View image Kari Sylwan plays the maid who cradles a dead woman (Harriet Andersson) in Bergman's "Cries and Whispers."
One of the most prolific and intelligent contributors to the comments section of the blog is Solomon Wakeling. I wrote in curiosity, asking to know more about him. He replied that he is a 24-year-old law student from Australia, and that one of his problems is, "I read too many books." There was one thing he said that I felt I needed to write about in the blog: "I find your work is filled with an essentially humanitarian philosophy, dealing with concepts like redemption."
The first half of his statement I hope is true. The second part is certainly true. Let us set aside all of the films that are essentially entertainments (although they have their uses and pleasures, too). I am thinking now about the remaining titles, which deal seriously with human lives. The ones that affect me most deeply are the ones in which characters overcome something within themselves or the world, and endure.
I'm often asked which movies made me cry. Without making a list (I hate lists of movies, which are so reductive), I'd have to reply that the deliberately sad films, the "weepies," rarely make me cry. What gets to me are the films about goodness--about people acting bravely or generously or in self-sacrifice. Consider a film like Spielberg's "Schindler's List." Its hero was not a great man in his own eyes, and his actions were at least partially self-serving. But with all of his imperfections and flaws, he set about to save a group of lives, and succeeded. That he succeeded is secondary to his effort, which was the main thing, although I confess that in the emotionally devastating final shot (showing those who would not be alive were it not for him), I cried. I was moved so deeply that they lived because of this one strange, eccentric, driven man.
Consider Eastwood's "Million Dollar Baby." Many were deeply offended by his action at the end. I myself disagreed with it on philosophical and personal grounds. I think he did the wrong thing. But he was certainly doing what the young woman desired, or thought that she desired, and I think he did it against his own wishes. He did not personally want her dead, or approve of euthanasia for that matter, but thought he was acting on her behalf. He was doing for her what she could not do for herself. What he did was consistent with the beliefs he had held up for her throughout the film. It was, for that man in that context at that moment, the right thing. So it's much more complicated, but, yes, I was moved. In all the frailty and fallibility of our poor human lives, he found the nerve to do what seemed to be merciful.
Or look at Kurosawa's "Ikiru," about an old bureaucrat who has spent his days in the meaningless shuffling of papers. Faced with a medical diagnosis meaning his own death, he tries at first to deny and escape. Finally, with the end approaching, he determines to achieve at least one good thing out of all the hopeful projects that found their ends by disappearing in his office. He wants to establish a little park for children. He succeeds, and at the end, in the falling snow, he is seen sitting on a swing in the park, dead. He has accomplished his good deed.
Consider, too, Bergman's "Cries and Whispers," the most emotionally devastating film I have ever seen. It was about a woman dying of cancer, and joined in her final days by her sisters, their husbands, and her maid. The sisters and the husbands were deeply disturbed, flawed, even evil. The maid, who had been patronized by them all through her life, felt pure love for the dying woman. There is an astonishing scene (only Bergman would have conceived it) where she bares her breasts and takes the dying woman to her heart, and comforts her with warmth and sympathy. It is the nudity that affected me most deeply: She was trying to remove all barriers of convention or modesty or shame, and to offer up her flesh itself to the dying woman, to say there was nothing she would not do for her. This gesture moves me even if I think back on it.
Having already included Bergman's "Winter Light" in the Great Movies collection, I have lately been revisiting the other titles in Bergman's trilogy about the silence of God: "Through a Glass Darkly" and "The Silence." Few other directors have been more drawn to the fundamental torments that we share (Dreyer, Ozu and Bresson are often mentioned along with him). These three films are notable because of their difficulty of redemption. Because of madness or obstinacy or obscure psychic wounds, their characters find it so difficult to achieve. Their are buried in their misery. But there is a force within them that keeps on trying, keeps on reaching out, and I think Bergman's subject is that desire we feel, that hope, that is perhaps contained within the concept of God.
At the end of the day, films like these are what persuade me to be a film critic. My job is to call attention to them. They need not be so deeply serious, but they need to have that human generosity and goodness. If I were to say that even "Juno" belonged on the list, would you understand?
...as far as films that made you cry, I'm surprised you didn't reference TESTAMENT. In your 1983 critique of it, the first thing you wrote was how it will make the viewer cry, because you did (twice, if I read it correctly)...
Help! I think this question tracks well with the post!
I will be teaching my first University course ever this Spring on Religion and Film. I have the following movies on the tentative syllabus: Ikiru, Bringing Out the Dead, A Trip to Bountiful, Being There, Cinema Paradisio, The Wind Will Carry Us, Babette's Feast, Fast Runner, The Last Temptation of Christ, St. Matthew's Passion, The Hawks and the Sparrows...
Does anyone have any suggestions or emendations?
I thank Soloman Wakeling for putting into words what has always brought me back to reading your film criticism! I appreciate your "humanitarian philosophy." And Roger, I agree that imperfect characters desiring, hoping, striving for something beyond themselves can make for some of the most meaningful and powerful films. I do understand why you would include Juno on your list.
Personally, I have had a hard time appreciating certain films because of my own philosophy. "Seven," for example. It is a slick movie, well made, disturbing, engrossing. The friends who saw it with me 13 years ago thought it was a great film. And I hated it. I was immensely disappointed with it. I felt the film didn't justify itself. The ending did not honor all the suffering the characters and audience endured.
I just went back and read your review of "Seven" from 1995, and the last few lines struck me:
"Good as it is, it misses greatness by not quite finding the right way to end. All of the pieces are in place, all of the characters are in position, and then - I think the way the story ends is too easy. Satisfying, perhaps. But not worthy of what has gone before."
A movie’s ending cannot only be unworthy of went before, but it can actually ruin the entire experience for me. What bothers me about "Seven" is that it fundamentally misunderstands the medieval concept of the "seven deadly sins." And I blame the screenwriter, Andrew Kevin Walker, for that.
When I saw the movie, I was studying "Canterbury Tales" in high school. The cops, particularly Morgan Freeman's character, delve into "Canterbury Tales" and other classics for clues into the killer's mind. The killer is supposedly reading these works for inspiration too. If only Andrew Kevin Walker had been in my English class!
My understanding of the seven deadly sins is that pride is the root, the greatest of them all. Pride comes from a desire to be God in some way, to know God's secrets (or "Goddes pryvetee" in Middle English). Therefore the killer's ultimate sin is pride, not envy, as he confesses at the end. His character is tragic because of this misunderstanding. But the audience doesn’t get to see that. He is simply a smart, sick monster.
