If I had to choose one movie to represent my childhood, I would choose "Night at the Museum". It's not the first movie I've seen - it's "Little Rat" bouncing around on screen. But it was the first one that I remembered clearly in my mind. It was a big dream that ended in reality, but was replayed over and over again in my heart. When I was eight years old at the time, on the way home from the theater, I decided that it was "the best movie to watch" and solemnly crowned it with children's words.
This "Museum of Natural History" came quietly on an unremarkable evening eight years ago, and has been relentlessly coloring my dreams ever since. The moment the prelude sounded, it almost took me into a journey of awe of the museum as a child. Watching the villain use a gun, arrow and rope cart, the Huns wield a big knife and axe, the masked warrior bayonet stood in front of the muzzle, and even animals from all walks of life howled and howled, each displayed under the viewing lights. With a mane full of enthusiasm and wildness, my eyes seemed to be sucked into the screen, greedily capturing this exhilarating and thrilling melee; Teddy was resolute and humorous, and every now and then a bright smile arched over the red blush. On his face, I read a kind of unfading youth from his wrinkles; the audience burst into laughter at the sight of the muttered version of the Easter stone statue or the mischievous mischievous monkey; An Indian woman with sad eyes and a strong and intelligent heart, her gaze always fills my heart with complicated feelings. Of course, when the pharaoh struggled and tore up from the golden coffin, the vague fear in his heart was indeed undeniable, but the next second under his hood was a handsome young man with the smell of ancient Egyptian sand and sunshine. The face innocently introduced his resume of learning English in Cambridge, and rolled up everyone's heart with relaxed and relieved laughter. In this movie, even the "villains" are very simple: big dinosaurs will lie on the ground wagging their tails and arching their waists just to play the game of chasing bones. He is the best at fighting, killing and killing countless people, but it also has a sad childhood shadow; the old security guard laughed at the protagonist, grabbed the golden tablet and ran away, and the complacent expression on his face when he was in charge of the car and the horse made people believe that he too. Was a child with a heroic dream (really echoed in the third installment).
Little Ben Stiller's "son" was such a cute little curly hair, a boy who rode on a dinosaur skeleton and traveled around New York City at night. He probably had the most prosperous childhood in the world. The beauty and value of his childhood not only came from the full company of a large group of funny and rare "exhibits", but also from the father, who was an unknown security guard who dared to challenge the museum's senior management and insisted on his own Dreams and principles, worry about and work hard for the safety of all exhibits, and try their best to preserve a crystal clear childlike innocence in this bustling and flashy era. This father has no money or power, and he can't even keep his own wife, but he dances boldly in the deep night in the museum in the center of the city, laughing and merging with all the great people and precious art of the past and present. He and President Roosevelt went on a horse-riding parade, mediated the conflict between the Roman emperor and the western cowboy, and helped the savage find the throbbing flames in a second... All the most incredible and glorious things in the world came together in such a small role. in front of. In fact, there is no need to be puzzled, because even God only appears in front of those who believe in him. When this ordinary museum security guard repeated to his son and female docent that "at night, all exhibits will come back to life" over and over again, he was like the loneliest Peter Pan, saving the endangered childhood of all people on earth in one thought.
Eight years have been like a dream, and to this day I still remember the joke my dad made before the lights went out that night, saying that he would dream of roaming around on a big dinosaur skeleton. But this time, when I walked out of the theater, the evening wind blew my nose a little sore, and the days of my childhood seemed to come back to my eyes again. crowded. Time flies by inexorably. I can remember clearly the scores and rankings of every exam recently. Only the word "childhood" faded into the vaguest back in my memory. Those old characters who were silly and funny in the scene, you are all still there, but I have changed. I climbed the ladder of knowledge and education, filling my bag of goals and expectations, while unconsciously throwing away other things that cannot be measured in money or points. Dear childhood, you are the most precious treasure in this barren world, the land where all love, kindness, joy and freedom first grow. You are the most passionate, happy, and indelible period of life. At the root of all creativity and achievement is the long-forgotten homeland common to all greats and mortals. You are the living exhibits and jumping lights in the museum, the initial curiosity and quest for knowledge, the joy and sadness of the clear distinction between good and evil. Eight years later, everything is still singing and dancing, but we have walked out of that Eden-like hometown. ——Just like at the end of the movie, the hall has become a happy dance field for eight years, only the dim new morning outside the hall illuminates the familiar face with a grinning smile.
We all have to grow up. We all have to leave Neverland and go to other strange and dangerous places. There are too many thorns on the road, and it is too easy to forget the unbridled smile of the past.
But there are still some things to forget.
The savages, emperors, monkeys, and presidents who are singing every night or silent every night will remember the man who had white silk in his hair but still tried his best to run, just as he would keep those fresh and lively times in his heart, just like We are the same as our childhood that was too short, too late to remember, too profligate, too unreliable, too beautiful to be true, but so definite. They met each other and then left, but silently made a sentence that they would never forget each other. The museum is always there, and we can always come back.
Then we will not be rushing blindly to the Holy Grail. Our life will be a great adventure "for monkeys".
--------------------- I would like to write this article to our childhood that has long passed but will never die. ---------------
Also: RIP, Robin Williams. Heaven is probably what a museum looks like.
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