On an ordinary Sunday afternoon, there are still no cinemas and cafes during the epidemic. Today, with heavy fog, Beijing has become Pyongyang. After chatting with friends about plans to go to New York in the morning, I decided to revisit Woody Allen's "Manhattan" after lunch.
The last time I watched it was the Beijing Film Festival in 2016, and in my impression it was a rambling but beautiful love story about two soul mates, but it was not like this when I watched it carefully. The Manhattan street scenes and Diane Keaton are still intoxicating, but Woody Allen's lead actor Isaac and even every character in the film are selfish and restless. Everyone makes choices based on how they feel, especially Isaac, a 42-year-old middle-aged man. The consolation for the little girlfriend, the unfeeling isolation in the middle, and the last humble prayer are actually all for himself. Perhaps most of the older men are such selfish creatures, useless for nothing but the charm that age brings them. As another friend said last night, people are lonely after all. As an independent individual, only by treating their own feelings faithfully can they learn to love others. So this selfishness is inevitable.
In the movie, Isaac says to a disturbed Mary, you have to give up your brain. Human exaggeration of brain power is the most ridiculous thing. I don't know since when, rational thinking seems to be a medicine to eliminate anxiety and fear. All problems must have solutions, and all insurmountable things must contain a reasonable reason. What about our true feelings? It seemed to be of the least importance, and that was a terrible thing for me in the past. Whether this is losing my self or building a better self, I can no longer judge. But I know that in the process, in order to reduce the pain, the so-called "rationality" to fight against the sensibility also weakened my perception of love. I once thought that a deep relationship is something that everyone will meet eventually, but it turns out that many people may not meet in their lifetime. It is worth exploring whether this kind of feeling really exists. After all, no one can fully understand another person. The fetters and entanglements between us may all stem from misreading each other.
But even so, I still hope that in this life I can sit under that bridge with someone and talk all night until I see the light of morning light up the city.
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