How is it possible that a movie quote can destroy me?

“Life is like a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get.”

This quote, which has been excessively parodied, paid tribute to and repeated in popular culture, is just a simple and beautiful truth that a mother says to her son during their last moments together. This is a small and cute moment of a story in which, for the last time, that son looks her mother in the eye and assimilates everything she has taught him throughout the years. However, this is not the quote I refer to in this article's title since that one is much shorter but, after witnessing the whole protagonist's journey, is even more moving and devastating. Regarding this topic, it is interesting that, a few years ago during an interview, Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu uttered a phrase that, as this quote and many others from the film I'm about to analyze, deeply moved me due to its undeniable truth about life and death. He said:

“My theory is that life is an endless cycle of losses we suffer. From birth to death, we are losing.”

From the hundreds of movies cinema has offered me since I was born, Forrest Gump is the one I have seen the most in my 32 years alive. I still vividly remember my father—or mother, there's no difference—putting the cassette in the VHS player to watch this movie. Every time I saw it, my 6-year-old self would be increasingly impressed. Time, unintentionally treacherous, shaped me just like it shaped everyone. The experiences, lessons, mistakes, learnings and losses were all there, breaking my heart and also making me smile every once in a while throughout the years. Nonetheless, if there's something I never forgot from my childhood until now is the audiovisual memory engraved in my brain thanks to the film adaptation of Winstom Groom's 1986 novel.

Maybe I believe that my life also feels like a movie, like the most famous cinema ping-pong player's, because I identified with the young Forrest at the time—or maybe there's another reason still unknown. At least that's how I feel, taking into account what the character and I have been through. Just like Forrest and Jenny, my partner and I have a tree which we used to climb at the beginning of our relationship and which was where we first kissed. Just like Forrest in his teenage years, I never had the guts to start a conversation with a girl of my age. Just like Forrest and Bubba, the beginning of my relationship with my best friend was somewhat unfortunate… and I could go on with the parallels. Maybe that's why I immediately start crying after listening to no more than twenty seconds of Alan Silvestri's soundtrack.

Do I cry inconsolably because of the memory of the impact this film had on me or due to the universal essence of the story itself? I could never decide and, honestly, I'm not interested in deciding either. Behind every far-fetched thought, analysis and conclusion, there's an unequivocal truth which only I know: there's something deeply engraved inside my chest related to this film which I'll never be able to erase. Many of us should pay attention to Forrest's simple life. Truth is that movies like this one—classic, simple and moving—are no longer made nowadays. As the audience, most of us are looking for originality and I believe that, in this everlasting search, we watch films waiting to witness something different and we actually forget what makes cinema different from other arts.

In my case, one of the things I mentally ask for when I decide to give two hours of my attention to an audiovisual production is for it to be effective, that is to say, that the film is not intended to please everyone. Recently, I watched Alien: Romulus, a film that tries to satisfy everyone through tributes, references and plenty of fan-service. In Forrest Gump, we witness the extraordinary life story of a person from his youth to his adulthood, it is that simple. The journey of this innocent but purely human character can make us feel endless emotions since it doesn't pretend to be something it's not. That's why, when we get to the toughest parts, it's almost impossible not to cry. For example, when his “best good friend” Bubba dies in his arms and when Forrest, who just got home from Vietnam, and Jenny, turned into a Californian hippie, reunite among the crowd after several years and share a hug that seems to last for eternity.

After running the most important marathon of his life and getting back with his one true love, Forrest meets his young son, also named Forrest. Even though there are theories on the Internet about the veracity of this paternity—even if the movie confirms it with certain nods—I never cared. I never wanted to believe Jenny was a villain or that she wanted to take advantage of him. She's a human being who may have made some mistakes, but that's what life is about. When she has the opportunity to restart everything, an unknown virus appears to change it all. Just like with Mrs. Gump, we see Jenny and Forrest together for the last time on screen. Under the tree which gave them many joys, he buries her, dedicates her a few words and states before saying goodbye:

“I miss you, Jenny.”

Seconds after watching this moment for the first time, my heart changed completely and every time I rewatch it, it hurts in the same way. This is pure and real cinema. The best type of cinema. The most rewarding and genuine art form. The only type of cinema there should be.

BY JERÓNIMO CASCO

Posted on SEPTEMBER 2, 2024, 13:40 PM | UTC-GMT -3

You can also find me on Instagram as 👉 JerodeSeptimoArte

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