It's normal to think that we'll cry when sad stuff happens on screen, when a character we've come to like dies,
when a relationship we wanted to believe in falls apart, when a favorite animal doesn't make it.
Of course, we do sometimes shed tears here, but the odd thing is, especially the older we get, we start crying not when things are horrible,
one toughens up a little, but when a suddenly, and unexpectedly precisely the opposite, when an unusually sweet, tender, joyful, innocent upcoming.
And the little one is Beatrice.
Oh, Beatrice, she's got a mischievous glint in her eye, isn't she?
I've got napkins.
Okay, 33 seconds.
For example, when a rather gruff, distant father shows vulnerability, “I'm proud of you, Flint.
I'm amazed that someone as ordinary as me could be the father of someone as extraordinary as you.”
When two lovers who've been growling make it up, when a child says something incredibly sweet and innocent, “I know, I'm really good.”
When someone is so tender with somebody else. Far more than grimness, it's a particular grace and loveliness which can, for a moment, feel heart breaking.
We're crying not because something sad has happened on the screen,
but because what so lovely on the screen is nudging us to realize semi-consciously that something pretty sad things had been happening in our lives.