The road of life is getting narrower and narrower

I bought this disc in my freshman year and finally finished it when I was about to finish my sophomore year. I remembered that the three of them made an appointment to go to Medog for a graduation trip before graduating from high school, and went out of the Sichuan Basin to study in Beijing together. The result was a bit of an angry Internet cafe, a sad major campus after the rain, and a narrow sixteen road. Stairs, for the first time in my life, I hugged and cried in front of the school motto, with a clear sense of relief and exhausted happiness in my heart. Two years later, we blamed the failure of the appointment on the brain-damaged elements of Tibet independence. In the political class, we used six knowledge points to illustrate the painful losses caused by the separatist activities to the people on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. Also true. Two years later, I finally decided to do the journey alone, and the reasons were very different. I no longer wanted to bring a camera, a laptop, a few bank cards, and two brothers. One night, I suddenly wanted to watch this movie. I didn't have any curiosity about the content. I just wanted to feel the atmosphere.
Compared with ordinary road films, it is not a brilliant work. Of course, this is also limited by the subject itself. The biography of the documentary nature, especially the biography for others, will always make the author look a little embarrassed. The imagination and delicate brushstrokes of the novel must be guarded against excessive exaggeration, which would seem bizarre and unworthy of the name even for a fanatical admirer of the biographical figure, not to mention the author himself must be one of the homages. So abandoning those stream-of-consciousness techniques and post-production techniques, the author is just telling the story honestly. But there is a saying that storytelling is the most powerful.
Ordinary road film imagery and shooting perspective, most of the first half of the pictures are the open plains or splendid mountains in Latin America, and the scenery is like the monotonous repetition of weeds on the grasslands along the road, which is magnificent and beautiful. From a distance, two people are riding a bike through it. Before the main props that appeared as the title of the film, the motorcycle fell apart, it basically showed the beautiful landscape and customs of Latin America. Latin America is almost the last mystical land in the hearts of all today's goofy romantics, and its climate breeds a little of what Borges called "tropical melancholy" (although from the strictest geography). From an angle, the equator only passes through its shorter corner), wet clothes, and hammocks. There is a passage in One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is about the first time that Arcadio, the eldest son of the Buendia family, was invited by the family servant, a woman who could help people with fortune-telling using cards, and went to find her in the dark at night. The door was opened as agreed, and Arcadio slowly felt inside. In the darkness, in front of him, the hammocks of the woman's brothers were like spider webs, before reaching the destination promised by Biela. , this scene in the dark has forever left a memory in the heart of the young Arcadio. There are also special ways of shaking the vocal cords and using the nasal sounds of the residents of Latin America. When expressing their feelings, they emit a long and exaggerated resonance inside their vocal cords and nose. The sincere expressions on their arms, shoulders and faces make people feel pity and helplessness, like watching a Dumb and ignorant, you watched the little liar he grew up with.
By the second half of the film, the tone started to get serious. Instead of the mountains and endless plains in the distance, the audience begins to tour the land from behind the protagonist, through the gap between their necks and heads. Waves of people appeared and disappeared, but they didn't stop there. A female worker who has been serving dishes in a restaurant for a month is dying of asthma, sitting on a pile of white stones waiting for a miner to be accused of boarding a truck, a big river separates two worlds, two people who have left their homes People ask "Then why did you leave home?" We are just wandering for wandering's sake, which sounds a little shameless.
I don't know how many people in this world are dreaming about going out and wandering, and they know very little about the process and results before setting out. It's just that this life is lived, and there are only a little sadness, a little nostalgia, and a little bit of a rule that everyone can figure out, and there are so many things left, and you can guess the result right at the beginning. . Gained, dissatisfied, lost, and annoyed. You're too lazy to pretend to make these shitty choices. One day you suddenly realize that I just fucking care about myself too much. So you go out and wander, not knowing what will happen, but you know there will always be something other than a patio cover that will come and give you an answer.
What exactly do I want? After cutting off his jacket, he was going to swim across the big river to celebrate his birthday in the opposite leprosy village. He jumped, had asthma, and nearly died, but he finally arrived. That's it. I need to be stubborn about something sincere and stupid, to gather courage and earn respect. There is so much injustice in the world, I mean, when so many white teens with pimples on their faces follow Che into the tropical jungles of Latin America, they must be less concerned about acne, pimples, waistlines and weight off. "Like most intellectuals, Che is more of a tactic of looking at the long-term and ignoring the reality." Perhaps it is. But he will forever be worshipped as an idol for young people.
Are we too narrow-minded, are our decisions too stubborn, maybe yes.

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