This makes me feel melancholy and panic.
The melancholy is more and more discovering the distance between myself and youth. When I was young, I read a book or watched a movie, even if it was an old-fashioned scene with a bad plot, I would have a long aftertaste because of a certain heartbeat. When I was young, I was hungry and thirsty for everything I was afraid of not being broad enough. I am afraid that I can’t say one or two sentences to echo the unfamiliar vocabulary in others’ mouths; when I was young, I read Sanmao’s "Allure", "I was a beautiful woman at that time. It must be able to move people-whoever he is"-sentences like this give me all shock and expectation, and I will not go to the boring question of whether or not the truth behind it is tested; when I was young, I read "I hate those lines that pretend to be clever, and I don’t understand why it is so difficult for those paranoid and autistic characters to say "love"!
Panic is a kind of tremor and shock that can't be done after this distance. I read "The Allure" a few days ago, and I can't find the emotion and shock at the beginning. Even though I still love Sanmao, I have begun to calmly recognize the proficiency of writing. I went to see the “Dong Evil and Western Poison Ultimate Edition” on the weekend, and the emotions that I couldn’t understand when I was young were surging like a tide in my chest. With Yo-Yo Ma’s cello sound, tears finally came one after another in the dark theater. Roll down one by one. I watched "Painted Skin" the next day. This story must have been touching to me ten years ago, but before me, the editing is not smooth, the theme is not prominent, and I feel deeply sorry for the degraded conception.
These years are truly magical. They were beautiful when they were young, but they had to be whitewashed; when they were dim, they had to be magical, and the memories suddenly became colorful.
I have never liked Wong Kar Wai so much. The narrations in "Evils of the East" are hard to escape the suspicion of being artificial, and they are so much that the movie almost degenerates into a long version of music TV: the picture is reduced to a secondary status, only providing a visual supplement to these babbles. From Bazin’s point of view, making a movie in this way is almost like cheating. The function of visual language is greatly weakened. From beginning to end, the director hides behind the actors and keeps talking, talking, and supplementing, where is it called a movie? , It is clearly a recitation of prose soundtrack! And even if you put aside the primary and secondary distinctions of these forms of expression, as a story, "Evil and West Poison" is not good. It is fragmented and has no major plot development. It has only a group of inexplicable characters who are talking about themselves. Love and crazy words. The ultimate version simply removes all the explanations of the characters that have nothing to do with the emotions in the film, and the high-strength descriptions of the martial arts belonging to Jin Yong, the evil and the poison, etc., making the silhouettes of these characters more fragmented and more isolated.
As a teenager, it is impossible for me to like such a movie.
Even today, I still dislike such extreme emotional expressions. If it weren’t for the few opportunities to watch Chinese-language movies in theaters, I’m afraid I would not have seized the opportunity of just one weekend to watch a movie that was clearly not my cup of tea.
In the re-edited "Evil East and West Poison", Wang Jiawei painted them with thick colors, and all the subtle connections that once explained the cause and effect were cut off, leaving all that survived by impression. This is like the connection of light and shadow in a surrealist painting. I found that if you give up the requirement for narrative, you will be so moving when you look at it as an old dream from a young age.
The sand is bright yellow, the color of winter jasmine. A bright blue sky and white clouds were reflected in the puddle. Red like blood, green like ink, light and shadow slanting horizontally, too thick to dissolve. He is still the same as he was a decade ago, with no wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and no vicissitudes in his pupils. The same lines were said, and the same sighs were heard. The only thing that changed was myself.
Memories are indeed the most interesting thing. Once a complete story is filtered by the years, it will become a fragment. The order in which they appear may change, and even the people involved may remember it wrong, but some of the seemingly trivial details are the most vivid. The so-called memory actually remembers these most useless things, some colors, shapes, a smell, a sentence, an expression. What has been nourished in my heart for many years is the kind of emotion that these symbols represent, such as loneliness, regret, and heartache.
In my memories, my own voice is actually dominating all people and things. Whether Murong Yan and Murong Yan are one person or two, the difference is of little significance. I once couldn't figure out who the woman named Peach Blossom and the woman holding a peach blossom by the sea were the longing of Huang Yaoshi's heart, but later discovered that they were actually telling the same story, a story about loss. When I was young, I didn’t understand why they concealed their stubborn refusal to say love, and thus missed so many of the best moments in life. Later I realized that what they refuse to say or fail to say in life is not only love. .
The English name of Dianyin is "The Ashes of Time", which is much more appropriate than the Chinese "Eastern Evil and West Poison". At the end of the years, the woman in the red shirt under the peach blossom tree cried into the mirror, and the woman called the peach blossom in the light of the water wept on her back. I am a lucky person. When I was young, I only knew how to rush forward, and I couldn't realize their heartache; but time taught me tolerance, and I understood because of tolerance, and finally moved because of understanding.
A move makes people feel melancholy, even if they are other people's stories, even if they are irrelevant. Behind the movement, there is actually an unreasonable panic. Gradually, it became clear that no matter how firm a belief is, it will eventually become ashes in the face of time.
Recently, I always have to look in the mirror carefully before going out. There are more and more days of being thin, and I also love to lament the benefits of being young more and more. "I laugh like a spring flower"-I admire the face of such a young woman. I want to know if in my best days, if I also understand so many things now, my life would be different. I don't want to be frightened to find out that the years have also wandered silently on my face, and one day was covered with dust. My palms were damp and clenched the words "Innocent Heart", but I was still afraid, that one day there would only be sharpened sharpness in my eyes, and the innocence of the age of innocence would be gone.
Yo-Yo Ma’s cello was played in a low tone, which turned out to be an elegy of youth.
Shaohua good
Yan Fei early as
next spring Yo swing frame
wavefront turn
Rearranging a
sigh
streamer love to throw people
red cherry
green banana
years end, the wind from the ashes of all time.
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