Just talk about the feeling that the film brings to me, yes, it is moving, all kinds of demonstrations, like a weapon of belief against a real weapon, powerless to make people sad, remove the background of the times, today’s Why don’t we use the power of restraining chickens to boast about how disappointing society this society is, that it’s dark and unfair, and some people stand up and shout, but with such a meager power, will someone really persist for 10 years and 20 years? What many people see is the tears that came from the moment the system changed, followed by all kinds of praise. The past is history, remembering
why we fought, or our world is peaceful, and there is no need to fight, like me. Kind of state: wars, diseases, and hunger on the news, it’s nothing if you read them. But the blood of idealism still makes people say to themselves when they see these things: What must you do. But I am still an ordinary person, and I usually only write film reviews. Generally, I will be moved easily by watching the next movie.
Because of studying liberal arts, I have more knowledge of history and politics, and I often pay attention to this kind of issues, about American democracy, in a world of stewardship. The detailed and combined style is slowly presented, the most profound scene: the father is obediently serving in the White House, the white people are glamorous, and on the other side, the son sits in a segregated restaurant, enduring beatings and torture. For the same black people, in order to equal rights, the younger generation seems to be more able to do some turbulent and promoted actions. The beating and scolding of the restaurant appeared in the background of my father’s appearance, and I felt ironic and helpless. This deep-rooted dedication eventually led to a break between father and son. "it's breaking the law" father often said such things, but if this law is wrong, it’s not. To be fair, it should be broken.
In the end, the old father stood on the same line as the son. After misunderstanding for more than 10 years, wrinkles climbed onto their faces, and he was no longer a reckless and submissive father in adolescence. The two-faced father tore off the mask of survival, walked into the protest team, and used his rights to gain more democratic rights.
There have been scenes with tears in my eyes many times. I am always moved by this heroism. The disappointed faces of my father and mother, witnessing the blacks finally gaining the same power as the whites, and my father hearing the president’s actions against blacks. The unfair evaluation and policy of the scene when the eye sockets are moist. These can arouse pity in my heart.
You remember that on the day Mandela passed away, his heart sank to the bottom, and there was a wave of loss: there is no fighter in this world, there is no hero who has used faith as a weapon to fight for several years, he has become history, and he has become as human as Gandhi. Remember the history. Then people of our age will remember history, just remember.
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