It was a frantic, chaotic, hurtful, desperate, gushing love.
At the age of sixteen, his youthful, flamboyant, and high-spirited look was written on his face, and there was an indescribably arbitrary beauty. Soft blond hair, fair skin, and those clear blue eyes are breathtakingly beautiful. His feet stomping on the ground happily and forcefully, and the corner of the windbreaker swayed in the wind, his eyes were filled with arrogance. He behaved grotesquely, rudely, like a child who had never been restrained. He stood naked in the cramped attic and smashed his clothes one by one on Verlaine who was walking down the street; at a dinner party, he jumped on the table, kicked over all the dishes, urinated on the master's poems, and returned home drunk with Verlaine . His emotions were capricious, sensitive, intense, almost insane, and he didn't care about the surprised eyes of others. But even like this, he couldn't make people feel disgusted - he was too clean at this time. His soul is very pure. Through his pure blue eyes, only two things could be seen. One is his poem, the other is Verlaine.
Together, they laughed at the rigidity and incompetence of their hosts at dinner parties; stumbled and laughed out loud in deserted alleys; they grimaced at Verlaine's poor 18-year-old wife on the train going in the opposite direction. It was the triumph of a mischievous child who succeeded in his treachery. From Paris to London, they chased Rimbaud's dream of sun and sea, kissing and making love in different hotel rooms. I will never forget the almost crazy look of that blond boy when he first saw the sea, throwing off the shackles of his clothes and rushing into the sea tossing with the waves. He rushed towards his lover, hugged him tightly with the strength that he could not wait to melt his blood into his bones, his lips and teeth intersected.
That unforgettable kiss, that sea, is the testimony of their deep love.
In fact, I don't understand why the talented poet who is so talented and arrogant about his talents closed his pen before he was 20 years old. The masterpieces of his short 37-year life were left before they officially parted. He used up the remaining ten years of his life, traveled all over the place, and engaged in various occupations that had nothing to do with art, but died in a hospital in Marseille at the age of 37. "I don't think there's anything to say," he said. But I don't believe it. The reason is probably only clear to Rimbaud himself. Just like their love, it didn't start and end without a problem. Only the sun and the sea in the dream complement each other until eternity.
At the end of the film, Verlaine, who learned of Rimbaud's death, ordered two glasses of absinthe, just like when they came to the tavern, the wine slipped into the goblet, and the beautiful Rimbaud appeared again, clear. The blue eyes are filled with lust and love, and they are gently covered with a layer of water.
- "Tell me if you love me."
- "You know I'm very found of you."
"Do you love me?"
- "Yes."
- "Then put your hand on the table."
- "What?"
- "Put your hand on the table. Palm upwards."
Rimbaud picked up the knife on the table and gently rubbed the scar on Verlaine's palm. This time, he didn't choose to stick to it. He gently raised his lover's old hand and gently dropped a kiss. With a smile on his face, he always looked at Verlaine affectionately.
- "Since he died, I see him every night... my great and radiant sin. We were always happy... always. I remember." - "I found it.".
-"What?" -"Eternity. It's the sun mingled... with the sea."
PS: The bgm of the movie is very classic. Especially the song Eternity in Verlaine's recollection at the end of the film is the soul of the film. Here are three beautiful pictures, this one is really the peak of Xiao Lizi's appearance. (The picture is crawled on the Internet, see the watermark for the source of the picture, invaded and deleted)
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