a picture is worth a thousand words
For a time, my sister always had a blue towel tied around her neck. Not in honour or Superman, Batman or other caped crusader. No, she wore hers because of her devout belief that Underdog was the ultimate hero. She wore it around the house. She wore it in the backyard. She even wanted to wear it to school. Some things I never forget.
Everytime I see “Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban” I tear up during this part. No shit. I have no clue why, but this scene moves me so much. The first time it happened I was surprised. I liked all the HP movies, but Oscar-winning material, it ain’t. I figured my swell of emotion was due to the stimulating effects of a darkened, and packed movie theatre, a Jumbo-sized orange pop and corn. I was tripping on the energy of all the little kids in the room (some who were caped as well), and from my sugar high.
So, the next time I saw it at the theatre (we went twice), I had the same reaction. This time, I blamed it on riding the crimson wave. My emotions are always so wacked at that time of the month. I literally had to wipe a tear when Daniel Radcliffe screams out in his cracked-adolescent voice “Expecto Patronum!!”
I’ve watched it several times on DVD now, and it still happens. The lump in my throat remains.
I hate to admit this, too: I can’t wait until May 19th, 2005. I know that I will probably be disappointed on many levels, but one can dream.