Don't talk about the technical stuff. The director is indeed inexperienced in handling some places and is too blunt. But the atmosphere of this film is still completely in place.
When I was in junior high school, I also wanted to write a similar one in the future. Story. What do we call this? Probably it can be called cruel youth. Everyone in the story is living apart and intertwined. When I edit my own memory, I can't dodge it. The details are split once.
Kelly is the seventh person hiding in an unknown place. The best part of the whole film is the application of music. When she cuts her own blood with scissors, the background music is angelic humming . Arguably an overly direct approach. But it's very real to my taste.
Kelly is a symbol of hope that doesn't exist. Or, as we learned in those years. Only death can Will end the pain of the world.
The prop scissors Kelly used, reminded me of a person. It was a very quiet night. I played the outsider. We knocked hard and couldn't get in. Where is hope? The furthest distance is the distance between people and people's hearts. We can't open that door. When I sat tiredly in front of the door, in the hallway without lights, listening to my own breathing and looking at the light from the crack of the door I hated all the locks in the world.
When I opened the door, I saw the ferocious wound on the girl's hand. I saw the blood on the ground. I saw the scissors with stains and rust. I was surprised. She can use such scissors to cut her own flesh and cut her tendons.
In the hospital, when I saw the doctor sew her wounds, she was greeted with a sneering question. I just smiled and said nothing.
Those about cruel youth Years. Maybe it's gone away from me. I know that my youth is completely over. So I'm no longer interested in this subject. But watching this kind of film, the depressing smell will come back.
I would like to ask, where is the hope? Is it really only death that can end suffering.
I would also like to know which is more pathetic than ignorant despair or sober despair.
I would also like to know. Clipped memories. Youth. They are homeless from now on, is it a kind of regret and sadness?
My hopes are long dead. My memory is incompetent. I can't cut them clean. I can't be great enough to be a catcher in the rye. The rampant years, always, always I am trying. I want to control something, and I want to hold something in my hands.
Maybe, because of this, the things I reach for and hold are always too tight, and they will all be crushed and won't get anything. Right .
People to people. You or you wandering around. Because I had a similar cruel youth. So I'll write something about it tonight.
Despair is to never have any hope and hope for salvation. .to give up completely, any possibility of resistance.
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