The story is not engaging, nor is it particularly moving. Unable to figure out the feelings the movie wants to express, he seems to want to teach me indifference at one moment, and sympathy at another moment.
The director wanted to restore all his childhood memories through the film, so the film looked like a 20-page diary without a specific date in a notepad, trivial, emotionally unclear, and fast-paced. Just like when I didn't write a diary for a week, I had to get down the details I remembered as soon as possible, otherwise I wouldn't remember them. The motivation for me to watch the whole film is a kind of gossip consumption psychology and curiosity about the South American maids of that era.
Maybe this is the director's Oedipus complex? It's been a long time, but I still want to make a film to commemorate my childhood nanny and express my memories
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