Even if the killer is unaware of his own pride and mistakes the sin of pride for something more akin to vanity in his "pride killing," I hoped that the screenwriter would at least show some awareness of the medieval idea of pride. I believe he should if he’s going to bring "Canterbury Tales" into his script. Walker’s attempt to humanize the killer by making him guilty of envy is a nice try, but it misses the real tragedy of the killer and, truly, all murderers. They try to be God by taking someone else's life in their hands, and that is their downfall. It's pride.
On reflection, perhaps if "Seven" were not as graphic as it is I would have given it a pass. But as it is, it fails my high school English class.
Well, no film has actually made me cry but there's plenty that make me feel like I'm just seconds away from bursting into tears. There's...a couple of odd ones. Like The Wedding Singer. Yes, I said it. The bit where he sings the Grow Old With You song. Shameful.
Also:
Magnolia (the last frames when Claudia smiles - Aimee Mann's Save Me plays a big part in this.)
Field of Dreams ("Hey dad?")
Once (Pretty much the whole movie, though more specifically the music shop scene and the end.)
Dancer in the Dark (My friend and I refuse to discuss or rewatch the movie to this day because it upset us both so greatly. Bjork is just so extraordinary.)
And this isn't a movie, but...the last episode of the second season of the UK Office. ("She said no, by the way.")
Lastly, this is the first time I've commented here and I'd just like to give a big thanks to Roger for the blog and 40 years of superlative film critcism. It's beyond great to have you back.
All those films got to me too, and it's true that any genre of film can be moving if it's done well. I agree that goodness is generally more moving than just a horrible, bleak view where nobody wins. "Leaving Las Vegas" and "Sid and Nancy" are very good films, but they didn't really move me.
Another thing to address is that films have to earn their tears by not being too pushy or lacking in intelligence. I want a film to really engage my thinking and make me ask questions about life; I can't stand films that are too obvious. "The Shawshank Redemption" or "Dead Poets Society", to me, are not moving because they are trying so hard to move you. I feel the same way about "Forrest Gump" or "Braveheart." "The Passion of the Christ" was not moving to me because there was no intellectual property to the film- just horrific violence. To me that's depressing rather than moving.
Another thing to consider is that ridiculous films can be moving too. Space aliens may be ridiculous but look at "E.T.". It's moving because it reminds us of our childhood imaginative mind, of talking to stuffed animals or having GI joe battles in the backyard, how a child can just jump into this fantasy land so easily and how fun that was. But moreover, I find it moving because it is a testament to the power of the film medium to do this, to make us believe in the ridiculous and actually move us. Peter Jackson's "King Kong" had a similar affect on me. It's not as moving as 'E.T.' but it has that same 'wow' magic. "Wow, I can't believe I'm getting choked up over a CGI gorilla" in a huge multiplex with popcorn on my lap.
I love all kinds of movies, and of course I love Ozu and Bergman and Kurosawa as much as anyone, but it's amazing how occassionally a big-budget event movie can be so affecting. It's rare, very rare even, but when that happens it's great.
To comment on the moment in "Cries and Whispers", where the maid presses Agnes to her breast- that to me is a level of moving that is almost beyond tears. It's such a powerful image that we can't allow the tears to distort our view of it- it's too much. I agree completely that "Cries and Whispers" is, even among Bergman's films, completely overpowering in a way really no film is.
You know, when Robert Altman and Berman died, I was sad, but I didn't cry. I feel like they left this world having produced so much, having really lived up to their potential and having changed the medium. So I didn't cry, I celebrated them and toasted them and knew I had to watch "Nashville" or "Shame" again soon.
Thanks Ebert - you're the best, man.
Eric
I think too of Erick Zonca's _La Vie Rêvée des Anges_ / _The Dreamlife of Angels_.
The most tender scene is when Élodie Bouchez's character is at the hospital all night, standing watch over a comatose woman who's apartment she's renting, a woman she has never met, yet whose diary she has been reading. Exhausted, she falls asleep in the chapel. Woken, she is told that the comatose woman has not died after all. How fickle the spirit of life is, yet how enduring too.
Perhaps the most dazzling, liberating sequence is also the quietest, when she starts to write the woman's dairy for her, continuing that life. Last, I cannot help but well with tears at the closing shot where she goes to work in the electronics plant and the camera pans from her to another woman working, then another, and so on, set to a pop-song with what sounds like harpsichord. That will to live and that tragedy of what her life will be like at first are breathlessly sad and honest. Redemption yes, but far from grace.
The list of films in this post are amoung the most powerful that I have seen, adding The Shawshank Redemption and Saving Private Ryan.
As for films that would be good for a religion in film class, I would suggest One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. When I took a class in religion in film my professor showed Minority Report which I thought was a great film to grapple with Free Choice and Determinism.
Hi Roger and all,
I'm a first time poster on here, but Roger, I've felt like a friend of yours through your writing for years. Thanks so much, and it's great to have you back.
I haven't seen "Cries and Whispers"--yet. But the description of the scene you're talking about immediately made me think of the last image in The Grapes of Wrath **spoiler alert** when the sister, having just lost her baby, instead breastfeeds a dying man to try to revive him. It ends by saying she had a "mysterious smile" on her lips as she did it. I've often thought the mystery in that was the baffling human condition--how we can redeem ourselves through acts of incredible generosity, even as we're also the barbaric ones who have caused us to get into the straits in which we need those incredible acts.
I wanted to say that this thread has inspired me to seek out some more films like the ones Roger is talking about. I've become complacent recently. Having a stressful life, I've been avoiding films I think will be too 'heavy' lately and going for the entertaining ones. Not that that's an awful thing, but this thread has reminded me that I'm probably cheating myself out of some really cool movie experiences.
Yeah, I know what you mean. Today I watched Spielberg's E.T. for the first time in a few years and it moved me to tears just like when I was a little kid. It's not a perfect movie but it's perfect enough. As a Christian I find Bergman's honest approach to Man's search for an intangible God very powerful and comforting-how wonderful that his characters should find peace in their devotion to each other.
A movie that I found absolutely devastating, and one that I would recommend for any class on film and religion, is "Breaking The Waves," by Lars von Trier.
"...the deliberately sad films, the "weepies," rarely make me cry. What gets to me are the films about goodness--about people acting bravely or generously or in self-sacrifice."
Precisely how I feel as well, Roger. Thanks so much for this post. I confess I haven't seen most of the films you've mentioned (yet), but I hope to remedy that one day.
One film I have seen that brought me to tears was Grave of the Fireflies. You know the deaths are coming from the beginning of the film, but there is so much character and story about those two children told in the film that when the deaths come, you realize just how poignant they are. It is sad, yes, but also beautiful because of the sacrifices involved. It's possibly the most powerful animated film I've seen.
