Even though the third is (arguably) ~bigger and better~ (pun so intended) than the others, I’d pick the first, for a multitude of reasons. It’s got a certain air of magic about it, being the original of the trilogy; it doesn’t make me cry anywhere near as much as the last one does (which can only be a good thing for my mental health); and—most importantly—there’s not an ounce of conflict between the Evans twins—they’re super cute, super sassy and so in sync—and that’s just how I like it.
LANCELOT. My sweet, sweet, selfless knight.
Traveling back to California in his place, across country, after our last stadium show, Frank didn’t want to sleep. It was late at night. He thought everyone else was asleep. I watched him. He went to the back of the plane and quietly retrieved the snack food from the galley. He got down on his hands and knees and surreptitiously stuffed everyone’s shoes with popcorn, peanuts, jelly beans, gumdrops, crackers, and nuts.
Frank Sinatra, my friend, legend, and glorious survivor, would do anything to have some fun.”