If you are stirring the base, please bring a small chicken

Douglas 2022-04-21 09:02:03

I don't like lighthouses very much. The director deliberately used 4:3 black and white image quality and almost no dialogue, and after a while, he also adjusted the speed to 1.5 times the speed, the standard of 16 frames per second when the film was born. I still couldn't stand it, and I used a lot of green-back keying to endure it, but the grammar was still modern editing, and the language of the montage school was deliberately added. For example, in a voyeur, the first shot is A repairing the roof outside, the second shot A subjectively sees B on the bed in the room, and the third shot A is a close-up of his eyes. According to Eisenstein's theory, the next shot should have a reaction action to complete this set of psychological montages. As a result, the fourth scene changed, and the next scene began. Obviously modern editing ideas, but using the lens of the montage school. Under this kind of chaotic editing, the story goes through the stream of consciousness again, trying to learn the modern elaboration that last year in Marionbad and that the two were reluctant to stir up the foundation in a closed space for a long time. It can't be said that the director is pretending, because the pretending is at least half a bucket of water. This TM even fails the still life montage of the freshman of the film school, and he dares to show it. He didn't even have a chicken, and he ran out to stir up the base.

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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'.