I love your inclusion of Ikiru, a film that really moved me as well. Another scene that always gets me is when he sings.
I recently watched Ulee's Gold, and your post immediately made me think of that. Almost every character in the movie goes through some sort of change through the course of the move. In particular I was so pleased by the way Peter Fonda's character, the stoic Ulee, goes through the process I am foreseeing my top three favorite movies (I don't really order movies, I just know I like them more than any others) becoming a top four.
My heart was pounding when I saw "Cries and Whispers" for the first time. The part that gets me is the ending frame. It was the most moving portrayal of hope that I've seen.
A few comments mentioned Ozu already, but I can't help but mention my favorite film "Late Spring." The father character and what he does for his daughter is something I will always remember.
I have to say it. I hated Cries and Whispers. Hated hated hated Cries and Whispers. I can enjoy a slow and placid film, but I was bored absolutely to death by Cries and Whispers. The deadeningly dull details of the characters' lives. The husband's unrealistic reaction when he discovered his wife had lacerated her vagina. The complete lack of real warmth and humanity. A tissue of lies? Nay, a tissue of boring.
While I cry for several reasons when watching films I find myself falling into categories you've described, Roger. To me one of the great tearjerker passages of any film in recent memory is the passage in "Antwone Fisher", when Antwone meets his mother. It's a journey to find himself, to forgive those who harmed him and to "forgive himself" (as Washington's character said to him) and that scene was the representation of that character's journey. Not to mention how beautiful the scene itself is. I couldn't stop crying for a good ten minutes after that scene, because from that scene we roll into the passages of true discovery and joy for the character. I started crying because I was moved by the character, and I continued to cry because I shared in his joy and happiness. I know it's a passage that struck you as well, Roger.
Recently the ending of "Once" left me in tears because of one character's selfless gesture of gratitude. I cried for the gesture and how moved the other is by it, and the movie only emphasizes the feelings of those two characters without making it into anything else. Movies that overreach don't move me. But movies about characters who reach out beyond themselves do.
I can hardly believe you addressed this subject today. "The Killing Fields" was on TCM last night. I was so deeply affected that I felt compelled to watch the end of the movie over and over on YouTube all day today. I can't remember the last time I saw something so beautiful. Combine that with Haing Ngor's life story, I was in tears all day.
I must disagree with Arran above who feels Braveheart is not moving. For me this is a very moving film. The violence in Braveheart is integral to the story..Wallace's wife is executed by the English commander and this is a turning point in his life, guiding him on his path as revolutionary and freedom fighter. To say there is no intellectual property makes me wonder if we saw the same movie..For me the speech made by Wallace to the assembled Scotsmen about Freedom is one of the most moving and rousing speeches I have ever heard on film. One of the reasons for this is that it is based on the Declaration of Arbroath(Or Scottish Declaration of Independence) which was submitted by Robert the Bruce to the Pope in 1320 a few years after Bannockburn. That declaration formed the basis for the American Declaration of Independence as it was a declaration for the common man and for freedom..I urge you to check the original declaration out and then with that background review the Wallace speech in Braveheart. I think that if you do that you will see Braveheart in a whole new light and see intellectual merit where you did not before..
One line that is particularly moving but somewhat unique is "Tell me, tell me that I've been a good man" from Saving Private Ryan. Although the scenes of the sacrifices of the main characters are moving, that one line, perhaps because we all feel guilt for the sacrifices others have made, I believe is particularly powerful.
Redemption:
The most excruciating movie I have ever seen is Fargo (and I mean ex-cruciating!.) I will never see it again. Here in one film: (1) banality of evil (2) seemingly radical evil and (3) banal goodness. How is it possible that the women cop redeems (while drinking coffee and donuts and making simple correct choices) that stark blood- against- snow evil? She is good in such simple things and yet so vivid. It reminded me of Augustine's point that evil is always privation, lack and it can never actually compare to the life, being and fullness of goodness.
Pan's Labyrinth:
Not to chose the lure of sacrifice or using another person as a means to another end even at the cost of losing eternity....
Endo's Silence:
I am eagerly awaiting that one!
Very interesting stuff here... a "humanitarian philosophy and dealing with concepts like redemption" animate Roger Ebert's work.
Ebert says,"What gets to me are the films about goodness--about people acting bravely or generously or in self-sacrifice."
I feel I understand that. Thinking back, at this moment I remember "The Elephant Man" made me cry. I do think it was the compassionate doctor (Anthony Hopkins) that got me. And the scene when Merrick was at a theater and he received applause. Merrick seemed such a gentle soul and the way he appreciated the small amount of kindness he recieved was moving to me after he suffered so much.
The other one that popped into my head was -I feel a little embarrassed to say it-- "Forrest Gump". It's a silly movie, but at the end when all of a sudden it is in real time after him going through his whole life story, which added so much weight to what then happens, it connected with me. Seeing the way Forrest reacts to discovering he's a father and the wedding when he and Jenny are on the lawn and Lt. Dan and his wife meet them. When Forrest tells Jenny that she was always with him wherever he was and their are those beautiful shots. And then after Jenny dies and Forrest is talking to her about their son. Well that got me. I admit it.
There are others that now come to mind, but those are a couple. Anyway.
Having been a fan of his reviews for some time I definitely believe that a humanitarian philosophy is present in Roger Ebert's work.
I would understand about Juno.
I'm extremely, embarrassingly, pathetically manipulable by even bad movies (not that Juno was one). I will always cry during scenes of parent-child reconciliation, for example, even as I smirk at the obviousness of the mechanisms by which my reaction was achieved. I really don't like the movie Titanic, but it's hard not to cry at the thought of babies drowning in freezing water. Or to take two movies already mentioned as examples, I'm as likely to cry during a movie like The Wedding Singer as during Magnolia. But this sensitivity, if I can call it that, means that the "good" movies (the artful movies, ones meant to illuminate some aspect of the way we live, etc.) really take residence in me, even wound me. This might be good and it might be bad, I'm not sure.
I'm taking a long break from Six Feet Under right now because of a particular scene in season 4 in which a character buries his wife with his bare hands and then, having finished, howls - a whooping, animal sound, over and over - at the sky as the camera zooms out and shows him smaller and smaller. It sounds over the top, and it is, but I was so invested in that character and his situation that the scene truly disturbed my sleep. After that, every time I looked at the Six Feet Under DVD case on my coffee table I had to look away.
The first movie that ever made me cry, like really break down, was a documentary called "The NBA at 50." Near the end of the film, they show some of the greats retiring, and the tears totally snuck up on me. But I think it's something that goes along with what you're saying, Roger. It was that they persevered as long as they could and were forced to face the reality that they simply couldn't play the game anymore. They had succeeded, but the dream was now over.
