At the end of the sixth season, when the 35-year-old Carrie was abandoned by an old Russian guy and left on the streets of Paris, I knew that this was actually the true face and true portrayal of life. But the screenwriter had to let Big make a dramatic airborne landing at the Louvre, which forced a Hollywood ending. In fact, she herself may be even more unbelievable than the audience.
Since the film version after that is an overly realistic spring and autumn brushwork, it must continue to be idealistic. Big and Carrie, the two extremist selfish ghosts, have persisted for two years and haven't broken up, and they have to hold a grand wedding in a high-profile manner. Even my yellow-haired girl in my early 20s looks stupid. So Big ran away naturally, because he felt it was embarrassing to be seen in the newspaper for the third time. Carrie beat the groom in the street like a shrew at the vegetable market, and then went south to Mexico with a few follow-up girlfriends. Go to relax. The ending of the film is of course the same as always in Hollywood. Big has returned to Carrie, but Samantha broke up with the increasingly popular star boyfriend. The reason is that I love you, but I love me more. You can hardly imagine a fifty-year-old. A woman will break up because her boyfriend is busy at work and fail to pay the rations in time, but she is the only Samantha in the universe, which is logical.
Even if it is an ideal, it should end here, because we always look forward to perfection and completeness, but we are not satisfied with the monotonous and impeccable harmony. The stability of the three Carrie and the suspense of Samantha are just the perfect end to these New York beauties. Going down is the long and desolate andante cutscenes after the excercises, bleak and desolate. I only love to watch the twists and turns of their search for love, thrilling, full of joy and extremely real, because any abnormality and embarrassment have to be encountered by them-not lifting, cheating, addictive, bisexual Sadistic, voyeuristic, model-lovers who love to play 3P, have infectious diseases, hate *life, talk endlessly with one mouth, love to take pornographic photos... It's rare for them to be strong and brave to live. Charlotte said with tears, "I started dating when I was fifteen years old. I have been exhausted for 20 years. Why doesn't my mr right show up yet?" Samantha held a quarter of a hot dog sausage to describe one of her appointments. What the boyfriend said, but still insist on staying with him. Carrie sent her to the door to have an affair with Mr Big, who abandoned her to marry a supermodel. Miranda gave birth to the child she and her ex-boyfriend had "accidentally" made. The endings of Charlotte and Miranda are both normal and realistic. Beautiful women accompany reckless sleep, the most ordinary marriage, and seemingly mediocre partners are the most stable and longest. The idealized carrie and the demonized Samantha represent the two most secret extremes of a woman, the romantic love animal and the sweet lust. So Carrie’s task is to ignore her chrysanthemum-shaped crow's feet and nearly half a hundred of elderly children who act like coquetry and play coquettishly, love to keep fresh, and Samantha challenges the limit of human hormones. At the age of menopause, she pretends that she is still in menopause. Seventy-two changes in Tsai.
Therefore, when the golden wind and jade dew meet and become the color of the twilight, when the gorgeous round dance ends, the gorgeous balloons are released, and the poor Mr Big has been busy all day wanting to go home to have a hot meal and watch TV, Carrie. Unexpectedly, the long face was pulled down. Honey, let's go to the party~ Do you love me or not~ You are not allowed to watch TV if you love me! If you love me, then go to the party with me~ I immediately sympathize with big, a bad guy who has been scolded thousands of times by me. The bad guys have their own bad guys, but the sins you made in the first half of your life won't be so miserable now, marry you. An auntie Ma Lian who has changed her way to torture her husband all day without making a child, making no money, not earning more than 40 meals. Even the TV is not allowed to watch the takeaway and not to eat. As a result, I angrily ran to Arabia to find my ex-boyfriend to fool around. I know that the screenwriter is still struggling to continue the topic of feminism and gender, but we must all understand what is the mainstream of life for a woman in her forties and fifties. The growth of women, along with changes in circumstances, mood and hormones, gradually returns from self to family, from sensibility to rationality, and from love to responsibility. I don't believe that there is a woman who is not confused about her husband who has been married for three years, and asks how much you love me without asking for food and clothing. Even me, in the past few years of watching Sex and the City, I have changed from a literary and artistic young woman who loves life and death to a reserve housewife who cooks a good dish, reliable and reliable at any time, and can serve the person I love. Washing and cooking, watching him go to work neat and tidy, giving birth and educating healthy and lively children, is the greatest happiness of an ordinary woman. We live in this world and have experienced many years of self-worth pursuit. It is not an unimaginable life that is earth-shattering, but in the end we found that it is not easy to be a mortal and live well. What can we expect more?
When I first saw it, I didn't think it was. Afterwards, I discovered that Sex and the City 2 had very powerfully diluted the influence of this series on me. Because it was too fake, I finally had a play. I have always thought that no matter how bad the sequel is, as long as I can see a bunch of people waiting for reunion, it will be no hesitate. Unfortunately, it is counterproductive. This is still a play, and it has a bleak and blunt ending, which seems to be ruthless. The slap that awoke me from my dream, buzzing reminded me that those good memories were just a pillow of yellow beams.
I have been wondering whether there is a kind of firework that will suddenly disappear when it is in full bloom, and is there a kind of love that will disappear in smoke when it is raging? If so, there is no need to repeat the cliche at the end of every fairy tale that the prince and princess have lived a happy life from then on until we gradually believe it. If love really can't keep its original appearance, I would rather let it leave richly in the noisy cheers than turn my back and pretend that I can't see its bleakness. If I had a choice, I would rather not know the later story and let them freeze the flashy kiss in front of the Louvre forever. This gave me reason to believe and the courage to hold the hand of the ordinary lover around me and face the boundlessness. Go on in the future.
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