Is it just me, or do some people think that Ben Button is a very fake Forrest Gump?
Defective children, selfless maternal love, black mother's phrase "No one knows what is waiting in the future", which is the same as Forrest Gump’s famous chocolate theory;
both have a childhood sweetheart, beautiful and bold. Open, as an adult, live on the stage, but after leaving, he experienced a rich return, accompanied by a naive little Lori; the
family hotel became a nursing home, Forrest Gump’s shrimp boat became a tug, lost in the Vietnam War The two-legged captain became a lame father, and Forrest Gump who was running across the country became Elizabeth who was crossing the English Channel;
Ben’s affair with the British spy’s wife was a bit of Casablanca, and Daisy’s narrative about the car crash was a bit copied. Using diary flashbacks in bed is a bit like loving a notebook... In the
end I actually awkwardly imitated college graduates as backpackers to travel the world gap year?
What's all this mess? Is the screenwriter's brain flooded? What is the significance of such a nondescript invincible pirate edition?
How beautiful is Fitzgerald’s short and succinct novel, and the intention is nothing more than age and age, happiness and passing away, the magic of time is unparalleled, and the reverse life is more acrimonious and mocking the step-by-step life is incomparably absurd and worthless. One mention-how did they make such a weird thing out of their unauthorised chaos and aggravated love? The charm of magical realism is gone.
In fact, in the original book, Ben’s father never abandoned him, and Ben never escaped from marriage. This strange old man had adult intelligence from birth. After running a family business, he married the daughter of the same general. Bullying his grandson in the kindergarten with the bottle, and then dying silently, there is no sensational bridge as a baby dying in the arms of an aging lover.
This is the real Fitzgerald, who looks glamorous, but calm and speechless like running water.
This film has 13 items in the just-released Oscar nominations. David Fincher is indeed the darling of the Academy Awards.
The judges probably deliberately ignored the inconsistency of shooting styles. Suddenly rough and plain like discovery, suddenly dreamy and beautiful like mv, and suddenly dark and repressed like Schindler-I think this is probably with David's painful and splitting scolding on the set every day. It's somewhat related.
In any case, as long as Eric Roth doesn't take the best adapted screenplay, he can say anything.
Some words can never be put on the screen.
They can never be concretized. They were born only for the thickness of paper tentacles and designed for the imagination of a thousand years.
At the end of the following novel, for the great Gatsby author’s name:
"He can’t remember. He can’t remember whether the milk he was fed to him was hot or cold the last time, and how the days passed-only his cradle and Nina’s familiar face. He doesn’t remember anything else. When he was hungry, he cried—that’s it. He was breathing throughout the afternoon and evening. There were soft whispers and low voices around him. He could barely hear; all kinds of smells, light and darkness, he just vaguely felt it.
Then it was pitch black. His white crib, the hazy face swaying on it, and the sweet smell of milk came from him. My mind slowly disappeared."
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