Unconsolable For Thirty Minutes... Again

When I was just starting to be old enough where boys were not uniformly yucky, a movie appeared in the theaters called Titanic. A bunch of my girlfriends and I could hardly wait to see it. I remember that my mother was just a bit hesitant to allow me to go. It was the adult themes, I guess. But begging can really work and eventually my mother caved in. So on the following Saturday us kids were scheduled to trek to the theater. But my mother had one request; that I watch one of her favorite movies first.

So a few days before I was to see Titanic, my mother put me in a chair in front of the TV. The movie was on a VHS cassette tape, and my mom slipped it into the VCR that was on a shelf right under the television. She then exited the room and left me alone. I just knew it was going to be some boring movie and totally lame. After all, it was one of my mom’s movies.

It began with some really powerful orchestra music, even before the titles appeared. As I sat there, I had to admit that the music got my attention. What I was seeing on the screen was an ill-defined etching of some sort. Finally after a few minutes, with the music gathering in intensity, the etching evolved into an overhead view of New York City. Then the camera submerged down to the streets, down to New York’s west side, to be exact. And there they were; two rival gangs, the Sharks and the Jets.

I loved the songs and the music. I enjoyed the dancing. But it was when the Jets Tony met the Sharks Maria at the dance I knew I was in it to the end. When Tony and Maria sang to each other “Tonight”, a meteor could have crashed into the backyard and I would not have noticed. And later in the movie when they held each other and sang “Somewhere”, I cried. I just could not hold it in.

When Tony was shot and killed out on the playground at the end of the movie, I was completely heartbroken. I was devastated. It became all the more heart-wrenching when members of both gangs put aside their hatred to carry off Tony’s lifeless body.

I watched the movie clear through the credits and the beautiful music that accompanied them. I then immediately put on my jacket and went out the front door for a walk. I was so distraught that I had to gather my emotions before anyone saw me, particularly my mother. About a half hour later I returned. But when my mother asked me how I liked the movie, the mere question almost made me burst into tears all over again. Somehow I held it together and muttered something like, “I guess it was okay.”

A few months ago I recorded West Side Story from TCM. It has been on my DVR since, unwatched. Last night I decided I would pop some popcorn, pour myself a glass of merlot, and see it again. The movie ended about 9:30 or so. I quickly tuned off the TV, grabbed a coat and went out the door. About 10 o’clock I returned from my walk around the neighborhood, a walk I needed to gather my emotions that had been once again pummeled by the movie.

Okay Mom, maybe it’s a little better than just “okay”.