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peterpumpkinparker · 5 years

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Getting Better |2|~ River Lea

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2000

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Constructive Criticism always appreciated!

“Parker,”

his last period’s teacher stated plainly, barely loud enough to be heard over the yell of the rowdy teens.

Peter picked up his tired head, his brown eyes looking up tiredly. The teacher’s stony face was evident with sternness as she looked upon the paper in her hand.

Peter’s stomach erupted with butterflies as he jumped up quickly. Did he do it?

He raced to her desk, signing a paper with tingling hands and looked at the paper, a hint of pale blue on the borders of the crisp white edges. His heart raced and his hands rubbed the soft interior of his sweatshirt as she looked at the paper with a face of steel.

It felt like an hour (when it was only a few seconds), but the stern woman handed Peter his report card.

“Not bad Mr. Parker,” she stated with the smallest hint of a smile, “much better than last semester. Just make sure you keep it up.”

Peter looked at the small sheet, the angry butterflies in his stomach transforming into what felt like soft clouds.

“Um uh- yeah, of course,” Peter replied as he still stared at the paper in disbelief.

He walked back to his seat, thumbing each letter grade in each class. A smile played on his lips- mostly B’s, and a hand full of A’s. Much better than last year- towards the end of that year, when being his alter ego was getting a little out of hand, he was skipping classes and not doing work, which resulted in him almost failing. He had worked tirelessly to start paying attention in class again and getting his grades back up- and to his surprise, he actually did it. Now he just had to do it over and over again throughout the year. But he would manage. Nothing in the world was going to make him repeat what he did last year.

In his transfixed state of self pride over his report card, Peter wasn’t paying attention to the clock, which was unlike him. Peter was the kid who counted down the seconds before the bell rang, his jitters making him tap his foot furiously on the floor or rap his pencil on his desk.

The shrill period bell rang, declaring the school day was over. The kids stampeded out of the room as the teacher yelled out about the test next class, Peter being the strangler. He stuffed his pencils and paper in his semi-new backpack, then carefully folding his report card and placing it in the pocket of his jeans. Peter nodded a goodbye to his teacher, and shuffled his way into the packed hallway.

A new type of joy bubbled in his stomach- this was going to top the already good day off- it was time to be Spiderman.

Peter put in his earbuds quickly and jogged out of the school, weaving through the very familiar streets and sidewalks until he finally reached his favorite deli, the worn words “Delmar” clearly being seen from the streets. He walked in, a little chime going off as he opened the glass door. The smell of salty food filled the air as a loud Spanish conversation was being heard in the back room. Warm light filtered in from the street.

Peter was just pulling out his earbuds as someone shoved his shoulder, the person clearly in a hurry. Peter grunted from the contact, a “Sorry” already spilling out of his chapped lips as the person walked out the door. The person didn’t turn to reply, their rushing body walking out the door as the same chime sounded yet again. With one white earbud dangling from his hand, he turned to see only a glimpse of the stranger out of the window- a girl, the female’s hair being obscured by a red handkerchief that covered most of her forehead and neck, while black sunglasses obscured her eyes.

Peter looked at the now empty street, his senses making his fingers tingle and his abused shoulder thump with what felt like electricity- an unsettling feeling started traveling throughout his body.

“That was weird”, he thought with a confused look on his face.

He was still looking out the window when a familiar voice called his last name. He tentatively looked away from the window, turning to meet the expectant face of Mr. Delmar.

“Oh hey Mr. Delmar,” Peter replied hesitantly. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad, kid, not bad- been a pretty busy day but I aint complaining.” Mr. Delmar chuckled with an air of ease.

“Thats good….really good,” Peter said distracted, wondering why his Spidey senses reacted so harshly to when who-ever-that-was brushed his shoulder.

“You gonna order?” Mr. Delmar again broke his train of thought.

“Oh- yeah- yeah! Sorry, could I get my usual? With a pack of gummy worms, thanks,” Peter gave a tight smile, looking out the window yet again as Mr. Delmar told, in Spanish, the person next to him what to make for Peter’s order.