For me, I have always tended to choke up on films where there is some great human beauty for which the characters struggle against great odds. Brokeback Mountain will always get me. Running on Empty is another example. Ikiru would be in my list too, as would The Killing Fields. The last scene from Breaking the Waves as well.
But the one movie that gets me more than any other - I can't watch the preview without needing a pause - is Hoop Dreams. I'm losing it right now just thinking about it. Clearly, I'm a basketball fan, but it's the most real and remarkable story I've ever seen on film. I'm moved by its existence.
The film which immediately entered my mind while reading this post is "Five Easy Pieces;" the first time I saw it I remember being entirely drawn in, and always on the verge of emotion. It was not, however, until that very final shot that I felt all that feeling cave in around me and began to weep. There are many films which are obviously trying to elicit tears, some very good, but I think the most potently emotional experiences as the ones we can't see coming. Who didn't expect a heart-breaking end to "Brokeback Mountain" (don't get me wrong, a great, great film, but...) or wondrous redemption at the end of "Field of Dreams"? "Five Easy Pieces" hit me like a bolt from the blue, though, I think because I didn't realize how much I was connecting with Jack Nicholson (and Karen Black) until that final scene.
I would also like to add that Kieslowski's "The Double Life of Veronique," "Blue," and "Red" all move me remarkably deeply, not only for their tragic/redemptive qualities but also for the sheer beauty of the films. It is rare that beauty itself can lead me to tears, but Kieslowski could do it.
I completely agree, "Juno" certainly belongs on this list. One other film which deserves mention and for which I am eternally grateful for its inclusion in your Great Movies collection is "Grave of the Fireflies". This film has the ability to move me as no other film has before or since. I've recommended it to almost everyone I know. Some automatically reject it the minute they find out it's animated/anime. The ones who were willing to give it a chance usually end up loving it. It stays with them, it haunts them just as it has for me all these years.
A friend of mine taught "Grave of the Fireflies" in a class at university last year upon my recommendation and found his students emotionally devastated by it. Some found it unbearably depressing because it offers no redemption. I advised my friend to ask those students to watch the movie again and ask themselves what they get out of it. Do they feel a desire to bomb a nation, any nation? To view the "enemy" as evil, faceless monsters to be annihilated? If so, I've lost my argument. But if they are left pondering the lives of Setsuko and Seita, or they are left with that final image in the movie of the spirit of Seita staring directly at them, asking them to consider even for a moment (and I think the fact that they were so affected by the film and were able to discuss it so passionately does show this) then the movie is redemptive. Its redemption lies in the power of art to immortalise those two children and to make us experience and consider something which we are all too happy to overlook. Your inclusion, Mr. Ebert of this wonderful film in your Great Movies collection therefore adds to the film's redemptive powers and for that I am grateful.
I discovered Ikiru through your Great Movies section, which had only begun to be featured, at least online, for about a year at that time.
It was by far my favorite film, and still is. His stubbornness, his willingness to do something good in spite of everyone's apathy, felt so human at its core. It's difficult for me to even describe exactly what it is that makes it so special for me, but I'm glad you brought it to my attention. When I try to think of a film that depicts "goodness," though, no other film comes more readily to mind than this one.
Another film that affected me deeply was After Life (1998, a.k.a. Wandâfuru Raifu). What surprised me was it took one moment of sweetness toward the end, and I went from simply being moved to experiencing a rush of emotion.
And this may seem weird to some people, but one of the movies that makes me wistful just thinking about the sacrifice one of the main characters makes in the movie Wo Hu Tsang Long (2000). Knowing that the hero of the story had striven his whole life to achieve spiritual perfection, and then instead of using his last moments to secure his place in the afterlife, he expresses his unspoken love for his long time companion, sacrificing eternity to speak this truth that he had been holding in his heart for so long...
Pi doesn't make me cry necessarily, but it's about that struggle for understanding, for breaking through the barrier, that appeals to me so much (and Aronofsky's film seems so malleable that I can get different things out of the film every time I watch it...).
All of these films deal with mortality, and humanity's struggles to comprehend this world and do something bigger than ourselves for the sake of others in the limited time we have. To me there's nothing that says "humanity" more than that.
Despite it ranking on IMDB's #2 of all time, very few people in the world rank Shawshank Redemption their favorite movie of all time. To which after many years of not having a truly favoriite movie, I can answer, not only is it my favorite, but the final scene where Morgan Freeman (coincidence) finally making it to see his good friend, no matter what, I am always overcome with emotion, which can come in goosebumps, tears, and at times, even a good cry.
I love this discussion because as Roger has mentioned Soloman Wakeling in the entry and his spot on analysis of his reviews. I can't help think about why I come here week after week, and fish through the archives on a regular basis. Roger's reviews help me overcome much of the macro-negativity that the in-aggregate review sites like IMDB, and Rottentomatoes tend to offer. I don't want to waste my time with poor films, I don't think anyone does, but rarely have I been dissipointed when Roger gives a generally perceived nagative movie movie a 3* rating, and explains the humanitarian issues and character transformations.
I can go on and on, but to you Mr. Ebert I thank you for your love of humanity though your love of film.
many thanks both to you and to Mr Wakeling, who has hit it on the head - I always thought I preferred your commentary to others because of a general mid-western unpretentiousness - though intellectually the equal of the east and west coasters who wear their merit badges on their sleeves, yet not forgetting the whole point is to engage a story on its own grounds and then to step outside it and engage it on one's own grounds - and after it all, to enjoy - I guess that's all true enough but Wakeling has seen more deeply - perhaps it's because of your catholic upbringing (apparently less troubling to you than to others) which brought a sense of calm understanding to "Passion of the Christ" vs. the uncomprehending horror of most others? - I saw it also, to a degree, in your former colleague, Gene Siskel, so perhaps it comes from a sense of rootedness in an ancient tradition (whatever one's relation to it is at present) - it makes me want to read your autobiography and ask, "is there redemption in Darwin?" - again, thanks
Call me gauche, but I actally found the ending of The Last Samurai extremely moving. Of course on the macrocosmic level, the entire concept of the film is somewhat, I don't want to say offensive, but it's certainly something. But on the microcosmic level, on the level of the individual characters and the drama they play out and the arc that the protagonist goes through, I found it a very moving and satisfying experience, and I've been moved to tears at the end almost every time I've watched it.
Another movie that always breaks me down is Saving Private Ryan, a movie which is in some ways about the entire western civilization trying to find redemption.
And of course Schindler's List has to top my all time tears inducing list.
