(Warning: I will try to avoid spoilers where possible, but there are bound to be some sprinkled throughout.  Proceed with caution.)

Bicycle Thieves (1948)

A truly classic film is a perfect convergence of technical skill and innovation with an eloquence of emotion and honest humanity, an alchemy that is difficult both to replicate or quantify.  (Ironically, quantifying that is the job of the film critic.  Oops.)  The quintessential Italian Neo-Realist film Bicycle Thieves, an undeniable classic, is so affecting because of its simplicity.  A man in post-WWII Rome, in economic times that make what we’re living through seem like the Roaring ’20s, is lucky enough to get a job hanging posters around the city.  His family pawns most of their belongings in exchange for a bicycle, which is essential to him keeping the job that is the family’s only hope.  Of course, (SPOILER!) the bicycle is stolen, with the remainder of the movie following the man and his young son searching the city for the stolen bike.  What breaks my heart (besides the boy’s cherub-like face, all pudgy and wide-eyed) is the man’s constant loss of dignity in front of his son, first because of his inability to shield him from the harsh, unforgiving world (a parental duty that, in the end, everyone fails at), and in his failure as a role model to his son, as he is driven to make moral compromises to protect his family.  As he makes the movie’s title plural, he sacrifices his own soul to put bread on his family’s table, and the shock and realization that his father is as flawed as anyone reflected on the boy’s face is enough to send me over the edge.

Big Fish (2003)

Another movie about fathers and sons.

There’s something about boys and their fathers.  I was 8 or 9 when I kissed my dad goodnight for the last time.   I had a couple more years left of hugs, and then physical signs of affection were no more.  This isn’t to say that my father didn’t care about me, or never loved me, or even that he made a conscious decision about what was and wasn’t appropriate ways to interact with me.  We simply conformed to societal norms; expressing that sort of intimacy and affection between two men, according to our society, is over once they’re both out of puberty.  I think this leads to the distance that most sons feel from their fathers, and is why stories of father-son reconciliation strike such strong chords for many, including myself.  (See also: Field of Dreams.)

I love how this movie twists the cliche, though.  Instead of the father who can’t embrace his son’s artistic side, and finally relents and tells him to follow his dreams, it is the son (Billy Crudup) who embraces his dying father’s (Albert Finney) eccentricity.  The tearful, deathbed reconciliation gets me every time, but thankfully, the scene immediately following takes place at a church that looks like it was ripped from the video for Guns N Roses’ “November Rain”, so I’m able to compose myself and dry the tears before anyone can notice.  Because, you know, dudes aren’t supposed to cry.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

A lot of people thought this was an odd choice for Ang Lee, mostly because  it was rooted in the American West, but, thematically, it fits perfectly with many of his other films.  It’s heavy with themes of repressed and denied emotions leading to heartbreak and tragedy for all invloved.  (See also: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; The Ice Storm; and even Hulk.  Hell, especially Hulk.)  The repressed, in this instance, is not a giant green monster, but Enis Del Mar (Heath Ledger), who begins a years-long, tumultuous affair with fellow ranch hand Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal).  Because of a traumatic childhood event, Enis is terrified of ever being outed as homosexual, and does everything he can to keep his affair (and sexuality) from being discovered,  to the detriment of not only Jack and himself, but to their entire families.

Jack dies, possibly of a violent death, and Enis visits the Twist family to pay his condolences.  While there, he discovers that Jack had been saving an old shirt of his, hidden in the back of his closet.  Enis, along with the audience, need to catch their breath, and realize the full weight of Jack’s love, and the potential life and happiness that they never got to experience.

Cast Away (2000)

Wiiiiilllllsssoooooon!!!!

Dead Poets Society (1989)

I like to pretend that kids listen to me.  I work in a high school library, and have taught my fair share of classes and youth groups, and I like to think that maybe a little bit of what I say, or the way I act, can slightly nudge these kids towards being more interesting, informed and responsible people.  Dead Poets Society is educator porn.  Few characters behave like a real person would, with stock characters like the stifled children yearning to break free, or the overbearing parent, or the stuffy school dean, or the free-spirited inspiring teacher spouting platitudes, each pushed to the extreme limits of believability, and then just an inch or two further.  The movie is engaging and entertaining, but also extremely manipulative.  And it sure as hell works at manipulating me.  The final, defiant “O Captain, My Captain” scene (you all know the one) still sends a lump to my throat and a few tears squeaking out.  It tells me exactly what I want to hear – “You can make a difference.”

E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)

I love rewatching movies with people for the first time.  You get to relive your original viewing, and see the film with fresh eyes, reliving that original sense of discovery vicariously.  It’s probably my favorite thing about co-running a film club for high school kids.  A few weeks ago, my wife and I watched a 4 year old relative for a few days, and watched E.T. with him one evening.  He was a bit reluctant at first, but by about 20 minutes in, he was completely engrossed, as was I along with him, even though I’ve seen the movie dozens of times.  Spielberg, in his heyday, was able to bring a middle-class authenticity to the characters in his movies, which diffuses out to the more fantastical aspects.  It’s what makes us feel for what is, essentially, a little person in a funny rubber suit.  We see this world through Elliot’s eyes, and since Elliot and his world is painted so authentially, we completely buy his magical telekinetic and tele-empathic alien friend.

