I guess I was around 15 when I went to the theater with my brother Chris and our friends Frank and Steven—also brothers—to see a little Spielberg creation called E.T. What started out as a cool flick about a squat alien getting stranded on Earth and becoming pals with little Eliot and his siblings became a torturous movie-going experience.
First, E.T. disappears. Lump in the throat. Then they find him, sick and alone. Lump grows. Then, E.T. pays the ultimate price, and his heart light fades like a second-rate flashlight. Getting tougher to breathe. E.T. wakes up! Happy lump! And then the coup de grâce arrives, courtesy of emotional executioner Spielberg. The old finger tip to finger tip E.T. salute, a promise to remain close to Eliot’s heart, and then a spaceship zooming back home.
We were four boys, two in their teens and two on the cusp. We were trying to be tough. But the looks on our faces were of agony, pure and simple. I mean, I didn’t want to get busted crying over some stupid fake alien. Nobody did. When the credits rolled and the throat lump receded enough to take a real gulp of oxygen, someone probably cracked a joke.
I doubt anyone laughed.
The thing is, I know I am not the only dude who has fought that lump back. Over the years, there have been other films that got to me. There are others I won’t go near, because I know what’s going to happen. Here’s a rundown of Dry Martino’s kryptonite movies. Please don’t judge me.
Brian’s Song: It looks so old now, but the James Caan/Billy Dee Williams tandem is too much in this real story about NFL great Gale Sayers (Williams) and his unlikely best pal on the Chicago Bears, Brian Picolo (Caan). One of them battles cancer. You will battle the dude next to you for the bathroom so you can cry openly, without fear of reprisal.
Apollo 13: I can’t help it. Whenever Apollo 13 comes back into view on Mission Control’s video monitors and Tom Hanks, playing former astronaut Jim Lovell, says “It’s good to see you again,” I get choked up and chills run up my questionable spine. It’s happening right now. Ed Harris, as the top dog in Mission Control, sits down and wipes tears from his eyes after Lovell greets Earth after Apollo 13’s harrowing tale of survival after an explosion crippled their spacecraft. Gets me every single time.
Saving Private Ryan: The old guy falls to his knees in a cemetery near the beaches that were the landing zones for D-Day and asks “Am I a good man?” Yes sir, you are. And I need a hug.
Vegas Vacation: Heartbreaking for any Chevy Chase fan. Epic failure. The hideousness of the movie makes it sadder than the funeral in Steel Magnolias.
Steel Magnolias: Did I say Steel Magnolias? I meant Field of Dreams.
A Christmas Story: The dad’s face when Ralphie starts to open the last present on Christmas morning is why anyone should be a parent. Knowing your kid is happy is the greatest gift. I get to cry about 12 times every year, since TBS runs it for 24 hours straight.
The Champ: As delivered by Ricky Schroeder—“Mike, wake up, it’s just a movie. Wake up. Please, Mike, wake up.”
Movies I cannot/will not watch:
Marley & Me: Like I need you to tell me what will happen at the end? No thanks. I prefer to think Marley runs away and joins the puppy circus, where he juggles Milk Bones and feasts on bacon every day. I’d watch that film.
All Dogs Go To Heaven: The title says it all when it comes to this heart-wrenching animated ’80s classic that I have never watched. I know all dogs go to heaven. Don’t need a stupid cartoon to verify this piece of news.
Godfather III: Really, Francis? You absolutely had to make this movie?
Save for some cool indie flicks, I keep my movie watching in the comedic zone, often straying into real-life docudrama sort of flicks. It’s hard enough these days avoiding real-life sadness. Popping a DVD in to cry just seems, well, sad to me. And there’s that feeling again.
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