Boyhood
I didn't see Boyhood in the theaters but as soon as it was released on Netflix, I received my copy. It lay on my floor for a couple of weeks because each time I reached for it, the thought of sitting for a three-hour movie seemed too much for a weeknight.
I was also concerned that I'd heard too much hype, with award nominations (and several wins) and other accolades pouring in before I saw it. I thought that I might find the concept - checking in with this boy for a few days each year over 12 years, and using the same cast - would result in something without soul. Boy, was I wrong.
The cumulative experience of watching a boy grow up, and watching his parents grow and watching everything around him grow and change, is utterly powerful. It crept up on me; I was engaged throughout, and could relate to the struggles of both the boy growing up and the (divorced) parents trying to cope, trying to grow. But I did not expect to burst into tears as the film ended, crumpling onto the floor, unable to console myself for a solid ten minutes.
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