Mr. Ebert,
I completely understand your inclusion of JUNO... as I was reading the journal entry, in the back of my head, I was scouring through films and asked myself "Do any recent films qualify for me?". Instantly, I thought of JUNO and was very pleased to see it mentioned.
For me it was a combination (or culmination) of many different factors; the characters who I grew to love and admire, the song being played by Pauley Bleeker, the sentimentality of the moment (and still not overdone) as well as the style being exhibited by the director, Jason Reitman (the final shot has no cuts and runs for a good 3+ minutes). The tears that I shed were truly tears of joy!
Another fairly recent film that had a tear-inducing effect on me was the under-appreciated DONNIE DARKO. The choice of self-sacrifice that Donnie makes to save the pain, humiliation and death of people in his life, both those that he loves and those that he doesn't, couldn't be easy for anyone... yet Donnie sits in his bed and smiles, knowing what is to be his fate. Beautiful cinematic moment.
After just viewing Robert Altman's "A Prairie Home Companion" for the second time, I was moved by it all the more. It dealt with death in a very comforting and philosophical way. I'm not sure if Altman knew this would've been his last film but he couldn't have gone out with a more perfect message.
i have to comment on the above posters statements regarding Seven ; I don't disagree with the opinion of liking or not liking the film . However your reasons given do not seem to be fair or to understand the point of the movie .
I have always been of the opinion that you take movies for what they are . If you go see Zombie Holocaust , you don't compare it with The Seven Samurai , you compare it to all the other sleazefest exploitation movies you've ever seen. ( not that i am comparing Seven to sleaze ) .
Remember movies are made for the general public ( generally ) and therefor only ask that the audience have a perfunctory knowledge of the subject matter ( in this case the seven deadly sins )The fact that you were in the midst of studying said subject matter probably made you over analytical and less open to the theme of it .
If you are an astro physics major and watch Star Wars , if you find yourself sitting there chuckling under your breath at the stupidness of light sabres haven't you missed the point of the movie ? Seven was not about teaching us the nature of the seven deadly sins , but rather about the lengths that people will go to express their selfish will , that monsters in the dark are just ,at their root,people like you and me that have jobs . The sins are almost there as a comparison between the wrath of God and the Wrath of man . Man's wrath seems worse sometimes ...
Roger I totally agree with you. I rarely cry or am moved to cry by films that simply feature sadness. I am almost always more moved to cry by films that show people sacrificing themselves, facing insurmountable odds and fighting for good no matter the cost. Films like these make me cry.
The scene in "Spider-Man 2" when Spidey stops the train from going off the rails and is sapped of all his strength and is then lifted on the hands of the train passengers and protected by them almost always moves me to tears.
Also, some of the final scenes of M. Night Shyamalan's "Lady in the Water" in which ordinary people find greatness in themselves to protect Story move me to tears.
I definitely agree that simply showing something sad onscreen doesn't usually work as much as some of the things I have listed above.
King Daevid, for your Religion and Film class. I'd recommend Chasing Amy. His failure to forgive her for having a threesome with two guys leads to their breakup. a profoundly Christian concept.
But I have an odd situation. I cried at Schindler's list and think it's a good film. But I remember I also cried at Free Willy(I was 10 then). More. So are tears of childhood meaningless and superficial? Are my tears at 19 more meaningful than those at 10? Or is Free Willy a better film than Schindler's List? Half in jest but still...
When it comes down to movies in which people are in search of redemption, i always remember mystic river and the hours. i think these two movies could be in my "emotionally devastating film" list. to both of them, i could only think that, no metter what, those people could never find redemption. Actually, there's another movie, a brazilian movie, called "LavourArcaica". I think the english title would be "To The Left of The Father". It is the, for me, the best brazilian movie of all time. It is imperious, demanding of all our emotions when we watch it. Everyone should see this movie. Rober, have you seen it?
Your description of what it takes for a movie to make you emotional is spot-on to how I feel. This is exactly why I always enjoy reading your reviews - you can put into words what I (usually) feel, in a way I never could.
As for other movies that can evoke an emotional response, another that immediately jumps to mind is 'Pan's Labyrinth'... for the same reasons you mention in your essay. Those last few minutes get me every time... even hearing the music outside the movie still gets me choked up.
One movie with a similar theme that never fails to take my breath away is my favorite Martin Scorsese film, “The Age of Innocence”. The two lead characters, played by Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer, have the possibility of living in a relationship most of us would be lucky to ever experience, but they decide not to act on their emotions purely out of the kindness of their hearts. It’s true that a union between them would result in them being publically shamed and marginalized for the rest of their lives, but the real reason for their sacrifice is that they couldn’t bear to burden others with that shame. The last few minutes, where this becomes clear, and where an even deeper level is revealed by the story when we find out that “someone [knew of the sacrifice], and pitied”, are some of the most overwhelming scenes of any movie I’ve ever seen.
And I think I understand the “Juno” reference. It’s clear that the girl’s decision of what to do with the baby breaks her heart, but she makes it because she knows she will provide both the baby and someone else in the story with a lifetime of stability and deep emotional fulfilment by doing so.
Another suggestion for the Religion and Film class: "Sweetland," a tiny film about a small, rural religious community in the 1920's. A mail order bride arrives and is going to marry one of the farmers, but when they realize she is German rather than Norwegian, everything gets complicated, since Germans were known to be evil back then.
I don't see a review of it on Roger's website - it may have come out while he was in the hospital. Roger, if you read these comments, you should check it out. I thought of EbertFest when I saw it on DVD.
I would also include "Hoop Dreams" which was the first movie that made me cry in the theatre and the first movie that came to mind when I read the blog entry.
"It's a Wonderful Life" is not an original choice for this category but I like the forgiveness it has for many of its characters and the self-sacrifice that motivates so many of the actions in the movie.
I will also admit to having cried over reviews Ebert has written about movies I love such as his review of "Man in the Moon."
Gunter--Re 6 Feet Under, keep going. The serie's finale is one of the most reaffirming and joyous endings I've watched on TV.
I find I haven't seen many of these films posted about here. While I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that, I agree whole heartedly with the underlying principle.
I think I find that principle at work in more "intimate" films: "Liam", "Remains of the Day", "Lost in Translation", "Moonlight Mile", "The Trip to Bountiful", "13 Conversations About One Thing", "American Beauty".
I can watch movies for just entertainment (although I now pick and choose this very carefully; my time and attention are not to be squandered on dreck), but the ones that stay with me, that I think about later and often wonder about the future of the characters within them are the ones that contain some element of a working through to grace or redemption on the part of one of the characters.
