I had heard about the great reviews for Pixar's new film Up, but I blew them off. I thought it would be a solid film, but I didn't think that I would be in tears 10 minutes into the film! When I first saw the trailer for Up a while back, I shrugged my shoulders and didn't think more about it. I just didn't see how a film about an old man in a house that floated away on balloons could be exciting. Boy, was I wrong.
If there's anything that I learned, it's that the Pixar team knows how to tell a story and they're getting better at it each time. If only the other films coming out in American theaters had such heart and soul as this movie. Up is a story about loss, grief, missed opportunities and hope. It's a film that teaches adults the importance of life and why it's necessary to throw the GPS out the window and go on an adventure. But what about those first 10 minutes that made me cry? (I'm serious in that I was biting my tongue, holding back tears.) The emotional connection of what was being portrayed on the screen contained such power, but in a subtle way. Unlike the heavy "green" message in Wall-E, Up's story is about one man's journey rather than the survival of the human race, but, in a nice twist, it's easy to see how we can all be better people by connecting to those around us--even if it's with a wide-eyed innocent named Russell who just wants to help a little too much.
The joy of this film is that we're taken on an emotional rollar coaster as Carl tries to navigate through the land mines of life. What's so special about this film is that it works perfectly on two levels. My son (who will be six in a few months) didn't see the subtle layers of the film whereas I was a mess. To him, the story was clear and filled with adventure and color. (When Carl's house first floats away by a building with a little girl, the sunlight reflected rainbow of color of the balloons filling her room with vibrance is a beauty to behold onscreen.) When Russell explains to Carl how his father no longer comes to sit on the curb with him after his scout meetings, I was cast back to my own five year old self. Russell has captured the essence of relationships: "My father and I used to sit on the curb counting the red and blue cars going by. I know it sounds boring, but sometimes it's the boring things that you remember." Carl knows all about this--you can see his understanding in his eyes. The hurt is there. And I could identify with Russell as the fact that my own father had never taken me to the movies, or taught me how to play baseball or ride a bike or any of the "boring" things that Russell so longed for with his father. But the essence of the movie is about hope, adventure, letting go and of learning to live again. I thought of this as I put my hand on my son's knee and patted him. His father was there. Circles could be broken, there is hope.
A simple act of taking my son to the movie helped me experience a wonderful film and I was exhuberant in the fact that a good story, about people, can still be made in our glitzy world of 2009. Carl and Russell's story is timeless and integral to the human experience. Isn't it funny how going to see a children's movie could evoke such such hope in the power of the human spirit? Anyone who scoffs at animation needs to sit down and seriously take a second look at Pixar's films as they have become progressively mature film after film. Not only do the CGI effects become increasingly beauitful to look at, but the characters and the storylines are becoming more complex and human. Up is no Toy Story. It is an adult film wrapped in a sweet layer of candy so that children of all ages can enjoy it on one level and then, after its wrapping has been taken off, savored and enjoyed.
For those going with young children, remember that Up is PG and not G. There is some violence and scary scenes for young tots. Keep that in mind as there was one little girl crying at some of the more disturbing scenes.
If you're looking to see a film that's your typical summer popcorn flick, Up isn't it. Rather Up is a heart-warming film to help you rediscover your faith in humanity and, if you look hard enough, you might just learn a little something about your own heart as well.
Thoughts on Fatherhood
I had been invited to attend proclamation at city hall in Philadelphia. Mayor Michael Nutter was going to give a citation to the CEO of the organization that I work for her work on National Cancer Research month. As I am on morning duty with the kids, I got them up early, dressed them (with minimum fuss and crying), dropped them off at daycare and early care and then rushed via the El to city hall. To save time, I dropped my daughter off first and then backtracked to drop my son off so that I could park at a different train station than I normally park at. I arrived 10 minutes early for the event, met the major and all worked out well. I remember self-congratulating myself at how smoothly everything went--that I was able to pull it all off. Good going dad!
Toward the end of the day, my wife calls me and asks if I could pick the kids up as she's in an important meeting that's running over. No problem. I have a plan. I'll take the train home, grill hot dogs outside and my kids and I will have a blast enjoying the warm weather. Again, I'm super dad, right? No big deal!
I leave work, get on the train and pray that it doesn't break down as if it does (while I'm underground out of cell phone range) I'm in big trouble. This has happened in the past but, thankfully, all works out well. I get on my connecting train and look at the time. I'm doing great. I get off the train, head to the parking lot toward my car and start staring at it. It's the right make, model, color but the car seat in the back is different. And as I get closer I realize that there is only one car seat. What the heck is going on? For about two seconds, life, the universe and everything is zipping through my mind as I'm trying to connect the dots. Then I realize: Duh, it's not my car. I look to the left and head off and a sick feeling pops up into the pit of my stomach. I didn't park here. I'm at the station that I normally park at. My car is about 2 or more miles away. I look at the time and see that I need to pick both kids up in 45 mins. I need to run 2 miles to get to the car (in my suit with dress shoes, carrying my heavy bag), get my son and then rush to get my daughter.
I took my suit jacket off, folded it up into my bag, took the iPod off and started walking fast. Once I was off the main road, I started running. Then stopped when I couldn't breath going up hill so I stopped running and walked. Between walking fast and running, I made it to the car in 19 minutes. I jumped in the car, picked my son up and called my daughter's daycare saying that I was only minutes away.
By the time I arrived at my daughter's daycare, it was 5:54pm. I had 6 minutes to spare (for those of you who don't have kids--it's strongly requested that you pick your kids up by 6pm. You don't want to be late and, if you are consistently, you'll be charged a fee and can eventually be kicked out of daycare).
I came home, made dinner and the following happened the course of one hour: My son spilled his full glass of milk outside, he drew (had never done this before) with a crayon a wonderful picture onto the rug (thank you, Goop cleaner!) and when my wife came home I sat and was talking to her and the following happened.
My wife: "Don't hit the ball this way! Turn around and play elsewhere."
My son: "Sure, mom." (He turns around and starts playing in another part of the yard.)
About two minutes later I was talking to my wife and I had heard this crack of a ball against a bat and a stinging sensation in my face. My son had turned around and by accident his hitting the ball caused it to fly around my wife and hit me in the cheek. Ouch. I wasn't hurt but was damn surprised.
And, in a nutshell, wow, what a day. I'm cutting off here because I'm late for getting the kids up for school. I need to go take a shower and start the day. That, in a nutshell, is parenthood. It's not a typical day, but it's the type of day that can happen. It's not bad or good. It just is. And throughout the day there are thousands of tiny little moments that happen to test you, surprise you and cause you to laugh at the wonder of existence. It's all there. And getting hit in the face with a whiffle ball, too. Happy pre Father's Day!
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