Death is inevitable, and living is good fortune.
The dark yellow scenes constantly switch as the lens stretches, bright street scenes, boys wearing yellow six-pointed stars, crowds wearing yellow six-pointed stars, farewell rituals that signify death by birth and death...
Such intense friction between happiness and sadness, Between the Nazi concentration camps, happiness, fear, blind obedience, regret, hatred, despair, memories, and entanglement are a little warm. The id struggles between dignity and difficulty, the superego cruises between happiness and melancholy...
What surprises me is the multiple uses of the pan flute, from the inner monologue of childhood, to the wandering coldness of the Nazis, to the group. The door of history where string trembling slowly unfolds. The appearance of the pipe organ opened up a thick picture. The blank alto, accompanied by the sad sound of the flute, creates a very heavy ominous. In the last Budapest, the original shadow can no longer be found, the sound of the violin in sorrow, with a kind of physical and mental fragility and persistence to life.
From the bright spring morning to all the gloomy winter days, the glimmer of hope becomes more and more sad, and the weak body contains the strength to live, from spring to winter...
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