Do movies ever make you cry? I have to admit that some have that effect on me, though at least nowadays, I'm generally at home on my sofa with no one but my cat to witness it. I can't remember the last time I was in a movie theater, so this display of emotion usually takes place in private.
I recently happened upon Cast Away, the 2000 film starring Tom Hanks, as I was flipping through the channels. I probably hadn't seen it in over 20 years so I decided to watch. I was in the midst of working on holiday cards, to be signed and addressed by hand. I don't use printed labels, nor do I send them en masse as e-cards. I was looking for something to watch that didn't require my full concentration, but was more like background music while I tried to complete the tedious task. Usually, when I want to watch a movie, I go to a streaming platform because I hate commercial interruptions. But since I had seen this film before, and it was really only on as background noise, I started to watch. I had liked it very much when I first saw it over 20 years ago, so I could sort of pay attention to it and get the cards done at the same time. If I missed a little of the action, at least I already knew the gist of the plot.
As it turned out, I became totally engrossed in the film, and the commercial interruptions were actually useful, both as breaks during which to address a couple of cards, and as emotional speed bumps as well. Why the need for emotional speeds bumps? Because the film was so much more riveting, thought-provoking and poignant than I had remembered, and the commercial breaks gave me a chance to recover between scenes.
Tom Hanks is amazing, and if you've never seen this movie (or haven't seen it in 20 years) I strongly recommend it. But aside from the compelling plot and extraordinary special effects, the film tugged at my heart, and ultimately, real tears began to flow. During those commercial respites, I also had the chance to reflect on some of the underlining themes and deeper messages, and even began to compose this blogpost in my head. I didn't get up from the sofa to type or take any notes. My blogposts are usually not written in one sitting; they require a lot of mulling, musing and amending over several days.
For me, the emotional impact of the film was at least as important as the thrilling plot. Hank's character has to learn how to make fire, hunt and somehow survive for four years on a desolate island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But even more meaningful to me were his struggles with the crushing loneliness and isolation. Ultimately, he finds a friend in an anthropomorphized object, which serves as his close companion and confidant until he is finally rescued and returns to civilization.
I became choked up during the scene when Tom is drifting on his raft, desperately crying, "Wilson, Wilson!" (If you've seen the movie you'll likely remember this.) But my tears began to flow in earnest later on, when Tom is reunited with his girlfriend, who had presumed him dead for the past four years and gotten on with her life.
Tom's relationship with Wilson the volleyball is deeply moving, and as a lover of anthropomorphized objects myself -- my collection of stuffed animals to be precise -- I could definitely relate. Wilson becomes a character in his own right and it is clear that if not for the companionship of the volleyball, Tom would likely not have been able to survive.
As I watched the film, my cat Dexter was curled up on a chair nearby. Dexter is much more than a Wilson to me, since he's a sentient creature, which (unlike a volleyball) lives, breathes, purrs and displays real affection. I believe pets are capable of love, even if they don't possess the vocabulary to understand it the way humans do.
Which brings me to another tear-jerker movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, with Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, one of my all-time favorites. The final scene in which Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, desperately cries, "Cat, Cat!" (much like Tom Hanks's "Wilson, Wilson!") always brings me to tears, no matter how many times I've watched this movie. The protagonists of both Cast Away and Breakfast at Tiffany's evince that humans crave connections with other humans. Lacking that, they develop loving relationships with pets -- or even volleyballs -- if that's all they have available to them.
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