My husband and I saw HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE at the theater last night.
Things were going well enough. I was tired--we went in the late evening--but the movie was keeping my attention. The truth is, I haven't read HBP since it first came out four years ago. I remember the major events, but the rest was foggy. It helped; I probably enjoyed this one more than any other Harry Potter movie because I couldn't make educated comparisons. (FYI: I've never been a fan of the movies.)
Anyway, there came a point near the end of the film. A big confrontation. A young boy--who I'm guessing to be around age eight or so--was sitting a few seats from me. He whispered to his mother, "Is Dumbledore going to die?"
She said, "Shhh."
He asked again, frantic this time. "Mom, is he going to die?"
And then, not too much later, it happened.
For the rest of the movie--I honestly don't know how long it was, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes?--the boy was crying. He was all curled up on the seat and his mom was hugging him. (This theater has the arm rests that can be pushed up.) He was stifling his sobs, so most of what I heard was just sniffing and occasional whimpering, but it was obvious that he was just devastated.
Afterward, when the credits started, I watched him leave with his parents. He was wearing a sweatshirt and had the hood pulled low over his eyes. My husband turned to me and said, "That poor kid! He was making me cry!"
Well, that made two of us. I mean, sure, that part of the movie was sad and all, but I'd already known it was coming. I forget that there are people who don't read the books, who don't know all the major twists.