There’s something
inherently attractive about sentimental people. Something incorruptible and disarmingly
simple.
Watching the final
minutes of Man On Wire, certainly one
of the greatest documentaries in recent years, you notice how one of Philippe
Petit’s friends-cum-associates breaks into uncontrollable sobbing. Past becomes
overwhelming, you can see it in his face. Words get smeared by tears, and you
can feel your own heart break a little. It does not even matter if the man felt
somehow betrayed by Petit (he had every reason to be) or that was the case of
post-cathartic devastation. What matters is the past, as past always does.
I pity the person who
feels ashamed of his voice cracking, his eyes welling up. Be it a song, a film
ending or even a sudden memory. No tears are ever unjustified. I applaud the
author. But even more so – I applaud the person who felt it.
