I recently watched two movies about music, one by Douson I saw the light, and the other by Ethan Hawke, born to be blue.
It is also a film about music poets released in 2015. Compared with the bright and lively country, I still prefer jazz, who is born with melancholy.
The best companions of great artists are always alcohol, women, sunset beaches and inspirational heroes. If it were not because of excessive alcoholism and dependence on drugs, I think these great humans should be able to live for a long time. The process of their selfless concentration on a certain thing is extremely happy in itself, and the pleasure produced by selflessness is enough to kill many bad cells. Unfortunately, this kind of selflessness often requires a material stimulus that is enough to kill, so they passed away early, leaving the world with regrets, but also left an eternal classic, which makes people have a long aftertaste.
There is always an indescribable feeling for Ethan Hawke. From the love in trilogy he played with Julie Delpy when he was young, to this born to be blue, people can't help but sigh that time is the best gift to a man. He plays Chet Baker with a meticulous oil head, full of focused and melancholy eyes when playing, and the movement of his lips due to dentures and the unchanging movements of wiping his mouth every time after the performance, all telling his infatuation with jazz. And obsession. Chet holds his beloved trumpet and blows against the waves, against the cliff, against the sky, against the woman he loves, blowing in the bathtub, blowing on the roof, blowing in the tavern, blowing in the spotlight, from The altar falls to a trough, and then rebounds from the trough. From falling in love with someone to leaving the lover, what remains unchanged is the love of trumpet among opponents. Such people are happy, and their talent allows them to live in their own world, even if they are lost occasionally. , But never lost.
As for us ordinary people, why do we live, and what makes us forget ourselves? In a corner where there is no sunlight, how do we deal with ourselves, how to please ourselves, how to kill the bad cells accumulated in the duny world, maybe we all need to find the trumpet in our hands, it may be a dish, a guitar, a paragraph Words, a piece of smooth muscles, a language other than the mother tongue, let the spirit be sued, and leave some imprints in the world, without alcohol or being a drug addict, but you can also experience one time forgetting, one time intoxication, and no communication. A generation.
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