Does the true self-image exist? I venture to guess that this may be a source of depression: the confusion that comes from self-identity. It even made me feel a humble resonance when watching the movie. In a group of people, I feel vulgar and tasteless, green card with milk powder all day; in another group, I feel mediocrity and concert with tobacco and alcohol all day long. To use another inappropriate analogy, look at the patriotic youth on Weibo who cursed people more severely than one. The generation of immigrants around me was also scourge in the black, there is nothing in between? What about these people in between? Are all silent majority? Make a fortune in silence?
The movie itself is also worried about excessive facial makeup. Is the summary of the conclusion that "Wallace does not want to be portrayed into any image" is actually a general guide? The film accepts this existence itself in peace and stability; in fact, any generalization is a projection of self-consciousness; if you think that the film is boring and empty, there is nothing right or wrong. Depression may also come from the judgment of right and wrong and the search for meaning.
At the end of the film, Lipsky sneaked into Wallace's study and opened the curtains. The moment the winter sun was refracted by the snow, the room was filled with pale memories; when the 45-year-old thought of parting with Wallace, Wallace told him not to be himself. Many things are destined to be incomprehensible at the time. When I look back, I only remember that feeling, a feeling of trying to analyze and plan for the future; in the end, I found that all choices and searches are meaningless. All you and I can do is obey fate. Arrange to go with the flow.
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