A few minutes later, Mr. Delmar laid his sandwich and pack of candy on the counter next to the cash register.

“By any chance- do you know who that was? The one with the-” Peter motioned to his head as he handed him a crumpled 10 dollar bill.

“The girl with the handkerchief? Nope, never saw her before, sorry kid,” he replied as he handed him back a couple ones with some change.

“Oh, its okay, thanks anyway,” Peter said as his stomach fell slightly. Something about his senses was rubbing him the wrong way- but he brushed it off, thinking that his high excited emotions were making them “malfunction” a little. He stuffed his change and food into his backpack, petted Mr. Delmar’s fat ginger cat, and quickly left the shop, his mind completely forgetting the girl and going to usual spot to transform into the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

___

He loved being Spiderman.

At school, he was the kid who sat quietly in the back, did his work, talked only to his friends. He was ridiculed by Flash for being smart- but as Spiderman, none of that was there. He had no nervousness, no awkwardness- he was free to do what he wanted, when he wanted and help people who needed it.

He got to help all the little Peter Parker’s who didn’t have the luxury of turning into Spiderman deal with all the Flash’s of the world.

Spider Man did have its downsides though. Like instead of the high schoolers at his school ridiculing him for being a nerd, the “city” bullies were shooting gun ammo at him.

Every job had its down sides though- his was just more on the deadly side, but he could care less.

Today was actually kinda slow. Peter didnt have to deal with any wierdos selling alien tech in dark alleyways, no guys trying to shoot him down with their own homemade inventions. It was kinda nice to Peter. Dealing with those guys were sometimes fun because it let him test his power’s limits, but doing it constantly was stressful and draining.

It was now starting to get dark, the last rays of light beaming out on the horizon, as if the sky wasn’t ready to give up its pretty shades of pink, orange, and red at sunset. Peter’s day as Spiderman went very smoothly, to his surprise (because it never really did)- he stopped someone from jacking a car, helped an oldy cross multiple streets (it took forever), help a little girl find her lost puppy, and met a couple of little fans on the way.

After the whole fight with Vulture last year, many families were thanking Spiderman heavily for keeping the streets safe for their children, which was rubbing off on the little ones. A whole Spiderman Revolution had taken over the city, little kids now begging their parents to get them Spiderman t-shirts and costumes, and little kids now looking up at the sky constantly trying to catch a glimpse of the human Spider. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really liked it. It was nice getting some recognition- even if it was coming from citizens who were now just learning how to add.

He loved meeting the little kids- they always made his day with their outlandish questions and shocked, excited faces.

The wind was now whipping in Peter’s face as he did his last patrols around NYC, his webs detaching and reattaching to each building he was flying through on his pearly white webbing. This was his favorite part- just flying through NYC, above the heads of everyone, almost like he was in his own little world. This was when he could think at his best- really think things over and figure stuff out that was bothering him. But, the week had been exhausting, filled with tests and high point assignments he had to do well on, so all he really wanted to do was go home.

He stopped by his spot where he kept his clothes, the sunset finally giving up its bright colors and letting the cool of night take over. He quickly grabbed his backpack, the webbing he used to protect it from muggers now being dissolved into nothing.

He grabbed his backpack and began to walk home.

He entered his apartment, twisting the key against the old doorknob. The faint smell of burnt food wafted in the air, an all too familiar smell to Peter.

“Aunt May?” He asked tentatively as he wrapped his earbuds tightly around his phone screen.

“Peter?” Aunt May shot her head behind the counter of the kitchen sink, her long brown tresses Falling gracefully against her back.

She smiled, and walked over to give him a hug.

“So,” she asked as she released him, “anything at school? Anything new? Interesting?” She pressed him a little, as if softly coaxing a conversation.

Peter tightened his lip, shaking his head nonchalantly.

“Nothing?” She asked again, almost as she was trying to get the truth out of something.

Peter looked up in confusion. There wasn’t anything that big today. It was pretty normal-hanged out with Ned, helped MJ plan a trip for the Quiz Bowl team, took notes all day.

