Tearjerkers

Who's five feet tall and watched a horribly sad movie Thursday night, JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT?

This girl!

The film? A Walk to Remember.

Yes, I know.

Not only was it horribly sad, it was horribly wholesome (read: boring). To top it all off, I knew how it ended. I knew that I would be bawling like an idiot, and yet I still watched it.

I watched it through the horrifically long commercial breaks on TBS because it was part of their "Movie Extra" bullshit. Seriously, the commercial breaks were like, ten minutes long, and they seemed to get longer and more frequent as the conclusion neared.

To be painfully honest, A Walk to Remember was actually pretty good. The viewer truly believes that two young people actually fall in love. And to make things more interesting, the viewer truly believes that they each know and understand what love really means. And since for some teenagers, love seems to be more of a term thrown around carelessly in order to get to third base, this is pretty impressive.

I don't know what it is about my brain that wills me to do things like this, but I can remember many, many occasions in which I watched disgustingly devastating movies ON PURPOSE.

First ridiculous memory: Romeo and Juliet. Not in the ninth grade, when we were forced to watch it in our Literature class and where an exhibit of emotion would have been mocked mercilessly, but shortly after. I watched it with my dad. We were both standing in front of the television, as if our body language was saying, "We could leave at any moment. We don't need to be watching this emotional powerhouse of a film. We could be outside with the three-dimensional people!"

Anyway, I was itching to get away, but I couldn't stop watching. I was well-aware of what was to come, and yet, I remained, and I was fine. What I didn't bargain for was my dad. During the pivotal death scene, he started crying. My dad. I had never seen him cry before, and while it surprised me, it made me see him in a new light. My dad was (and still is) a hopeless romantic, and his daughter has merely followed in his footsteps.

Then again, just try watching Zeffirelli's version once again. Away from the prying eyes of your ninth grade classmates, let yourself be carried away by the acting talents of this extremely young cast. Just try to ignore the hauntingly beautiful score. TRY.

Second: Love Story. I had just graduated from college and was spending my summer in Ann Arbor, working as a camp counselor and just enjoying my summer of freedom. I started watching Love Story for no good reason. I especially enjoy the fact that I had read the book and therefore was completely aware of the storyline.

Again, the MUSIC absolutely KILLED me. And the ending... in between my hyperventilating sobs, my mom called. Once she got me to calm down and could finally understand what I was saying, she asked why I didn't just watch some Friends episodes. I don't KNOW.

Third: Wuthering Heights. Lord above, this movie is so devastatingly sad! I adore the book, but the film (Olivier! Oberon! Niven!) elevates it to a whole new level. I know that many purists abhor the 1939 film version because it covers only the first half of the book, but the performances alone are so beautiful, so gritty, so... sad, that you don't miss the second half. And I have to admit that this is the only version I have seen.

Well, that's a little glimpse into my insanity. I watch movies about doomed romances so that I can cry about them.

I think that there's something wrong with me.

Note: I forgot one. Dr. Zhivago gets me every time as well. "Ah... then it's a gift." BAWLING.