Cry Baby

The people at Pixar really are emotionally manipulative bastards. That’s twice in a year they’ve made me blub like a baby. Not content with breaking my heart during THAT montage near the beginning of Up, the end of Toy Story 3 nearly destroyed me. I self-consciously had to hold in the sobs, for fear of extreme embarrassment.

So yes, it appears that I’m a cryer. From Return of the King to The Shawshank Redemption, films have emotionally affected me for a number of years now. When the storytelling’s good and I feel like I’m really with the characters on their journey, I’m ripe for exploitation by calculatingly devious filmmakers. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t even take that. I had a lump in my throat at the end of Titanic, after all.

However, I’m not as bad as some. I’ll mention no names, but I know people who cry at Holby City. And that was even before the showrunners brought in those melodramatic musical montages at the end of episodes, which act like a clunking fist screaming, “You WILL be sad when we say.”

As far as I’m concerned, being moved by films and television is a good thing. It means that I’m an emotional guy. I have a heart. I want to cheer when compelling characters triumph. I want to wail, “Whyyyyyyyyy?!” when they’re put through the ringer, lose their special someone, or die with just enough time to reveal their true feelings to the one they love. Rather that, than sat there with a heart of stone, bafflingly pleased at a complete inability to emote.

Still, when you’re over thirty and watching an animated film with kids behind and in front of you, sobbing so loudly that you can barely hear the dialogue anymore probably isn’t the image you want to put across.

Screw it. Do your worst, Pixar. I can take it. I’m a 2010 kinda guy.

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