God is great, beer is good, and film critics are crazy

One of the cable channels was running “Mr. Holland’s Opus” this past weekend, and in the process of surfing I caught the end of it. What happened to me when he walks into that auditorium to an ovation from past and present students is what always happens to me: I got a big lump in my throat and tears filled my eyes. I don’t know how many times in the past 15 years I have seen that particular scene, but my response is always the same.

As I recall, that movie did well at the box office and in the video stores, but by and large the critics didn’t seem to care for it. “Clichéd” and “manipulative” are the words that come to mind, as well as “schmaltzy” and “sentimental.” It is, I know, not unusual for the public to like a movie better than the critics, but watching that scene from MHO got me to wondering, not for the first time, why that should be.

Another movie that came out in ’95 was “Leaving Las Vegas.” No schmaltz there, but if Cage’s and Shue’s characters aren’t a couple of clichés, then there’s really no such thing; the fact that their portrayals of their respective characters are outstanding doesn’t make them clichés any the less. Even so, the end of that film evokes a response in me, too—one of pity for the human condition. I don’t cry at the end of LLV, but instead briefly ponder razor blades or ropes hanging from rafters. And that, too, is a result of manipulation. Needless to say, critics could not say enough good things about it.

Story will always be what matters most, and movies that “move” me will always be the ones I like best, regardless of whether I’m left with a lump in my throat from a warm and fuzzy feeling or from one of hopelessness and despair. I just don’t understand why film critics generally seem to prefer the latter to the former. Why should a film that shows our darkest selves deserve more praise than one that shows what is best in us? I don’t think we are in any danger of overestimating the good and generous side of human nature, especially in view of recent world events.

Because here’s the deal as I see it: in spite of recent world events, good things do happen, every day. Random acts of kindness are in fact practiced, people are reunited, diseases get ameliorated or cured, people fall in love, animals rescue people (and vice-versa), people make sacrifices that make a difference in other people’s lives and are eventually acknowledged for it, and plenty of alcoholics get help before they manage to drink themselves to death. Little redemptions of all kinds occur, and why critics give only begrudging respect, if not outright dismissal, to films that celebrate this is beyond understanding.

Makes me want to buy the world a Coke. And some popcorn. And invite them all over to watch “Old Yeller.”