‘You Got That, Chief?’: A Greater
Maguire is rough and profane, intelligent and caring, and infinitely deeper than anyone would ever give him credit for which really sums up this fair city, doesn t it? He s Boston manifested, wrapped in an aging sweater and faded Red Sox cap. Give him a statue on the Common.
I came to another realization as I rewatched the movie last night Good Will Hunting is a film that only gets better every time you watch it. It s a film full of wonderful scenes, great, lovely dialogue that could only have been written by two super-talented kids who didn t know how to do anything else. Scenes that seem to have vanished from multiplexes these days.
Everyone s got their favorite one. Many will say it s the tear-down of that yuppie in the bar. Others will point, rightfully, to that wonderfully-penned monologue on the bench. Or Affleck s hilarious sock-baring job interview posing as Damon. Or Ben s You Owe it to Me speech at the job site (anyone who ever doubted Affleck s talent should have been forced to watch, and rewatch, that scene for all eternity). Or It s not your fault. Or that staggeringly great ending, with Williams Son of a bitch, he stole my line echoing out as Elliott Smith s Miss Misery begins.
For a lot of Bostonians and New Englanders, though, I m sure their favorite scene comes much earlier, as Will and Sean have their first big breakthrough while bonding over the latter s experience before Game Six of the 1975 World Series. Every beer-fueled Bostonian s had this type of encounter, using those kind of deliriously happy sporting triumphs to bond with fathers and sons or mothers or daughters or friends or complete strangers. It always means something deeper, you know.
Damon and Affleck realized that these shared bits of athletic joy are how many New Englanders communicate how much we really care for each other, and Williams jumping around like a madman, joyously waving his arms in the air in a Fisk impression knows exactly what they meant to do. Maguire spins his Game Six experience into a game-changing life lesson for his patient. As the story progresses, Williams character turns to Damon, grinning and reveals he skipped attending the historic game to talk to his future wife, I had to go see about a girl. He expands on the anecdote, delivering some hard truth to the lovelorn Will. You re not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you ve met, she s not perfect either, he says. But the question is whether or not you re perfect for each other.
Then, of course, Damon grins. Would have been nice to see that game, though? he says, and Williams gives him another smile. I didn t know Pudge was going to hit a homer, he replies, chuckling.
Exactly what any Bostonian would say.
Rest easy, Robin. We ll miss you.