Those “Bambi” moments - movies that make us cry

I was heartened, years ago, when one of my heroes, Auberon Waugh, admitted he was forever blubbing at films, no matter how bad they were: I had always considered myself a bit of a ladyboy for my propensity to mist up on the flimsiest of pretexts.

Some films catch you unawares - you’re gruffly wiping away a tear before you know it, but you know that you won’t give way next time. These are the movies that cheat the tears out of us, rather than earning them by dint of great acting, great directing, great scriptwriting, a great film score or, more usually, a combination of all these triggers. 

Occasionally, a film will evoke tears for no discernible reason: the cause is buried deep in your subconscious. I’m sure somebody, somewhere in the world, has been left wondering what it was about that scene in Porky’s Revenge IV that left them sobbing uncontrollably.

But today I’m concentrating on those scenes - sometimes, mere moments - which get you every time, no matter how tightly your jaws are clenched while you think about football or traffic jams, or anything which might stop one’s habitual, snottery response. (Of course, when you’re alone you can let rip unashamedly, but it’s different when you’re watching with other, less lachrymal viewers – i.e. everyone I know.)  

I reckon my tally of sure-fire sob-inducers is no more than 30: here’s a small selection (based mainly on whether the clips are available on You Tube). 

The most recent gusher was 2006’s The Lives of Others, the German film about a Stasi officer who covers up evidence to protect a prominent communist-era playwright. Following the fall of the Berlin Wall, the playwright searches the official East German files to discover the identity of his protector. At the end of the film, the former secret policeman sees a display of the playwright’s latest book, Sonata for a Good Man in a bookshop window, walks in, and discovers that the book is dedicated to “HGW xx/7, in gratitude”. That’s his old ID number. The assistant asks him if he’d like it gift-wrapped. “No,” he says, his face and voice, as always, devoid of overt expression. “It’s for me.” (Those last-minute zingers are the worst – there’s simply no time to pull yourself together!)

There are numerous tear-inducing moments in John Ford movies, despite his macho persona. The first of two choices is from She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. It’s the scene where John Wayne’s retiring cavalry officer says farewell to his troops: “Men, I won’t be goin’ out with you…I won’t be here when you return. Wish I could.” I think it’s the way Wayne embarrassedly digs out his specs to read the inscription on the watch his troop has bought him that makes this scene so moving: it tells you what you need to know about this proud, aging man. 

The second Ford moment is the great Ma Joad “’Cos we’re the people” speech in the front of a pick-up in The Grapes of Wrath – I’m sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. (I used to worry that Ma was a raving old commie, but now I’m convinced she would have been right at home in the Tea Party.)

Next up is William Dieterle’s stunning 1939 version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, in which Charles Laughton gives one of cinema’s greatest performances.  Quasimodo rescues Esmeralda from execution, carrying her up to the bell-tower, pausing only to bellow “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” to the vast crowd of extras milling below them on the film’s superb set. The long sequence which follows is possibly the most touching I have ever seen. The man who has just rescued Maureen O’Hara from death starts by saying, “I’m going away so you won’t have to see my ugly face when you’re eating.” That always sets me off, while “I never realized till now how ugly I am… I’m not a man, I’m not a beast. I’m about as shapeless as the Man in the Moon” effectively finishes me off every time.

Laughton eventually directed Night of the Hunter, one of the greatest movies of all time. Helen Hayes is the doughty little woman who exercises my tear ducts here, pretty much whenever she’s on screen – but the scene where, after we hear an owl kill a fluffy bunny-rabbit, she says, “It’s a hard world for little things” always opens the sluice-gates. (This is her finest performance, as it is Robert Mitchum’s – I’m also assured that the rabbit and the owl were never better. Peter Graves is also excellent, but, of course, as any fule kno, his finest role was Captain Oveur in Airplane!)

The war-time propaganda film, Mrs. Miniver (which probably did as much as Pearl Harbour to get the Yanks involved in our little European contretemps) features a sermon by the local vicar, played by Cecil B. De Mille stalwart, Henry Wilcoxon. This takes place in the recently bombed-out village church. The scene piles three tear-jerking safe bets one on top of the other: the brilliantly-written sermon stirs the blood – “This is the People’s War!”; the congregation then sings “Onward! Christian Soldiers”; as they do so, the camera pans up until we’re looking up through a ragged hole in the roof at the empty sky – cue the sound of rumbling engines, and then chevrons of British planes glide into view on their way to pummel the Hun. Who could resist such a cinematic rallying cry? Who wouldn’t want to rush to the aid of these brave, decent, God-fearing folk? 

I don’t normally cry when Charlton Heston is onscreen (or, if I do, it tends to be for the wrong reasons) but there’s a scene in  Ben Hur that always sets my chin(s) atremble. Our enslaved hero, tortured by thirst, is denied water by a sadistic Roman soldier (straight out of the NYPD, by the look of him). Enter a man in flowing robes with the sort of long, straight, freshly-shampooed, honey-blond hair that was no doubt prevalent in Judea 2000 years ago. Jesus (for it is He) gives Ben Hur water. The angry soldier strides towards them. Jesus turns to face him. The soldier halts, doubt and confusion clouding his face as it dawns on him – probably for the first time in his life – that treating another human being so viciously might actually be wrong: after a long pause the soldier turns and walks away. This one short scene, rendered more powerful by the fact that we never see the Messiah’s face or hear his voice, does more to convey the impact of Jesus’ revolutionary teachings than all other Biblical epics put together.

To finish, two children’s films whose combined effect on the world’s lachrymal glands would overwhelm the Thames Flood Barrier. First, The Railway Children – and, yes, inevitably, it’s the “Daddy! My Daddy!” homecoming scene. Second – what else? – it’s Bambi losing his mother. Has the loss of a beloved parent by a child ever been more starkly portrayed? One minute your Mum’s there, the next instant, she’s dead, and all you get from your aloof father is the truth: “Your mother can’t be with you any more.”  No film-maker has more brutally traumatized generations of movie-goers that Walt Disney - and no one has done it more effectively.

As I mentioned, there are plenty of other candidates: 

Field of Dreams: Burt Lancaster turns back into an ageing small-town doctor having stepped out of the magic field which had temporarily transformed him into the aspiring  young ball-player he once was. His final farewell to his erstwhile team-mates - “Win one for me one day, will you, boys?” – does it for me every time.

To Kill a Mockingbird: Scout taking the hand of her reclusive albino neighbour, Boo Radley and leading him up the path to her house after he has saved her from a psychotic killer.

Babe: “You’ll do, pig!”

ET: “Ouch!”

It’s a Wonderful Life: take your pick!

Glory: Black Civil War soldiers – including Morgan Freeman and an impossibly young Denzel Washington – sitting round a campfire, chatting and singing. Yes, the whole exercise is a liberal wet dream, but it’s nevertheless magnificent.

The Exorcist: Regan, now free of her demons thanks to a Catholic priest’s willingness to sacrifice hmself, spots the dog collar worn by one of  her saviour’s colleagues, and spontaneously hugs him. Was there ever a more powerful advertisement for the Catholic church? (And couldn’t they do with a lot more of that right now?)

I’m off now to blow my nose and dry my eyes. Happy blubbing, everyone!