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Burton rules...
May. 2nd, 2004 10:56 amI hammered out yesterday's quota of words in time to join Natalie and Galina in watching Big Fish, which I enjoyed immensely, in the sense that it was a great film, despite the fact that I teared up several times while watching it and bawled like a baby during the credits. (Yeah, I know, I'm a rank sentimentalist. So shoot me.)
The film hit me on a number of levels: I had a series of momentary flashes where I identified with the father, or with the son, and in ways that we were alike, or different.
Mostly, though, I felt a kinship with the son, who felt he didn't know his father. Now that, I could identify with, because with the exception of a handful of remarks from my mother, my aunt, and my two half-brothers, and a roughly equivalent handful of written materials (one-page letters written to an 8-year-old, a carbon copy of one of his "true crime" manuscripts, a couple of cancelled checks to my mom), my father remains a complete mystery to me. My stepfather does not lag far behind, being very close-mouthed about most of his life before he met my mom.
But here I go again, tearing up as I write this, thinking about the film. If the ability to move you is a mark of a good (or great) film, then Big Fish qualifies.
Cheers...
The film hit me on a number of levels: I had a series of momentary flashes where I identified with the father, or with the son, and in ways that we were alike, or different.
Mostly, though, I felt a kinship with the son, who felt he didn't know his father. Now that, I could identify with, because with the exception of a handful of remarks from my mother, my aunt, and my two half-brothers, and a roughly equivalent handful of written materials (one-page letters written to an 8-year-old, a carbon copy of one of his "true crime" manuscripts, a couple of cancelled checks to my mom), my father remains a complete mystery to me. My stepfather does not lag far behind, being very close-mouthed about most of his life before he met my mom.
But here I go again, tearing up as I write this, thinking about the film. If the ability to move you is a mark of a good (or great) film, then Big Fish qualifies.
Cheers...
