The rhythm of a French literary film, slow and poignant. The music, the pictures, the plot, and the conflict of characters all seem so undisguised.
The oil sketches of old painters really appealed to me. Moreover, the long-dipped fountain pen and the random smeared ink drop and outline, the shot is so long, and the sound is the sound of brush strokes across the drawing paper, except for the insects in the hot summer.
The crisis of trust in marriage, the unruly love of youth, the ambiguity, jealousy, suspicion and calculation between people all seem so careless, but after all, it is a struggle between soul and humanity, even if there is no sword and shadow. Cultured hooligans seem to play more calmly. I think the world can believe in the existence of beauty and human nature, but the most unsustainable thing is still human nature. . . . . .
But the language of the artist really needs to be interpreted by the audience who can understand it. Isn't the soul the most difficult to describe?
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