I found this same principle working in my fiction choices. I need courage, fortitude and honesty on the pages: the characters must ring true, the events must cohere within the parameters of that world. I can find that integrity in a murder mystery--I am not necessarily talking about Literature. Given that, I am left with a question: if we consider fiction and film to be art, are they more closely related in a substructure or mythical way than perhaps we are usually aware of? Is it enough to say that I like that film or this novel because of the humanitarian generosity contained within it or do these forms of entertainment appeal to us because of deeper factors? I'm familiar with Jung's collective unconscious--is that what's at work here?
I hope that was clear. I didn't mean to change the focus from films. I just noticed the similarity of my choices in film and books and wondered if others here had as well. And could this nature of things translate into art, dance, music? Just a few thoughts...
I don't even care that this'll sound corny, but Spock's death scene from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan and Kirk's eulogy still kill me. I felt ripped off when the next movie totally nullified the whole thing, but at the moment Spock's sacrifice was noble and real.
How could it not be understandable that "Juno" also belongs to such a list? But it should be said it may be to each one a very different thing exactly what makes it understandable. I have my very own memories of which movies brought me to tears, and it surprises me that the first ones I thought of were not the truly, overtly dramatic pictures, if one can say such a thing, but the ones so innocent in their own making, sometimes I suspect not even the writers and directors are aware of how much they´ve have said. Nor could or should they - understanding is not the same as knowing, taking control of something, but, I suspect, is responding to what is seen in the manner in wich it asks us, demands us to respond. I cried at the very end of Jean Pierre Jeunet´s "A very long Engagement" as if I were myself in love; Takashi Koizumi´s "After the Rain", written by Kurosawa, is so unconditional simple and straightforward it´s overwhelming; Marc Foster´s "Stranger than Fiction" belongs to the gallery of exact, perfect movies side-by-side with "Groundhog Day"; Yasujiro Ozu´s "Grave of the Fireflies" is nothing short of unbearable. That, or I´m corny and sentimental by nature.
This was NOT Jodie Boyer's comment. It was Jason's comment:
"Very interesting stuff here... a "humanitarian philosophy and dealing with concepts like redemption" animate Roger Ebert's work.
Ebert says,"What gets to me are the films about goodness--about people acting bravely or generously or in self-sacrifice."
I feel I understand that. Thinking back, at this moment I remember "The Elephant Man" made me cry. I do think it was the compassionate doctor (Anthony Hopkins) that got me. And the scene when Merrick was at a theater and he received applause. Merrick seemed such a gentle soul and the way he appreciated the small amount of kindness he recieved was moving to me after he suffered so much.
The other one that popped into my head was -I feel a little embarrassed to say it-- "Forrest Gump". It's a silly movie, but at the end when all of a sudden it is in real time after him going through his whole life story, which added so much weight to what then happens, it connected with me. Seeing the way Forrest reacts to discovering he's a father and the wedding when he and Jenny are on the lawn and Lt. Dan and his wife meet them. When Forrest tells Jenny that she was always with him wherever he was and their are those beautiful shots. And then after Jenny dies and Forrest is talking to her about their son. Well that got me. I admit it.
There are others that now come to mind, but those are a couple. Anyway.
Having been a fan of his reviews for some time I definitely believe that a humanitarian philosophy is present in Roger Ebert's work."
John's comment about "scenes of parent-child reconciliation" brings to mind Robert Redford's seemingly forgotten (despite a Best Picture win) "Ordinary People." I think that film speaks straight to the heart of anyone who has grown up in a middle or upper class American family. True, there are some weak moments, mostly in the very Hollywood pcychotherapy scenes (despite Judd Hirsch's fine acting), which resort to the "big moment of revelation" device and other clichés. Nevertheless, the film is one of my favorites. The sibling rivalry, the superficiality of most of the social interactions, the main character's feeling of being at odds with his suburban world: all these elements are perfectly combined and portrayed, leading up to one of my favorite endings in any movie. Those final few shots in which Conrad (Timothy Hutton) says, "I love you, Dad," and his father (Donald Sutherland, in one of his finest, warmest performances) replies, "I love you, too," are totally devastating, to use Mr. Ebert's word. It is not terribly clever dialogue, to say the least, but to hear such simple, direct, heartfelt words spoken between these characters releases most, if not all, of the tension of what has gone before. Then they embrace each other, the camera pans out, and Pachelbel's Canon swells on the soundtrack. What a perfect moment.
I saw someone early on mention "Six Feet Under" as something that devestated them. I agree 100 percent. The final episode drained me in the same way the death of a family member has. As a matter of fact, I would very much love to know Mr. Ebert's opinion of the show as a whole. I think he would have some illuminating commentary.
Come to think of it, there are a lot of quality television shows that I would like to know Mr. Ebert's opinion on. Perhaps someday, he might share with us his opinions on "Six Feet Under", "Sopranos", "Lost", etc.
It might make a very neat addition to his already excellent website! ;-)
I believe that Atom Egoyan's magnificent "Exotica" (and "Sweet Hereafter too) need to be mentioned.
What I like about your style, in reviewing movies is an attention to the art of great film-making, which is truly great storytelling, just as is great literature, theatre, or art of any kind. I see that Roeper wants to go to this format of "see it" or "don't see it", and to me a film is more than that. I think you could say a movie is bad, but still lightly recommend seeing it. The true purpose of a great review is to critique a film's artistic merit. There are movies I watch that I would say are forgettable, but enjoyable, and then there are films that are truly masterpieces worth seeing. Some films you don't even particularly enjoy seeing, but they are such greats work of art that one's life gains new insights through having seen it. That's what great movies are. They're not just pointless, mindless entertainment, but great storytelling that leaves us with richer lives, and a better understanding of the world around us - or at the very least a better understanding of just how little we really know.
I find it very appropriate that this was the first thing I read after watching "Lars and the Real Girl" a movie that perfectly exemplifies what you're talking about. I've been an avid reader of your reviews since recieving your first volume of "Great Film" essays as a gift and have found that each one of the films analyzed in the book tends to deal with grace recieved or grace averted, but always the search for grace in spite of our imperfections and foibles. "Ikiru", "McCabe and Mrs. Miller", and "Floating Weeds" are just three of the films that embrace these ideals. I owe the discovery of these films to your "Great Film" essays. They continue to be an aid in creating small scale film school and humanities class with my friends and family. Thanks so much for those essays as well as sharing your film credo with us.
"Come to think of it, there are a lot of quality television shows that I would like to know Mr. Ebert's opinion on."
Mr. Ebert has stated on several occasions that he hardly ever watches TV. I wish he did. Then again, I would also love to read his opinions and analysis of politics, religion, or the relative benefits of a carbon tax vs. the cap-and-trade system.
I suppose there is only so much we can ask of him.
