I cry during movies. Period. Even if the story playing out on screen seems unworthy of my tears, I find a reason to cry. So when a movie comes along that is deserving of an outpouring of emotions, I rejoice because I won’t be the only one in the theater bawling their eyes out. These instances aren’t often, so in August when I went to see The Help, a touching movie about the relationships between black maids and the white women they work for, it was wonderful to not be the only one sniffling by the end of the first hour.

   Two years ago, when I read Kathryn Stockett’s novel, The Help, I was absolutely blown away by the pure and cutting emotions on its pages and the subtle way Stockett crafted a truly beautiful southern saga. (I cried when I read the book too.) When I heard that The Help was being made into a movie, I had to see it. And I was not disappointed.

   Set in Mississippiduring the beginning of the civil rights movement, The Help follows Skeeter Phelan, a recent college graduate returning to her hometown with dreams of becoming a writer inNew York City. Radically different from her society women friends who all have husbands, young children and black maids, Skeeter gets the idea to interview the maids of the town’s families, otherwise termed “the help.”

   One courageous maid, Aibileen is the first to open up to Skeeter, bringing her best friend, Minnie, along, and the rest is history. The three, with the help of many other brave maids, piece together a cutting and scandalous novel exposing the true relationships between the women, black and white, of the South.

   First let me fangirl over the impeccable casting of all the parts from Emma Stone as Skeeter, a gangly young woman yearning to be a “real” novelist to Viola Davis as Aibileen, the strong, silent maid standing behind their controversial project to Octavia Spencer as Minnie, the comic relief and a free-wheelin’ force of nature in sensible shoes, and last but not least, the perfectly played suburban villain of Hilly Holbrook by Dallas Bryce Howard. And don’t forget Allison Janney as Skeeter’s mother, Charlotte, a prim and proper lady with hidden mama-bear fierceness. It was a parade of some of my favorite actresses across the screen and I fell madly in love.

   So of course the dreamy setting of the smallMississippitown was nice. Of course the gentleman friend that Skeeter makes looked nice in a greasy wifebeater way. Of course the off kilter relationship between Skeeter and her mother and its resolution made for a touching sub-plot. And of course the empowering battle Skeeter, Aibileen and Minnie fight against white bigotry in the South with their controversial project brought the movie to another level.

   The best thing about The Help for me remains the wonderful reflection of Stockett’s original novel and the overall atmosphere she created from her personal experience of growing up in the South and being cared for by a black maid. And the parallels she drew between the civil rights movement, southern history and the daily life of black and white women in 1950s Mississippi are clearly displayed on the screen, infusing The Help with a whole other layer of meaning, which basically means more for me to cry over, and that’s always nice.

   Now I know all my talk of emotions and crying may turn some people against The Help before they have ever even seen it, but it is definitely not all tears and melting hearts. The humor that is slipped into the most serious of moments is remarkable and I almost fell off my seat onto the popcorn kernels underneath my feet when Minnie delivers an especially famous “chocolate” pie to Hilly. But you’ll have to see the movie to find out just what exactly makes this one pie more famous than anything she’s ever made before.

   I really can’t say enough about The Help except that I haven’t enjoyed a movie more all summer, and the combination of pure humanity, inspiring journeys and humor was as refreshing and wonderful as a porch swing and a glass of iced tea on a hot southern summer day.