I Want Everyone to Feel How The Family Man Makes Me Feel
Last night I watched The Family Man. It’s my favorite Christmas movie and I know it’s April, but time doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve been watching every Téa Leoni movie available for streaming because why not (there are some real classics there, and I have some solid recommendations) and I figured I would end with the movie that I’ve watched multiple times every Christmas season since I was 12. It didn’t disappoint. It never disappoints.
Over the last 30 days, I’ve struggled with my depression, my anxiety, and my ADHD. Focusing has felt impossible, and the standards I have built for myself over time seem so desperately out of reach. I keep trying to remind myself that if anyone is meeting their own standards (or anyone else’s) right now, they’re an anomaly. It doesn’t help that expressing my mental health issues feels completely out of touch when people are dying and out of work and putting themselves at risk every day, but, as my therapist reminded me, we’re all experiencing a version of trauma. Comparing trauma helps no one.
I’ve long turned to art when I’m hurting. I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember, read books since before I knew what I was doing, and lived in the deep confines of movies and TV since I was old enough to memorize “Part of Your World”. The comfort I find in art is profound in an unexpected way and comforts me in a way that nothing else can.
At the end of The Family Man (spoilers, I guess, though the movie is 20 years old), Jack (Nic Cage) races through the airport to catch the love of his life at the gate (yeah, THE GATE, it was pre-2001). Kate (Téa Leoni) is moving to Paris, but Jack has realized he can’t live without her now that he’s seen what their life could have been like. In the way that only exists in romantic films, you’re suddenly swept into his speech about their kids and her job and how they desperately love each other.
When Jack talks about their daughter Annie, his face and body language says that this little girl reminds him of Kate and that how he loves Annie reminds him of how he loves Kate, but the only words that come out of his mouth are “and when she smiles…” and his voice cracks. It’s a moment only Nic Cage could have pulled off.
Kate’s face and body language change. Your heart cracks open, letting in slivers of magic and love and hope. He finishes his speech and asks her for coffee one more time and in a way only Téa Leoni can, her voice drops an octave and she says “Okay Jack.” The way she says two words tells you everything — she’s realized she still loves him and even though the last thing you see is the two of them having coffee while the credits roll, you know they’re together. With two words, all of the air has left your lungs and suddenly everything is possible.
I wish I could bottle the way The Family Man makes me feel and give it away. The whole film is packaged gloriously — it’s funny and endearing and awkward and sad and joyful, but the last 10 minutes are where the real magic is, save for the moment about 90 minutes in when Jack says the line that kills me every time.
My god. After all this time, I never stopped loving you.
The Family Man isn’t the only movie that does this for me. It’s not the right movie to do this for everyone. But for me the best way to describe how art makes me feel is to talk about how The Family Man cracks open my chest and makes me believe in magic and love and hope. It’s done it every time I’ve watched it. Several times a year. For 20 years.
Yesterday I quietly launched a new project I’m calling The Story Art Tells. I’ve been sharing more and more art over the last few weeks in an attempt to cope with what’s happening around us. It has helped me. I want it to help other people. It’s my attempt to bottle the way The Family Man makes me feel, if you will.
In a dream world, The Story Art Tells becomes an organization that builds programming to help people cope with the repercussions of COVID-19 through art. For now, and ideally for a long time, it’s a space to share the art that’s speaking to all of us — making us laugh and cry and feel joy in a time that feels overwhelming and exhausting. If you love art or are an artist in any way, The Story Art Tells is for you.
The world we’re living in now is unlike one we’ve ever seen before, and there isn’t going to be a return to normal. Normal is going to look very bizarre for a very long time. The thing I’m holding on to is the idea that art will help us restructure our new normal. It’s helping me breathe a little easier.
If you’re struggling, I hope you’ll look for the art surrounding you. You can always find it at The Story Art Tells if you’re not sure where to go, but art is everywhere. I know you’ll find it no matter where you’re looking. My hope for you is that you find the beauty you need right now. And if any of you happen to personally know Nic Cage or Téa Leoni, please make sure they know that their movie has been my constant source of magic for 20 years. And thank god for that.
