So, if I think about where to start, I must be thinking too much. This is a divine drama, it should be indescribable. But I love His Majesty the Pope so much... I want to repent to you, I am guilty! ...No, it was the director and the screenwriter who were to blame! He shoots you naked, he teaches you to pray underwater, he offers so many uniform temptations, he gives you ambiguous soft light, what provocative music he plays, he makes you say lines full of power and beauty, He wants to canonize you! Holy Father, it's all this bad guy who leads me to sin!
Holy Father, I am fascinated by everything about the Vatican, its buildings, its gardens, its wonderful sculptures and sacred frescoes. Beyond that, Holy Father, I'm especially fascinated by...the Vatican priests. I imagine the feeling of living in the Apostolic Palace specially built in a depressing and disturbing way, walking under the magnificent zenith of the Sistine and before the Last Judgment, standing on the high balcony facing hundreds of years ago Just the feeling of the large square of St. Peter's tomb, the feeling of walking through the garden with fountains, pools, streams and various icons. I imagine how it feels when the breeze is blowing on you, the sun is shining on you, the shadows are covering you...you always feel better with Italy.
Holy Father, I am infatuated with your finery, your robes, your hat, your shoes, your sweater, your swimming trunks. The embroidered and jeweled robes like six blankets, the triple crown made of metal jacks, the red shoes with the embroidered crucifix... Sexy and you know it. I love the scene where you are wearing sunglasses and wearing white fur on your shoulders and striding to the music. It is a strange fusion of imperial demeanor and rock and roll temperament. And the red clothes of Africa - the red silk satin shines on you under the scorching sun, so beautiful and charming. Of course, there are also white uniforms. I prefer the plain version without patterns. A simple cross is enough to bring out the deep and quiet beauty. Oh and your rings, Father, I want to kiss your rings too...
Holy Father, I am infatuated with your beautiful blue eyes and soft, round lips, and your incredible dazzling beauty that is far more handsome than Jesus. Once I scoffed at Marguerite Duras' claim that she prefers a more weathered and battered face. I was wrong, Holy Father, because in you this sentence holds true. I don't turn a blind eye to your eye bags, wrinkles, and belly, but I will not miss the fascinated smile you occasionally see a female believer and her husband doing the conjugal salute, your sigh and low gesture when you resist temptation, The childlike excitement and panic you look forward to as a parent, all your demanding demands and the certainty with which you articulate your standards of goodness, all your reflections on the holy signs of Blessed Juanna... It is your thoughts, Holy Father, that make you beautiful beyond time out of the sky. I'm even obsessed with the way you smoke, Father, presumably because the smoke doesn't cross the screen to poison me.
Holy Father, I am fascinated by your silky voice and the fragrant and fragrant language that shimmers from it. I wish it could speak that singing Italian, it must be beautiful. If I speak with an American accent, for the sake of the Holy Father, I will put up with it. Aside from the aphorism for rejecting temptation, what I love most is your enthronement instruction to the cardinals in the Sistine Chapel. Really, I think what you're saying is the truth, absolutely correct. Only the church and YOU, possess the charisma of truth! I actually wish I was in the hall, shivering and feeling your aura. Also, your prayers for Dussolier, your sad, beautiful and heartfelt eulogy, are very touching. I'm sure it would be just as touching to pay tribute even in clothes. Of course, your love letters are also first-class American writing. You are truly a poet.
Finally, Father, I am fascinated by the path you have walked, imagining it full of thorns and dust. How did you escape the clutches of the Kurtwells in your youthful years of upside-down beauty? How do you face the worldly joys that Dussolier once faced? I know that it is through that narrow and extremely uncomfortable door that you have passed through the long cold and dark that you have the aura you have today. But how distressed I am, Holy Father, you are so pure and ascetic! How I wish someone could hug you and comfort the part of your heart that is still at seven, saying that your mother loves you very, very much and how painful it is to leave you. Compared to a saint, I would rather, you are just a devil who plays with ministers, humiliates politicians, and crushes heretics! Because Holy Father, your tears... Heartbreak... Incapable of withstanding the heartbreak... Occasionally, you can also think of the predecessors of the Borgia family, and think of the extraordinary corruption of the glorious era with the extraordinary corruption Church, it will make you smile. So Father, you don't need to do better. I no longer know what miracle to wish for.
(Above, I borrowed the lines from the play many times, so I will not point them out one by one. The lines are too beautiful, the magic sound is lingering, and there is nowhere to escape.)
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