She sighed happily, trying to suppress a smile.

“So,” She busied herself with a pot of spaghetti on the stove, “I got in the mail a copy of your report card.”

“Oh,” Peter said in realization, looking up at his aunt as he waited for her to say more.

“I’m really proud of you Pete.” She smiles at him, placing a kiss on his forehead. “You really are maturing, getting your time management down, planning your future-you can’t lose this Peter. ‘Kay? You gotta keep truckin forward-your too smart to throw it all away.All A’s and B’s!” She spewed out, her pride radiating off her face.

Peter smiled again, a little bit of embarrassment evident in his face.

He shrugged.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” he smiled nonchalantly as he set his backpack down.

“Well, it is,” May stated, “which is why I tried to make a cake… which clearly,” she laughed, “Didn’t go very well at all.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head happily. His aunt wasn’t the most amazing cook by any means, but she did try.

“So...I was thinking we could get some Thai? Sound good?”

Just as Aunt May finished, Peter felt his phone buzz in his back pocket.

He fumbled for it.

“Yeah, Yeah sounds great!” He smiled quickly to his Aunt, his heart picking up pace as he dashed to his room to answer the call.

“Hey-uh-Mr. Stark! What’s up?” Peter asked, awkwardly stuffing his free hand into his pocket.

“Nothing kid,” Stark replied nonchalantly, “was wondering what’s going on with you.”

Peter’s face shifted to surprise. Stark never called unless it was important-and most of the time if it was really important, Stark would visit him with warning. And never just to see “what’s going on” in his life.

“Uhm..” Peter mumbled, “just was gonna go out to eat with my Aunt.”

Peter looked out his door, hoping Stark would finish a little quickly so he wouldn’t leave his aunt waiting.

“Great great,” Stark sweeped away Peter’s sentence. “Listen kid-I called you to tell you something- not a mission or anything-just an event.”

Peter’s heart fell a little. He was hoping he would be doing another team up mission with Stark-those were always so awesome.

“in a couple weeks I’m gonna have something special going on, ya know, the whole Stark wedding and all...and I was actually going to invite you to it. If your up for it.”

Stark continued to talk, but Peter was so surprised and elated he started tuning it out. He actually got invited to something important to Stark. He always looked up to him, so this felt like an achievement of some sort.

“I’m-uh-Yeah sure! I’ll be there,” Peter accepted politely, his body turning away from his door.

“Great kid, Pepper’ll be happy,” Stark sighed, “but I’m sorry to break it to you, but a theres catch to this whole wedding thing.” Stark threw in, catching Peter off guard.

“Is it bad?” Peter asked tentatively, hoping it wasn’t crazy.

“Well, depends…,” Stark drawled out.

“You need to get a date.”

“Wait-What?!?” Peter yelped.

Not another date Peter thought. The last time he had to ask someone out, it wasn’t-well-amazing. He had taken his crush to Homecoming, but it turned out that her father was a super villain and tried to kill him. And he had to ditch his date, so that kind of ruined any type of relationship after that.

“Your gonna have to figure it out kid.” Stark instructed, cutting against Peter stuttering.

“Wait-did-why do I-“

“I gotta go kid!” Stark ended, “I’ll have Happy send you an invitation and all that, but remember-Get. A Date.”

“Bye kid,”

Peter heard a click from the other end. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at his screen. He breathed out, turning his tired body away from his phone and suppressing the want to roll his eyes.

And with that, Peter’s night got instantly more stressful and a little annoying.

Hope you guys enjoyed! More parts will be up soon, but thank you for reading!

