I've become a tough audience in my old age, having been an actor and now a writer, so it's rare that I watch a movie and don't groan thinking how much better a job I could've done. But sitting in HBO Studios last night watching Brian Delate's "Soldier's Heart," I was so genuinely moved by his story that my girlfriend, who can read my mind, checked me half-a-dozen times for tears. It's difficult to see a story so simply and honesty told and not be disarmed, especially in an age of concept, formula, and landscapes full of exploding cars. What gets blown up in Delate's movie are the inner lives of its main characters. Delate himself watches over them in the supporting role like a big brother, firm but never judging, patiently nudging them through war, cancer, unemployment, terrible (and hilarious) financial investments, death of loved ones, until finally--and this is what I really took away from the film--burned clean in the fires of their pain, they toss the ashes of their past, their sins, their loss, shame, resentments and regrets, into the ocean and turn their faces toward the new morning sun. The film is akin to a dramatized meditation on how to live beyond one's regrets.