(BTW, Roger - barring another debilitating accident, are we going to see you in Toronto this fall? Pleeeese?)
Remembering the tears at the end of Schindler's List brings to mind the powerful ending of Lee's Malcolm X, and how I cried and nearly stood in the theater to declare in aspiration that "I am Malcolm X".
I'm curious about that too, Jeremy. Has Roger seen the Wire? What shows does he like?
The end of "Six Feet Under" is amazing. I too would love to hear Roger's opinion on some of the amazing T.V shows of late. I think a few televised programs have begun matching great films in quality and depth.
A movie that moves me to tears just thinking about it is "In America." The last scene absolutely kills me. "Say goodbye to Frankie, Dad." Ohhhh man. The man is finally letting go of his son's death. He's crying for the first time in at least a year, and I'm crying right along with him. Movies like "Schindler's List" or "Braveheart" or even "Ikiru" have definitely made me cry, but for some reason "In America" is the big one for me.
Mike S:
That movie exists on its own for me. Spock's sacrifice really got to me when I first saw the film, and it still does. Good call, not embarrassing at all!
Some have called The Elephant Man manipulative or inaccurate, but I don't think an accurate portrayal of his life is necessarily the point. I think if you look at him as a victim of a specific disease then it becomes difficult to defend the movie's decisions, but if the audience identifies with him and his isolation in some way, like I feel I did, then it becomes greater than its surface. That's a deeply affecting movie, I agree.
I have to mention the lost and overlooked "Ladybird, Ladybird", from Ken Loach. Like most of his films from before 8 or 10 years ago they're all sort of lost on VHS. I found it and it's haunted me ever since. It's basically about a woman who is her own worst enemy. She's got 4 kids by apparently 4 different guys. It's fascinating to watch her struggle and never quite get things together. I just lost it the first time I saw it, and it had everything to do at the time with the fact that I'd recognized people like her out of the hard lives that I came from, but that I was fortunate enough to have gotten out. Movies about hard lives, the working class, and day-to-day endurance fascinate me to no ends.
Then I discovered Mike Leigh and it was the same feeling. "All or Nothing" is very special. Timothy Spahl as the father in that is spectacular. I discovered those films from watching "Siskel & Ebert". It's funny, but it was at about that point that I realized that other countries could tell working class stories better than us a good deal of the time. Something about being able to evoke "the struggle" in a very pure way and without comment.
And I have to mention also, "Half Moon", by the director who made "Turtles Can Fly" and "A Time For Drunken Horses". I thought "Half Moon" was going to make it over here like the previous two, but it just fell off the radar. It's about an old Kurdish musician on his way to play one last concert in Iraq, if he can make it there. It's essentially a road movie, and it could almost play on a double-bill with "the Band's Visit". There's a bus, a band, checkpoints, detours, a looming war from the west, and one of the most haunting scenes I can remember from the last few years about a "village of 10,000 lost voices".
Yup, there's nothing like a movie "that's really about something" as either Siskel or Ebert would say about once every couple weeks or so.
interesting stuff, i too find that "weepies" leave me very cold and feeling slightly manipulated...i often have the experience of watching a "sad" film and finding myself surrounded by sniffling people at the end, while i am still dry eyed. happened with "la huitieme jour", "forrest gump" and, despite what a lot of people above say, "shawshank".
the climactic scenes of "paris, texas" and "the deer hunter" usually bring me very near to tears...i thinkk these films, and others that have the same effect, do so by creating a crescendo of intense "emotionalness" without actually telling you that you should be crying, like more manipulative films do.
as for religious films, i would say that "the seventh seal" is probably the best film that deals explicitly with all the big religious issues...but more recently, i thought the religious ideas knocking around "there will be blood" were also interesting in the light of the materialism/spiritualism debate. let us know what you do pick in the end.
The first movie I cried at was "Robin and Marian". None of the thousands of films I had seen previous to that made me cry, but when Sean Connery shot the arrow out the window of the tower and said, "Where this arrow falls, plant us there and leave us be," I just lost it.
The most crying I have done at a movie was when I finally saw "West Side Story" last year. I was bawling like a little girl! I'll never watch it again!
-Ralphie
Looking at the screen shot you've chosen for this blog, I can't help but be reminded of Michelangelo's Pieta. The poses are parallel, the camera lingers on this, and I can't believe I haven't noticed this before. I can't say whether or not this was intentional on Bergman's part, but I think now - maybe it was. At any rate, the emotional resonance of the sculpture endows the act with a larger gravity. Just a thought.
I'm always surprised by the films that bring me to tears. Or maybe it's more fair to say I remember and love best the movies that surprised me in the way they brought to tears. I expected to cry at "Schindler's List" (which I don't mean as a knock on that film--but I'd have been disappointed if I didn't weep at a three-hour epic about the Holocaust). Instead I'm thinking of movies like "You Can Count on Me," which made me cry at the end only because I'd gotten to know and love its characters so well--because each of them was crying for different reasons, and I cried with each of them for the same reasons. And then there's my favorite film of all time--Atom Egoyan's "The Sweet Hereafter." I cried twice during that movie--once during the school bus crash (when I was supposed to) and again at its extraordinary ending, which manages to find an incredibly complex vision of redemption amidst the wreckage of the town's memory.
I'll also never forget the first time I cried at the movies--at the end of "Broadcast News." I was a teenager, and identified pretty strongly with Albert Brooks' character. That he didn't end up with Holly Hunter's Jane was devastating to me--but not as devastating as understanding why. That was the first time I really saw how beautiful it is that a smart movie, about "real" characyers, can defy convention. And it hurt like hell.
Let me add to the chorus: I wouldn't have gone to see "Broadcast News" if Roger Ebert hadn't urged me to. Ditto "Sweet Hereafter" and "You Can Count on Me." Thanks, Roger, for these and a hundred more--
Dear Mr. Ebert, thank you for this wonderful blog. I tend to be an Ebert loyalist because you write better than any other reviewer out there. I'm ashamed to admit that last year I wrote the Answer Man asking if you ever cried at movies and if you thought emotions hindered your objectivity. Of course, you didn't respond because those may be the most stupid, moronic questions that column has ever received! Of course, you are moved by films; you are not a movie-reviewin' robot. You're a fragile human being with a gift for opening up the beauty of films for the rest of us. When it comes to criticism, I suppose the bigger question should be is it possible ever to look at art objectively? And wouldn't there be something flawed in a person who claimed that he or she could?
