I don’t cry. I am not a crying person. I say that not as some testimony to how tough or butch I am (there’s an amusing idea,) it’s just not how I react. When R Man sickened and died, I made it through those very dark days without a tear, and not because I restrained myself; I just don’t cry.
Imagine my surprise tonight, then, as I watched the movie 50/50 and burst into huge weeping sobs. Wracking, wailing, misery pouring from several orifices. I had to pause the movie. I scared Saki. I sort of scared myself, a rational part of me watching horrified demanding to know what the fuck was going on. Could it be more than just reacting to cinematic mastery? Mmmmmmmaybe.
When the movie first came out and got such good reviews, I considered going to watch it, even though a film about dealing with cancer sounded like trouble after the last couple of years. Thank god I skipped it; I have a vivid mental image of myself huddled in tears in the men’s room of the Lowe’s metroplex. Yuck.
Maybe it was just a perfect emotional storm. I’m still sick; R Man’s death is (obviously, understandably) a sensitive part of my life; and Joseph Gordon-Levitt is both cute and effective in the role. Still, I just wasn’t prepared for this. I have so little experience with the phenomenon, I didn’t even know crying makes your face hurt. Does that seem fair? First you feel bad and then you feel bad?
Crying. What a stupid idea.