Tintin is the little book of childhood, colorful cartoons, beautifully printed posters, small and delicate stamps, the Christmas special of The Economist, and the changing light and shadow on the big screen.
The moment the theater lights went out, much of the criticism from the media had been left behind. How familiar is the face of the painter at the beginning, this is the original author Hergé, and the protagonists in the comics hang behind him. Tintin, Captain Haddock, and the DuPont brothers all danced lively on the screen, and even the poker face of the housekeeper Nestor was extraordinarily vivid. Seeing the lifelike tiny details, the delicate and real expressions of the characters, and the breathtaking grand scenes, I can't help but sigh that the virtual technology has reached such a superb level. People who really love Tintin don't nitpick, we don't watch movies, but our childhood memories.
Twenty years later, Tintin still has a tender face, blond curly hair, a smart mind and agile skills. One day, I will go to Belgium to visit the Tintin Museum, to roam the Cheverny Castle in the Loire Valley of France, and to walk on the road that the boy walked.
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