The Comic Critic Review Doctor Zhivago

I was still in diapers when Doctor Zhivago was released, which allowed me to be caught up in the cultural wake it had on pop culture. I saw it many times growing up. Of course time moves on and the film, as wonderful as it is, went into viewing circulation less and less. I’d not thought of the movie for years when I was blindsided at my aunt’s funeral. She and her husband had had a special song they considered theirs and requested that it be played there. I loved my aunt dearly. She was an infectious hugger, full of laughter and joy. I realized at the first few notes of “Lara’s Theme” that we’d never seen a movie together. A song from Doctor Zhivago was the only clue I ever had that we’d seen and enjoyed the same film—and that the film held a special significance for her that I would never fully know. Both the sudden irony and my grief caused a mental short-circuit and left me vulnerable to one of the most embarrassing situations to befall anyone at a funeral—I got the giggles. I’m proud to say I caught myself and the only audible noise I made was an odd snort. If anyone looked, they would have seen tears streaming down my face. I hope they were viewed as a sign of grief, not the mortifying, painful strain of holding back the onslaught of giggles which threatened to ruin my sweet aunt’s funeral. Because I think she would have found that hilarious, I chuckle every time I hear “Lara’s Theme.”