My good friend Charles Dickens wrote in Great Expectations,
“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.”
Lovely sentiment, but my most recent tears are worthy of shame. I’m hesitant to even admit, but they sprang forth whilst watching Breaking Dawn: Part 2 this weekend (which I saw more than once but less than 4 times…lame).
Some people cry a lot during movies—I’m looking at you, Mom and Dad—I’m not one of those people. When the lacrimal fluid is loosed, though, it’s ugly. And it’s almost exclusively with movies where it’s just stupid to cry (Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith; Titanic; The Fox and The Hound; The Dark Knight Rises). Tears during Titanic seem fair enough, but The Fox and The Hound?? I was about eight years old and had never cried over a movie before. So embarrassing.
What really got me with Breaking Dawn was how darn good it was, how I didn’t know about the plot twist and felt genuine concern for the characters (the collective gasp when Aro and Carlisle tangle), how it was the end. I have an exceptionally hard time saying good-bye; that emotional investment isn’t easily eradicated.
And yeah, I know it’s odd to talk about a Twilight flick being “good,” but this one really is! The special effects still stink, but the cast seems to have learned to act. Maybe it was the personal coaching K-Stew got from that director fellow.
Characters were—dare I say it?—charming and funny. All of the self-consumed brooding was notably absent. And while some of the plot remained thin, the storytelling was much improved from the novel and earlier films. It’s like they finally hit their stride, just in time to end on a high note.
Breaking Dawn won’t garner the critical acclaim of Lincoln (which I still need to see), but it’s solid. My inner 15-yr-old couldn’t be happier.