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I was listening to Tom Hanks' Desert Island Discs on the bus this week when I realised I was in no way emotionally prepared for it. This should not have been surprising, of course, since Desert Island Discs, particularly with Kirsty in charge, has a formula that helps get beneath the skin of its guests like no other interview programme. Hanks is typically great from the off, inevitably, but if you want to find the moment that killed me, it's around the 24 minute mark on the podcast, just after the theme from 2001 has played. Kirsty asks a gently probing question about Hanks' challenging childhood experiences, and after a slightly strangled "Ahhhh," there's a surprisingly long pause. Has the feed cut out? No. Because then Hanks asks, "What have you done to me?" and although he's chuckling it's clear that he's also crying. Then, through the snotty nose of the weeper, comes the line that floored me. "I've put far too much thought into this list."This, right here, is not only what makes Desert Island Discs great. It's what makes Tom Hanks great. The man is basically the biggest movie star in the world. He has four movies out this year, and all of them, I suspect, will contain something of magic. Also, as a 37 year old, I'm willing to admit that I spend most of my time under the illusion that either Harrison Ford or Hanks is my dad in some strange spectral way. He's the dad of my generation, and yet, when asked to come on a BBC radio show, he takes it sufficiently seriously that he puts "far too much thought" into the list of records he is asked to choose, records that will travel with him to the desert island he has been sent to, a place much like the desert island he is sent to in Cast Away, which is Zemeckis and Hanks, and thus money in the bank as far as I am concerned.
When I got off the bus, I felt even closer to Hanks than I did before, which is already alarmingly close, as you might have gathered. I was also struck by his choice of an item to take with him to the island: a Hermes 3000 typewriter. I've known for years that Hanks loves typewriters. In a New Yorker profile from the 1990s, I think he was trying to track down a Skywriter or somesuch, a specially designed machine that would fit snugly into the folding tray of a 1950s commuter flight seat. Then, a few years back, some fans sent him a 1934 Smith Corona when they asked him to come on their podcast, and he typed them a lovely note on it in reply. A note from Hanks! Or Hanx, rather, as he signs his Tweets, many of which - Hanx really is the best - revolve around items he has found on the street and wants to get back to their owners. You know the lone glove you always get propped on one of the railings outside of a cemetery? Hanx is there for that glove.
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