At the beginning of the movie, I rushed into the theater and sat down in a hurry. Perhaps it was because of my mood. I struggled with Steven for the first hour: Why is there only eight minutes at a time? Why do I need to discover the truth every time I am here? When I was blown up, or killed?
Whenever I see a movie about love, I feel particularly moved. The love here is broad, especially the love of parents and the love of strangers, which touches the most unbreakable part of people's hearts.
I don't want to think about the so-called physical flaws in movies anymore, and I don't want to argue whether history has been rewritten or entered a parallel world. I think sometimes I just immerse myself in it so stupidly, filming for movies, not for physics.
Every eight minutes, Steven went through chatting, spilling coffee, checking tickets, pitching pistols, finding suspects... for the last time, his mission was completed and he could finally end his life, but he chose to return to the deadly car heading to Chicago again. Train, complete a series of tasks "familiar with the road", contact with two detonating devices, torture the suspect, call the police (I would rather believe that history is rewritten from this moment), flirt with Christian, make all the people in the car laugh, and freeze the picture there. A kiss, and everyone's smiling faces.
This kind of moving is really beyond words. The most admirable thing about American movies is the perfect combination of love and heroism (of course, love here is still in a broad sense).
I still remember watching 2012, the moment the house collapsed, when the two elderly people hugged each other, I was so touched, I said to myself, if the end of the world comes, I will hug my parents, just like that. Regret to leave together.
If there were only eight minutes left in your life, what would you use it for? If it were me, I'd
put things well at hand, start to finish, like Steven, knowingly be used, still seriously put into each of eight minutes;
then call my parents and tell them I'm sorry, very grateful, Although there were "sorrows and joys" in the first two decades, this is life;
then tell someone (if he exists) that I love him and let him know it is enough.
I don't want to leave this world with suspicion, self-blame, and regret.
PS finally wants to talk about Goodwin, this beautiful female chief. To Steven, she is a stranger. Although they talk every eight minutes, this is just a task, a job. I have to admire Vera Famega’s acting skills, a pouting, frowning, and let me see this capable woman, although she has a strong execution ability, she has a perseverance and yearning for justice and beauty in her heart. This is exactly what I have been entangled with all the time-is it from the heart or from the reality? I am envious of those who balance the two well, but they can't do it themselves. I want to live a casual and sunny life, but worry about Beijing's housing prices and increasingly severe employment pressure... At the last moment, the boss was desperately looking for someone to open the password door. She was inside, with a calm and determined expression. .
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