Are You Surprised At My Tears, Sir?

I spent the summer of 2002 working with a handful of other college students as an intern in the research library of the Baseball Hall of Fame, a job that provided both excitement (induction weekend) and drudgery (alphabetizing thousands of contract cards). Most days, the latter outweighed the former, leaving us to talk about whatever was on our minds.

One day, the topic of conversation was "Field of Dreams", specifically whether or not we broke down and cried during the last scene. Out of our group of nine or so people, only two claimed indifference to Ray Kinsella's family reunion. One was a guy from Texas who defended himself by noting that he cried at the end of "Old Yeller", the other a young lady from Pennsylvania who made no apologies for her cold-heartedness, even going so far as to state that she liked "The Sandlot" better.

I mention this now because until recently, "Field of Dreams" was the only movie that consistently brought a tear to my eye. That last scene speaks to so many things - relationships between fathers and sons, second chances, the limited acting range of Dwier Brown - that it just hits me on a different level than most films.

Lately, though, I've found that another flick effects me in a similar way: Armageddon, that American classic starring Bruce Willis, his occasional Southern accent, Ben Affleck, and an All-Star cast.

The thing that always gets me is when the team makes its triumphant return after saving Earth from annihilation. First is the obvious reunion between Liv Tyler and Ben Affleck. Aw, look at them running. Aw, look at them hugging. They're so in love! After that, we get a look at Will Patton's Chick - he's just sort of hanging out, minding his own business, when a kid bounds out from behind a line of vehicles. Is that - yes, that's his son, who we met earlier, running to welcome Dad back.

Earlier in the movie, before Chick went into space, it was established that he and his wife (maybe she's an ex-wife, maybe just a girlfriend; they aren't exactly clear on the relationship) don't have the best relationship, so much so that Chick's young son doesn't even know the identity of his father until the boy sees him on TV and the mother reveals the truth. From the dialogue, it's clear that we're supposed to blame Chick for the gap that exists between them; a good but imperfect man, he just never got the hang of being a husband and a dad, of taking responsibility for anything more than himself.

That scene at the end, though, where the boy runs out and Chick gathers him up in his arms, a bewildered but happy look on his face? That's what it's all about, because at that moment, he's not a fuck-up anymore. Anything he might have done in the past, anything he might have screwed up, is irrelevant. To his son, he's a hero.

That should be an identifiable emotion for any father. We all love our kids and want them to love us. It's almost a given. But just as much, we want them to see us as heroes, as larger than life figures who can do anything, up to and including the destruction of a giant asteroid that threatens the very existence of life on Earth. Seeing someone accomplish that, even a fictional character in a movie, is enough to bring a few tears to my eyes.