Taggings:

@petersshirts @just4muggles @starksparker @starksmile @bisexualparkers @spiderboytotherescue @hollandroos

(I seriously cant think of tags right now ACK)

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divorcedfiddleford · 7 years

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i know this is random, but do you have any tips on writing ford and fiddleford? you do a really good job on their characterizations and even though i'm very familiar with their characters i always write people out of character when i'm writing, lol! thanks !!!!

ghhhgg i Kid but anyway im like super distracted so i just made a list of a bunch of common mistakes i see when people r writing themedit: i was so wrong i made such a long fucking post im sorry this was a Mistake (rip mobile users)

first things first everything in the journal was Fake

fiddleford:

“fiddleford is a poor precious cinnamon roll who is helpless and did nothing wrong uwu” fuck off he built all those robots and probably killed a bunch of people in the process he isnt some innocent sunflower he’s more like a rowdy dandelion

yes this applies even if you’re writing young fiddleford he was just more patient and less open with his life of crime because he didnt want to go to jail

his eyes are blue. theyre fucking blue. theyre fucking b

“he doesnt like swears/he’s soft-spoken” wrong he’s literally the only character to have sworn on-screen

“he started the society because he was traumatized by what he’d seen” no, where did you get that idea. he literally says he invented the gun because he was “haunted by the thoughts of what I’d done” >literally stating that it was guilt not fear that was bothering him. eventually yes he used it for erasing scary memories but that was not his initial intent

he’s not bald anymore

really any idea that fiddleford is pathetic is grossly ooc i can think of one situation in the show that he wasn’t able to get himself out of and thats because he was turned into a fucking arras

what is this southern belle bullshit… he chews tobacco and wrestles pigs please stop woobifying this force of nature

a banjo is not the same as a guitar. a banjo is not the same as a guitar. a banjo is not the same as a guitar.

if youre going to write accents don’t be obnoxious about it

EX: “How are y’all doin’ this fine evening?”NOT: “Hower y’all doien’ this fain evenin’?”you don’t have to use the mannerisms in every sentence and you don’t have to drop the g in every -ingphonetic spelling is a pain to read like at the most you should be using apostrophes not respelling words (“Stanferd” more like kill me now)

also make sure your mannerisms are geographically accurate he’s not from texas i never want to see him say “sugah” again

his accent isnt even that strong in the show …what……….

tip: fiddleford is salty as FUCK he has NO MERCY and holds onto grudges like a lifesaver in a storm

tip: he loves being around people and will talk to them about fucking anything such as his multiple cases of manslaughter but doesn’t usually open up about his insecurities unless prompted

further reading: 1 2 3

for both:

enough of the angst. enough. enough

if you’re going to make them trans don’t milk the dysphoria

tip from my pal rudy @blue-dipper (im not trans)

same kinda goes for if youre doing romance dont overplay the internal/external homophobia i made that mistake so many times its just clunky and gets in the way of the characters

the whole idea of “the innocent one” vs “the sinful one” is garbage. abandon it. you will feel a weight lifted from your shoulders

realistically if it’s a reunion thing don’t make them hook up automatically this shit takes time

in general avoid stereotypes. some examples being “the hippie” or “the nerd” just write them like they act on the show its easier and more enjoyable for everyone involved

ALEX HIRSCH ≠ WORD OF GOD only the stuff in the show needs to be considered 100% canon you can pick and choose all the other stuff or ignore it entirely

in conclusion all fiction is subjective and writing someone “in character” all depends on how you perceive the character. these are my perceptions of the character and yeah i get really frustrated when people don’t agree because i believe mine are those that make the most sense and that good representation of neurodivergent and lgbta+ people is important also im petty and annoying. the most important thing is that you be consistent with your portrayals (unless your perception of the character is inconsistency in which case good luck)

#tales of the wild zeep #i am so sorry #gf metanalysis #ford #fiddy #gravity falls #fiddauthor #long post 0334 #really long post i am so sorry #gif warning -3-//#anonymous #ask

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years

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'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/i-completely-lost-it-the-movie-scenes-that-made-our-writers-weep-2/

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

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On the face of it, Paddington is a fairly broad kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, and so probably shouldnt make a grown human cry hot, salty tears. But that description ignores the fact that Paddington is a really, really well-made kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, one that completely gets the pathos of its central character, a little lost immigrant searching for something resembling a family. Both films ably tug at the heartstrings, but the second film got me sniffling as early as 15 minutes in when Paddington imagines giving his only living relative, Aunt Lucy, a tour around London, something that in reality is impossible as shes stuck thousands of miles away in darkest Peru. When at the end of the film spoiler alert Aunt Lucy arrives on the Brown familys doorstep and she and Paddington hug, I completely, unapologetically lost it. Lord knows what surprises Paddington 3 has planned for my tear ducts. GM

When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

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Just before writing this, I put When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2 on YouTube once again, just to check. Yep. Just as always, I choke up, in the same abject, lip-wobbling, head-bowed way. It still has that terrible power.