The scene in "Cries and Whispers" that made me cry was the last one, with its sudden articulation and vision of a brief and fleeting moment of peace and happiness. And gratitude. You're shown a blissful moment of transcendence, and as a viewer you get to feel it, too. In a movie of devastating pain and loneliness, an ending scene that recalls a past moment of beauty and unity -- between the sisters, between Agnes and nature, Agnes and God (or the concept of God). That scene wrecked me. I've never been so surprised by a scene in any movie. "I feel profoundly grateful to my life, which gives me so much."
And I see how "Juno" would fit on the "list". Its ending, too, is one of transcendence, in which irony is dropped for sincerity.
The very last scene of About Schmidt, when Jack picks up the drawing by the little boy, always manages to find a tear in my eye. It's such a small token of appreciation from the child, but this moment fills my heart with overwhelming joy every time I see it. I think the build-up to the revelation of the drawing, in the context of the scene and the movie as a whole, is so perfect that we as an audience are crying even before we see Jack's reaction shot. (On another topic, a friend of mine who didn't like the film complained that the inclusion of the real life sponsor-a-child hotline before the end credits was cloyingly insincere, but I thought the film would have been faulted to not include it!)
Also, Cool Hand Luke, when Paul Newman starts to play guitar, gets me choked up every time.
And cheers to the member who mentioned that final scene from Ordinary People!
Like you and others here, I tend not to get emotional when the movie is blatantly "set up" to trigger that emotion. That said, Steven Spielberg has made me weep more than any other director (perhaps no more so than at the end of "Saving Private Ryan," when Ryan asks his wife if he has led a good life). I'm amazed that no one has mentioned Scout's recognition of Robert Duvall in "To Kill A Mockingbird" with the line "Hey, Boo," which makes my eyes water every time I think about it. Finally, the end of "Brief Encounter," when Celia Johnson's husband tells her that, whereever her sadness has taken her, he is glad that she has returned to him, is one of the bravest and most touching lines of dialogue I have heard in the movies, and it gets to me every time.
And thank you, Roger, for continuing to expand the scope of cinema for me and countless others.
I would like to thank you for introducing "Ikiru" into my life through your Great Movies series. When I finished the movie I wanted to be a better person, and set about doing it. I may not be 100% successful, I am still too lazy sometimes, but I'm working on it. The image of Kanji on the swing and the women who show up to pay tribute to him are forever etched in my mind.
Jason:
I agree with you re "Ordinary People", another picture tailored to a smaller scale. "The Accidental Tourist" is in that same vein, IMO.
What kind of pictures are these called? More intimate, smaller? I don't know the terminology, but those are the ones I appreciate most. I don't need or want grand spectacle--Ben Hur or massive CGI stuff leaves me cold.
I am so easily caught by movies--I cry at any tearjerky scene, even when I know (and resent) that I'm being manipulated. I cannot watch horror of any type due to the fear I feel (I am not entertained by fear). Oddly enough, I do not laugh easily at comedies and get irked by poor timing or false premises in comedic films. But to see a film such as "Little Miss Sunshine" that show whole, flawed characters coming into themselves and celebrating that--that's both funny, poignant and redeeming (and one of my favorite films) and I can laugh freely--or perhaps it is more accurate to say that the film has earned my laughter.
"Working Girl" is another one. "Age of Innocence" is slightly grander, but that movie stunned me--the tension fraught in each scene with Leland(?) and the Countess... and then the devastating ending. Juno fits right into this type of film for me. Her disillusionment regarding the "dad" to be and her subsequent solidarity with the "expectant" mom were quite moving. Luckily for me, there are lots of these films (but not as many as I'd like!)
Lloyd Miller: was your rxn to the finale of 6 Feet Under due to the series ending or the events of the finale? Most people I've discussed it with are filled with hope and loss--a bittersweet mix, but with hope primary. That was not your rxn? I'm curious as to why, but reluctant to post spoilers here.
Before I have a Lindsay Lohan celebrity meltdown, can I correct a minor error. My name is spelt with three o's. Though not even remotely Jewish I have a lovely Jewish name, chosen by my Father because of its three syllables which he thought musical, and by my Mother because it means "peace". We all bear the burden of our family history: this is mine.
I think a blog takes a while to develop, but in your case you already have a built in audience. The dynamics of the medium are different from traditional publishing, more immediate, more chaotic. I will watch with interest how it develops. I was a little surprised to think I might have done anything of note, but there we are. I hope and expect soon enough I will become inconspicuous again amongst a deluge of thoughtful contributors.
I loved Juno. I went to see it with a friend of mine who is very anti-abortion and a friend of hers. After reading your review I thought she might be interested because you wrote that Juno decides to keep the baby. Whilst they seemed to disapprove of much that was in the film, being committed Christians, they saw that it was sweet "in the end" and I feel like I did a good deed. They laughed, too, and you can't hide that.
I spoke to a friend of mine who is about Juno's age to see what she thought and she said she liked it but thought that Mark was going to hit on Juno, and instead after that point he just disappears from the story. This didn't bother me as I tended to fill in the blanks myself, but I think it's a valid observation. The movie peers over the abyss, steps back, then goes in another direction.
Chan Marshall's version of "Sea of love", coming at the close of the film, is a song I am familiar with and associate with the past. I'm not safe anywhere. I don't know if I cried but I was certainly moved, and more than that, won over.
I was also moved listening to Courtney Love's commentary on "The People vs Larry Flynt". That might sound like an odd place to look but in terms of redemption, or at least, building a new life, it showed me a little of how this strong and intelligent woman has survived. She said: I don't want to be that person anymore. I know what that is like. Then listening to the "About a son" documentary there is a single moment when you hear her interrupt Kurt, asking him to make a bottle for their daughter or some kind of domestic thing like that, and it was deeply sad, knowing what was to come.
Ebert: So sorry!
Enduring and redemption don't affect me in the same way. I consider them happy endings (among the few truly happy endings) and though I am often uplifted perhaps even inspired by them, I rarely am moved to tears. What moves me to tears is the particularly poignant moments of recognition--especially tragic recognition. The first one that comes to mind is Cameron Crowe's Vanilla Sky (and Abre Los Ojos, of course, but Crowe's version hits me harder). At the end David Aames meets his customer service representative and his nightmare is explained to him. There is a moment at which he realizes that the life he wanted with Sofia never actually happened, that he is still grossly disfigured, that he committed suicide and is currently frozen and experiencing a virtual reality, and that hundreds of years have passed and his best friend and true love are long dead. It all comes to him and the audience at once and it is all almost too much to handle. I think I actually start to tear up when a second minor moment of recognition occurs. His psychiatrist (the performance of a lifetime by Kurt Russell) is still fighting, trying to believe or assert his own existence. But he is an figment of David's imagination and eventually succumbs to this. He's imaginary even within the imaginary construct of the movie itself but his becoming conscious of this fact is as real a moment a