Some lines in memory are thrilling. Princess Margo, who became a political victim in "Queen Margo", said: "We will never show our feelings, because that will only bring war and destruction." It turns out that Anne's adventure in "Roman Holiday" is just a fairy tale . In "Days Above the Clouds", Sophie Marceau played the girl who killed her father, and said slowly to the stranger in the afternoon of spring day: "I stabbed him twelve times, I counted it clearly, twelve times." The number shuddered the bald director.
"The Long Engagement" is a movie I watched recently. The music at the end seems to have grown out of that warm and golden garden. It is soft and bright, symbolizing the stability of the world. The narration drifts through the music - she sits in the chair, crosses her legs, looks at him, and in the warm sun, in the gentle air, Mathil looks at him, at him, at him... … At that moment, my eyes shed tears, he went through nine deaths and finally lost his memory, and returned to her without a shadow of war, and her face finally reappeared at the end of the film. Smile, but at that time, it was shy and innocent like an angel, and now, it is mixed with helplessness, sentimentality, about war and fate, and the happiness that was lost and found after a long journey.
Some people say: The biggest feature of this film is the high degree of unity and conflict of narrative and content. The beauty of women, the beauty of love, the beauty of pictures, the beauty of music, and the madness and ugliness of war form a strong tension, far exceeding other war-themed films, especially the United States. The movie is an epic movie.
Maybe it's because the qualifications are not enough, the subtitles on the DVD are not very synchronized, and I didn't fully understand the complex plot and many characters, but there are still some things that keep me watching. Mathil's face always had a strange and peaceful expression, a childlike and innocent face, but with stubborn facial features, the layers of mist in her eyes, intertwined into a kind of sadness that was too heavy for a twenty-year-old, When facing people who don't trust him, the corners of his mouth always draw a faint mocking line, as if he can see everything.
She used this expression on countless occasions, calling in a telephone booth, meditating in a car, looking for a strange woman who had some connection with her in a strange city, and struggling to get a file in a shaking wheelchair in the archives... ... She calmly suppressed the countless waves in her heart.
All because she once dragged her injured leg on the golden field with this expression and ran recklessly, and then she saw the car. From then on, the curse of fate sounded in an instant, and the faithful lover is in the world. Somewhere alive, must be alive.
From time to time in Mathil's search, the film turns to gray war scenes and a boy's first love, the most romantic first love I've ever seen, or the tones of an oil painting at dusk. As if in war, Mathil leaned on the ancient lighthouse, half-lying, with her face facing the sky, smiling non-stop, the laughter that contained infinite vitality like waves. And her beloved Manet, a young man with a clean smile and a handsome face who is afraid of all gunfire, is religiously carving the three letters MMM (Manet loves Mathilde) on the rock under the lighthouse.
In every country on earth, there must have been such a picture, a happy boy or girl, engraved two people's names on a tree or a pillar or every possible place, connected by any symbol of love . Yes, this is the oldest oath, but don't say it's ridiculous, love can't be unforgettable, there can be no oath. Maybe they will be scattered in unknown corners of each other in the future, but her romantic and persistent nature in her bones will believe that it will eventually end with the symbols of the past, no matter whether it is a comedy or a tragedy. The world is sinister, love never dies.
Postscript: French women are sad and decisive. Maybe this is just an element unique to European art films, not the commonality of most French women in reality. But I, who have never been to that beautiful country, still like to equate them with them in my imagination, because I love those legends in the rotation of light and shadow. They are different from the playful and pleasant American sweethearts, different from the forbearance of Asian women like national fables, and even more different from the funny and exaggerated Hong Kong MM. They are the purest women.
Whether it is Madame Bovary, who fantasized about love in poor and mediocre days, or Queen Mary who collected countless gorgeous hats but lost her head, they are all birds of grace and wildness, flying in the ancient clock tower and In the twilight of twilight, the elements of romance and persistence in blood are innate, but they often only brew tragedy.
December 2004
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