This is 42 seconds long and still makes me cry every time I watch it.

There is also a higher-resolution quicktime version at the filmmaker’s website, if you prefer.

The kind of art that used to get me choked up was always heroic fiction: stuff about vast, worldchanging events or misunderstood geniuses or literal superheroes. That’s changed. Now it’s things like this film, or Synechdoche New York — movies about normality and memory and aging and death.

I guess this is what they mean by “midlife,” isn’t it?