Near the end, the boy looked over at me, worried, and asked if ET was going to be OK.  “I hope so,” I reassured him.  I won’t say I had a quiver in my voice, but I won’t say I didn’t.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

This is the only movie on this list whose big cry comes from joy and relief, with little to no hint of melancholy.  The saccharine, feel-good conclusion is completely earned, though, by the pathos that precedes it.  George Bailey spends his whole life deferring his own dreams for his family and community, only to have it all blow up in his face.  He is facing financial ruin and serious jail time, leading him to contemplate suicide.  The realization of all of the good that he’s done, aided by the magical interference of amicable angel Clarence, is one of the most life-affirming conclusions to any film.  Maybe your life sucks, and you may feel it’s all a waste, but the true measure of a person is what they give to the world and what they make out of the limited time and resources the world gives them.  We may all know that, but like George, we’ve all had our moments of doubt.  Every holiday season, I’m a hot mess from “Merry Christmas, movie house!” right up to “Atta boy, Clarence!”

Lonesome Dove (1989)

OK, so I cheated.  (I’m kind of known for doing that, actually.)  Lonesome Dove is a made-for-TV miniseries, but when I thought of this list, it was the first thing I wrote down.  And look at the cast: Robert Duvall, Tommy Lee Jones, Danny Glover, Chris Cooper, Diane Lane, Anjelica Huston…most movies don’t have half that caliber of actors.  When people talk about the greatest TV movies of all time, this is always at the top of their list, right next to Roots and Band of Brothers.

Few westerns are tragedies.  Maybe The Ox-Bow Incident, and I wouldn’t say that High Noon or The Searchers end on a particularly happy note, but most westerns are films of triumph.  They focus on how the west was won, and not how limited, costly, and often immoral that “victory” was.  Similar to more modern films set out west, like fellow-list-member Brokeback Mountain (which, not coincidentally, was screenwritten by Larry McMurtry, who wrote the Pulitzer winning novel that this is based on), this movie isn’t afraid to show true human tragedy and weakness.  Like Brokeback, this movie also revolves around two men, both former Texas Rangers: Gus, (Robert Duvall), pining after a lost love, and in many ways, a wasted life, and Call (Tommy Lee Jones), an emotionally stunted and repressed man who focuses on anything he can to help him forget the pain he’s caused himself and others.   They run a cattle drive from Texas up to the virgin lands of Montana, with the true cost of taming a land, and stealing that land, laid completely bare.  Every character must face some sort of tragedy, with death often being the least cruel.  Because the characters are painted so vividly, flaws and all,  that there are several moments ripe for a good shedding of tears.  One in particular, involving possibly Duvall’s greatest scene ever (he’s stated that this is his favorite role), is the one that gets to me the most.  I’ll leave that to you to experience on your own, though.

Eventually, Call, whose brainchild the whole venture was, ends up back in Texas, being interviewed by a newspaper man, who heralds him as a “man of vision.”  The movie then resorts to the old cliche of the flash-back montage, recalling every major event of the miniseries.  The catch here, though, and the reason I completely forgive the trope, is that it’s a montage of death and sorrow.  “Yep,”  Call replies.  “One hell of a vision.”

Up (2009)

As a kid, lots of movies used to make me cry.  Sometimes I was scared by the likes of the trees, monkeys, wizards and witches in The Wizard of Oz, saddened by dead or missing parents in Bambi or The Journey of Natti Gann, or simply just disturbed by the mistreatment of an elephant in Dumbo.  My point, aside from admitting to ALWAYS having been a big wuss, was that kid’s movies used to be dangerous, and not afraid to elicit strong emotions.  Sometime since, though, family movies started playing it safe, limiting and sanitizing its tragedies.  It didn’t trust kids to be able to handle heavy or complex emotions.

In recent years, though, there’s been a sea change, spearheaded by Pixar Studios.  With each film, they’ve taken on complex, heady and emotionally resonant issues, from personal and artistic integrity (Ratatouille) to finding meaning in life and work (Toy Story, Monsters Inc.) to finding love in a bleak, unforgiving world (WALL-E), all without talking down or oversimplifying their themes for children, and winding up making some of the best films of recent years.  In their newest film, Up, the filmmakers are able to recreate the highs and lows of love and marriage, completely intact with all the joys and adventures of partnership, the strength you derive from each other during hard times, and the complete sense of loss when one is left alone.  They do this all in the span of five minutes.  And without dialogue.  Ten years ago, that wouldn’t have been allowed in a major studio’s family film.  Now, it makes for some of the best moments in cinema, and a boon for the tissue industry.

So, are you all big movie-gushers, too? What films make you guys pull out the hankies?

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