A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Best Years of Our Lives

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn is a very somber and bittersweet story. It is very play-like in so many ways as the locations are minimal, and the plot is pushed by characters’ dialogues. But there is so much symbolism hidden within each dialogue, and they all seem to come from a personal place to the author. Moments when Grandma told them about how in the country, the child can grow to be in a better position than the parent, or when the teacher explains that we tell the truth and write lies to create stories are such a poetic use of words. It all contributes to the arc for Francie, making it a wonderful film to watch.

I will always have a personal place for The Best Years of Our Lives. We talk about making characters being relatable, and I relate to Fred Derry so much because that was my life after I left the military. I was an officer. I was a nuclear missile operator, and I was in charge of the most powerful weapons in the world. The bars on my shoulder gave me respect by many enlisted, some twice my age. Yet, when I got out, I was nothing. There wasn’t a civilian equivalent to a missile operator, as there isn’t one for a bomb operator. Fred was lost, put into a position lower than life itself, and he couldn’t handle life. It came to the point that when he was in the graveyard, he was junk, garbage just like the demilitarized plane. I was lost too. I wasn’t accepted anywhere, and had to learn to pick myself up. This film helped my life in so many ways, and it is why I will constantly cry whenever I think about this film. Because the best films are the ones that makes you cry.