Lonely Island

Adolfo 2022-04-21 09:02:03

Acting variety shows are flooding into disaster, and I don't know what they are talking about. Many viewers don't even know the threshold of art appreciation, and the choreographers of variety shows are still fooling them. How many times have I said it, film and television is a comprehensive art, and acting skills cannot exist independently. Only when the script and director are qualified can we talk about acting skills.

I have always disliked Cuan Fu ("The Imitation Game"), exaggerated and contrived; "Melrose" (2018) The male protagonist struggled in the shadow of childhood, indulged in the sea of ​​poison, and desperately saved himself, and Cuan Fu's acting skills were outstanding.

Robert Pattinson's hypocritical, hollow expression is disgusting—

In fact, he is a very good actor, and he shines brightly in the award season's hit "The Lighthouse":

Pattinson felt that he could resist a little bit because of his boss Dafoe's cowardice.

Dafoe was furious, and Pattinson immediately persuaded:

Unless you want to have your salary deducted, or be kicked out like Xian Keweizhi's "The Lighthouse Keeper," "a new wandering journey has unfolded before him..."

Even so, even if it is made difficult and tricked:

He still seeks his dignity: my name is Winslow, don't call me lad.

No matter how good an actor is, he must meet an excellent choreographer to have room to play.

Of course, Dafoe is not blindly tough. On boring days, he needs someone to chat and accompany him.

You can say that his cooking is terrible, but you can't say that his lobster is not good. This is his bottom line--

Please, you like my lobster! Say you like it, say it!

Winslow just didn't say it.

Dafoe's acting skills are perfect, begging and anger are like the stubbornness and fragility of people in the storm:

What a funny, poignant, sad, closed, hard, lonely environment, where a single spark can start a prairie fire!

Winslow freaks out, you're so hot, you make something delicious!

Let us hug each other for warmth, let us love and kill each other:

What secrets are hidden in the tower?

In order to get the key, Winslow even used a murderous intention, and the officer suddenly let a stinky fart to make him collapse:

Such a dark humor, the director can't figure it out!

Want to find a presence in me?

This, I think too, I have to prove that you are stinky shit!

I'm fed up with your laughter, your snoring, and your stinky farts!

The lighthouse standing proudly in the storm becomes a huge metaphor:

The lighthouse points the way to ships in the dark, but the tower keeper himself is swallowed by the darkness of the environment and humanity.

Learn to bark! Yell, bitch!

Wang Wang Wang...

This is a terrible parable of human nature:

What secrets can towers hold, too close to burn you.

Distance produces beauty, and people can't get too close.

Strindberg famously said, what could be scarier than a couple who hate each other?

The tower can guide the direction or separate the two:

Loneliness is the deadliest shot to this night: to dissolve loneliness, only approaching each other, destroying in the process of infinite approach...

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Extended Reading

The Lighthouse quotes

  • Thomas Wake: Keepin secrets eh?

    Ephraim Winslow: No sir

  • Thomas Wake: Yer fond of me lobster aint' ye? I seen it - yer fond of me lobster! Say it! Say it. Say it!

    Ephraim Winslow: I don't have to say nothin'.

    Thomas Wake: Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK!

    Thomas Wake: Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!

    Ephraim Winslow: Alright, have it your way. I like your cookin'.