When She Loved Me is the song written by Randy Newman and sung by the devastated toy cowgirl Jessie and in fact performed, beautifully, on the soundtrack by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan. The song is Jessies way of telling Woody why she has grimly decided to submit to the airless world of the toy museum, because it is better than the inevitable heartbreak and delusion of loving a fickle human child. She reveals her anguish that her owner, Emily, has fallen out of love with her outgrown her, in fact. As Emily entered the world of adolescence, pop music and boys, Jessie was left under the bed and finally dumped.

When I first saw this scene and misled by the size disparity between toy and owner I thought it was a parable for a childs anxiety over being abandoned by the parent. But now that I am a parent I can see the truth which is completely the opposite way around. It is about the parents fear of being abandoned by the child: the terrible fear, actually the terrible certainty, that the kid one day wont want to play with you. They will grow up and want something else. This song is utterly devastating. It is modern cinemas equivalent of the Vesti La Giubba aria from Pagliacci the tragic clown smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. Im afraid to watch it too often. I dont want to break down over and over again. But I also want to preserve its power over me. PB

Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

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In many respects, Fried Green Tomatoes is not a movie for the modern age. It is a story about racism in the deep south told largely by way of eliciting our sympathies for wealthy white characters; it is a story about a lesbian relationship that had to slide its lesbian relationship in unnoticed, by presenting it as a very close friendship fulfilled by food fights, poker games and heads leaning meaningfully on shoulders. But I am deeply fond of this 1991 Sunday afternoon classic. Ive seen it more times than is healthy, and so I know exactly what is coming and when, and yet am still unable to resist the inevitable guttural sobbing that comes with the death scene.

There are plenty of teasers for it, too: Buddy on the train tracks, even Mrs Threadgoode talking about the death of her adult son. Nothing, however, can prepare the viewer for Ruth asking Idgie to tell her the old story about the frozen lake thats now somewhere over in Georgia. It doesnt so much pull on heartstrings as play a full symphony on them, and its devastating. As Sipsey puts it, a lady always knows when to leave. RN

The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

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While I was repelled by the mere existence of the Eat Pray Love book, I found something strangely charming about its big-screen translation. It was a mixture of glossy food porn, glossy travel porn and glossy Julia Roberts emoting porn (she remains one of the best fake criers in Hollywood) all wrapped up in a rather unique tale of a woman trying to unshackle herself from the men in her life. But while that all provided mostly surface-level enjoyment, one scene cut deeper and the extent to which it cuts surprises me still.

As is often with the case with movie tears, these were tied to a real-world experience that had happened not long before I sat down to watch. I was dumped by a long-term boyfriend without much of an explanation and without any sort of warning. I was heartbroken and seeking some form of closure that was kept cruelly out of reach. I didnt understand why it had happened and it was the not knowing that felt harder than the break-up itself.

In the film, Roberts character has left her flighty husband and remains haunted by the heartbreak shes caused. On a rooftop in Delhi, a vision of him appears and they dance to Neil Youngs heart-grabbing Harvest Moon, the song that was supposed to accompany their first wedding dance. She reminds him that she did love him. He tells her he still loves and misses her. They cry and continue to dance. At the end, she tells him that it wont last forever, nothing does. Its a short scene but it hit me like a bus, it still does now. My tears are for the film but theyre also for something deeper: the sting of loving someone who stopped loving me and the ache of an ending I was never allowed in real life. BL

The thunderstorm, Click

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Adam Sandler can make me cry harder than hes ever made me laugh, the true test of a clown. Yes, even in the underappreciated comedy Click about a dad who finds a magical remote control in the Beyond section of Bed Bath & Beyond.

