With Jennifer out of town until Saturday, the girls and I watched “Despicable Me” Tuesday night and “Ramona and Beezus” last night. We’ll probably go see “Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore” late this afternoon.
My goal today, after failing two times this week, is to NOT cry like a wee-wussy-man in front of a bunch of kids. Yes, I cried during “Despicable Me” and I cried more than once watching “Ramona and Beezus,” a movie I was dreading and had no hope for going in.
In Ramona, when she has ran away from home and in her suitcase she finds the book that her artistically-inclined father has been doodling in, she realizes how much she is loved, then her family pulls up to the bus stop…it was all so predictable…so why did it get to me? A young girl behind us was sobbing loudly during this part. I wanted to turn around and look but I didn’t want her mother to see my tear-streaked face.
I spend half the movie gazing at my daughters, watching their expressions, and displaying to them (they look at me far less, believe me) mock expressions of shock, anger, or sadness at what’s happening on the screen. The key to my sensitivity is obvious–my strings are easily pulled. In both movies, a central theme was the love between a father and his daughters. Even in a mediocre movie, that stuff kills me.