Why was I crying? Why was my mother crying next to me? Les Miserables was not even an hour in, during the I Dreamed A Dream song, and I was already hiccupping breaths in efforts to keep control. But six tears unregretfully ran down my cheeks, four on the right and two on the left.
I like Anne Hathaway, but not that much.
So what was it? The violins reaching into a poignant and somehow familiar crescendo? The empathetic feeling of losing a dream? The well-crafted buildup to this one scene, shot from this one camera angle, capturing this one sense of rawness?
Nearly 15 years ago, on my first trip abroad, I sat in the audience with my mother next to me watching Les Miserables on the stage in London. I cried then too, at the exact same moment.
Surprisingly, some things never change. Genuine human emotions endure through lifetimes, through generations, through art, through Anne Hathaway. Some things, perhaps, actually stay the same.