Sandlers workaholic architect fast-forwards through the worst parts of his day the dull weeknight frozen dinners with his family, the repetitive arguments, the gross times everyone gets knocked out by the flu in order to get to his next promotion so he can buy his kids whatever they want. His plan doesnt go well, of course. But whats shocking is how gut-rippingly painful it is to see Sandler hit play on his life only to realize hes skipped past everything that matters. His bodys been present, the bills have been paid, but his emotional engagements been staticky a trade-off too many of us can understand.

In the climax, old man Sandler sobs in a thunderstorm as he arrives at his daughters wedding only to learn shed rather her stepdad walk her down the aisle, and his son has grown up to mimic his job-first, family-second example. I rarely cry at unavoidable tragedies where no ones at fault. My weakness is characters regretting choices they cant rewind. Click isnt Ingmar Bergman Sandler gets a happy ending but I barely saw his relief through the rainstorm on my face. AN

The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

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By all accounts, Robert Bentons film Kramer vs Kramer skews heavily toward Dustin Hoffmans Ted, whose wife Joanna has left him and their six-year-old son Billy. Billy and Ted make french toast together, or argue about eating ice cream before dinner, or visit the nearby jungle gym. Were it not for Meryl Streep and the trenchant, intuitive way she humanizes a woman who, in the 70s, would have otherwise been made to seem mawkish and unstable Kramer vs Kramer might be just a schmaltzy panegyric on fatherhood.

But leave it to our greatest living actor to turn a film on its head with a single scene. You know the one: Joanna, during the custody hearing, is subjected to a string of sexist questions about her failure as a wife and a mother. When asked why shes seeking custody of Billy, she blinks three times, beginning the monologue Streep herself wrote in an effort to redeem her character, who she initially perceived to be an ogre, a princess, an ass.

Billys only seven years old. He needs me, she says, reciting the word need with a whispery uptick as she glances at her ex. Im not saying he doesnt need his father. But I really believe he needs me more. After catching her breath, she becomes more emphatic: I was his mommy for five and a half years. Since I was about Billys age when my parents got divorced, ergo, too young to understand or even care, Ive always been astonished and, by proxy, moved by how compassionately Streep plumbs the depths of Joannas truth. JN

The beach, Under the Skin

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Little focuses the mind more effectively on human distress than the arrival of your own kids; scenes in films which I might once have snoozed through now induce boggle-eyed terror OH MY GOD, DONT LEAVE THAT BABY NEAR THAT COFFEE TABLE, IT HASNT GOT A CORNER PROTECTOR! But nothing has topped at least, not yet the scene in Under the Skin where Scarlett Johansson murders a swimmer and drags him off to eat him.

Its not the murder thats so epically upsetting, though its gruesome enough: Johansson, playing an alien visitor permanently on the lookout for human nutrients, simply bangs him over the head with a large stone as he lies prone and exhausted on the beach. Its what goes on in the background that is so awful. A woman goes into the water to try and rescue her drowning dog, and her male partner instinctively rushes in after her, leaving their toddler alone high on the shore. Johanssons chum the only other adult on this lonely Scottish beach goes to help too.

With the speed of falling dominoes, a nice little day out unravels: the mother and father are swept away to who knows where, and the alien takes her chance to acquire their would-be rescuer as a food source. Meanwhile, the suddenly abandoned kid is shrieking in terror as the night closes in. Another, less astute film-maker, might cap the scene with the alien scooping the kid up and adding him to her dinner menu, but what Glazer contrives is absolutely horrifying. Johansson-alien simply ignores it, and leaves it alone. The film moves on, this incident consigned to the past.

