So, what is "God's Silence"?
If "Landscape in the Mist" is about the travels of Ulla and Alexandria, then everything else is just the passers-by, tragedy creators, participants, and spectators on their journey. The "others" I call include: conductors, uncles who don't care about them, dying horses and people at weddings, truck drivers who carry them and rape Ullah, waiters and guests in bars, disbanded concert troupes, The big hand lifted by the helicopter, the treacherous restaurant owner, the old man who plays, the soldier at the station, and Orestes-even though he is so special.
Ullah and Alexander’s journey started from dreams, to reality, from good beginnings to despair and ending—they avoided their mothers at home, looking for their father in Germany, the father who only existed in dreams and on the letter paper. A childhood journey was held in pain all the way, they had to face it alone (although he was obviously not the savior of the world despite the help of Orestes at some time), until the end of the film, they arrived in Germany, and seemed to be closer to their dreams, but The reality is still far away, because the father does not exist, and even the mother is absent.
At that time, I understood: God’s silence is just to stand by and watch the suffering of mankind.
Well, if I ever said: "An Zhe's long lens is like tears slowly sliding across his cheeks", then I admit that, at least in "Landscape in the Mist", this is not the case. The long shots in "Landscape in the Mist" are just like "a long sharp needle slowly piercing the heart." The whole movie is like a long scroll about sadness. Every time a page is opened, the long needle penetrates deeper into the heart until it penetrates, or is full of holes.
The lingering thing in my mind is: when the truck driver drags Ula into the back of the truck like a chicken, the camera stops there quietly without any sound. The truck compartment is like a huge black box. All the resistance, struggle, and pain were wrapped up, but something broke free. At that time, my heart couldn't help but a pain, and unstoppable grief hit my face.
I think of what Bergman said in "The Smile of a Summer Night": "What ultimately pushes us to be indifferent to despair is the fact that we cannot protect anyone from any moment of pain."
I don't want to recall anymore. And repeat the fragments of the journey of Ullah and Alexander, it will be an extremely painful writing experience. I want to talk about Orestes, this handsome and kind-hearted man, whose only role in the movie is to transform into the bowstring of a strong bow, so as to shoot the arrow of pain more accurately and more ruthlessly at Ullah. He Constantly helping the brothers and sisters, giving them food, setting them up to sleep, driving them forward, and helping them escape the police chase. He became her spiritual support when Ulla was in the most painful time, and then she needed it most. He collapsed suddenly-like a dilapidated temple. He was helpless, even more helpless than when the performing arts troupe was disbanded. Because he can't replace the "father", and can't even become a "love". Maybe it's not his fault, but who is wrong?
God remains silent.
When Ullah and Alexander arrived at the border, the lonely tree appeared, I thought of Tarkovsky’s "Sacrifice". There was also the same tree and the same loneliness, accompanied by the same desperate "Alexander". . In the two master films, one young and one old, two "Alexanders", both end up in unfathomable despair in the distance. Is it an amazing coincidence or a continuation of fate?
At the end of "Sacrifice", Alexander's son watered the sapling that symbolized a new life. In "Landscape in the Fog", even though Ulla and Alexander had escaped the shooting and reached the "Germany" behind the fog, I still watched it. There is no hope. In Anzhe's movies, grief never ends, but from one station to another.
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