The war will not be a small halt because of this. The most brave soldiers of the Marine Corps rushed to the battlefield singing the most childish but most direct songs, fulfilling their duty of giving their lives for the country. The protagonist became a war correspondent, and his lens reported the most absurd and shocking things. The soldiers said the most vulgar words and vented their psychological fear and resentment. They felt that they were wronged. They used their freedom to fight for the freedom of such a group of ignorant people, but they did not appreciate it. They chattered in front of the camera and talked about themselves. Cold jokes that don't want to laugh, they are indifferent and powerless, they can only choose to walk like a beast. They said "fuck" every word, but didn't realize who the object of the scolding was.
Behind is the peaceful area of the position, and the sound of guns and cannons is faintly heard every day. Only in the smoke of life, only when watching the people around you fall, can you change from numbness to helplessness, helplessness to horror, and horror to despair. Only in despair, the desperate can see the flower of life. In full bloom in the blood, the remaining life is breathing the last breath. That life is so beautiful, it should belong to the age of love and sex, but because of a cold joke, it fell on the battlefield of no one to rot, slow, sober, Painful death. The clown's shot was a relief, even a blessing, and the people who were crushed by this huge mistake had no choice but to say goodbye.
Is the clown a clown? Or in the discourse of war, those who have not forgotten their beliefs and those who insist on their peace claims have no power to fight for and protest. They are sent to the battlefield to die for their opponents, so they Become a clown.
Foucault said that madness and irrationality have never been a concept of purely medical significance. They are the opposite of the definition of normal, and are the product of social exclusion/isolation mechanisms. The same is true for the clown, who is the clown? Is it the one who insists on wearing the Peace Medal on the battlefield? Is it a doctor who insists on going to the wounded even in danger? Is it someone who can save a woman only by killing a woman? Perhaps we can only say that who should define it is not the doctor who has the final say, but the tough, who speaks for the power behind it. Therefore, it is power that defines everything, stupid, and necessary.
As movie audiences, we are separated from all the great sadness and joy because of a screen. We are just boring spectators in other people’s lives. We look around. The scarlet soft velvet chairs in the cinema remind us of our transcendence, but is life? Isn't the same narrative structure telling a different storyline? Once upon a time, our flesh-and-blood drive was transformed into an all-metal shell by social discipline and self-transformation. We tremble in this man-made forest, and we are always ready to live a life. We ignore the flesh and blood of our conscience and weep in the dark. We are dying in the wild regardless of our spirits, we look for, guard, arm, and fight endlessly with another wanderer. We can't stop fighting, because we can't beat the builders of the forest, so we have to follow his rules of the game and either kill ourselves or kill others. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but think of the brother who killed himself on April Fool's Day. One day, we were tired from fighting, what should we do? I was in a cold sweat, but tears filled my eyes.
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