I have to confess I was absolutely blindsided by the scene; mostly, I think, because of the its sheer unexpectedness. I think I was gripped by a kind of internal hysteria: shock, hyperventilation, a feeling the back of my head might explode. (I cant say I actually cried though I may have, but in the confusion I cant really remember.) I certainly had to hold on to the seat to stop myself bolting out of the cinema then and there. I am aware theres a some degree of self-indulgence here: the fact that my daughter was about the same age as the kid in the film undoubtedly super-sensitised my reactions. But everyone has their weak spot; this is very much mine. AP

The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

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Cheaper by the Dozen 2, if you havent seen it you probably havent, why would you have? is the sequel to the remake of family comedy Cheaper by the Dozen, and Im sure it was made because Steve Martin, the star of the franchise, needed to pay his mortgage. The main gist of the movie is that Martin and his wife, played by Bonnie Hunt, have 12 children who get into various japes. Its asinine. But during a time in my life when I was making a lot of transatlantic flights, Cheaper By the Dozen 2 was always an option on the British Airways seatback televisions, and one day I found, because of the frequency of my flights, I had watched all of the other films.

What choice did I have? At the climactic scene, where the oldest daughter, played by Piper Perabo, gives birth, and then names the baby after her father because he has shown her that there is no way to be a perfect parent, but a million ways to be a really good one, I cried so much the man sitting next to me regarded me with what appeared to be real concern. There may have not been enough cocktail napkins on the whole plane to dry my tears. Was it the recycled air? Was it the two miniature bottles of white wine? Or was it that a joyful childbirth scene can warm the cockles of even the coldest of hearts? JHE

The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

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Weve got a real talent for repression back in Massachusetts. Kenneth Lonergans searing Manchester by the Sea plays out a 15-minute drive from my childhood home and, true to life, the characters all struggle to articulate the perfect storms of emotion raging within them.

When Lee (Casey Affleck) has a chance encounter with his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), the shared history between them is literally unspeakable. They sputter out fragments of sentences that act as a shorthand for vast reservoirs of guilt and self-loathing they cant bear to express, and because they know one another so intimately, they can intuit all the meaning they have to. Theyve both shoved a lot deep down inside just so they can look at themselves in the mirror, and when in the presence of the only other person on the planet who understands what theyve been through, some of it has to come out. Randi does most of the talking, inviting Lee to lunch so they can get some closure, and he ends the conversation by walking away. Shes ready to face her past and be fully present in the new life shes built for herself. Lee, a North Shore boy born and bred, feels more comfortable starting a bar fight as his form of therapy. CB

The hotel, Unrelated

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Joanna Hoggs first film, Unrelated, has had something of a second life on account of being the debut of Tom Hiddleston, and set during a Tuscan summer, which means swimming pool, which means toplessness, and lots of it. Its nice to imagine the Loki-lovers streaming this masterpiece of English upper-middle-class excruciation. As its ending shows, specificity is no barrier to emotional oomph.

The story sees a woman in her early 40s, Anna (Kathryn Worth), holidaying with old friends and their teenage children. She finds she prefers the company of the kids, especially the charming Oakley (Hiddleston, then 26, playing eight years younger). The holiday implodes. Anna goes to stay at a grim airport hotel. Her friend visits, crossly wanting to know whats behind her behaviour. Anna explains that, quite recently, she thought she was pregnant but no, in fact, it was an early menopause. Shell never be able to have children. She sobs and bends double on the bed. It is shot in one take, from the middle distance, acted with a banal frankness which feels like eavesdropping.

When I saw it a decade back, it floored me: a twist I hadnt foreseen, a pain I could only imagine. A few years ago, I began consciously avoiding the film, fearful a similar fate awaited me. Now I can safely watch it again or, I thought I could, but Hogg is much too superb and mysterious a film-maker for that. It isnt simply the information which is terrible, it is the dreadful catharsis of its expression, coming after so much obfuscation. The stifle has gone; instead there is the most awful sadness. Buttoning up is often the bravest way. CS

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years

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'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

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'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

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When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

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Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

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The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

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The thunderstorm, Click

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The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

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The beach, Under the Skin

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The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

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The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

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The hotel, Unrelated

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Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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