Does darkness lead to confusion or confusion leads to darkness? this is a problem. I believe that human nature is inherently good. After being hit repeatedly, Travis decided to avenge the society. Pay attention to the effects of severe loneliness and alienation after repeated blows. Medically speaking, this is a symptom of a schizophrenic personality disorder. When he didn't understand "activity under the moonlight", when he dated Betsy the way he did, he was working hard.
Confusion comes with failure. Confusion is just helplessness in the face of setbacks. What I want to say is one thing that made this movie more famous, that is, the man who assassinated Reagan, wasn't he the product of his impulsive confusion after his failure?
I believe that there are many things beyond my own power in the world, and I also believe that there are many things in the world that are within my own power. There will be less darkness and less confusion if you are more gentle, courteous, frugal, and sympathetic and compassionate.
"Taxi Driver" is one of Scorsese's most milestone works. Not to mention the many honors it has received, the practical significance and profound ideas contained in the film are enough to be listed as the best in the world's century-old film.
Carrying this profound social significance are the superb images, music and extraordinary performances of actors in "Taxi Driver". Scorsese created a prosperous but indifferent atmosphere in New York through dark tones, and his repeated close-ups of Travis's eyes highlighted the loneliness and sadness of the people in the city. The famous composer Bernard Herman, who has collaborated with Hitchcock many times, wrote the music for the film. The downturn and heavy music style adds a black and gloomy temperament to "Taxi Driver". The soundtrack of the movie "Taxi Driver" has also become one of the twelve classic soundtracks recognized in the United States. De Niro’s emotional investment in the film’s performance has been delicate, and Travis has also become one of De Niro’s most successful screen images. The plot of Travis talking to himself in the mirror is also De Niro's most talked about improvisation. Child star Judy Foster was only 14 years old, so the film was nominated for an Oscar that year. On March 30, 1981, a guy named John Hinckley fired six shots at the then U.S. President Reagan and his press secretary and special agents. After interrogation, this crazy killer was a die-hard fan of Foster. He especially liked watching "Taxi Driver", and imitating the plot of the assassination of the presidential candidate in the film, he raised a pistol to the "innocent" President Reagan and assassinated it. The president's purpose is to attract Foster's attention and get her love.
After the dim helplessness of the 1950s and the cathartic rebellion of the 1960s, American youth in the 1970s were tired of the lonely wandering journey. In loneliness and confusion, they began to seek the return of their souls: return to the mainstream society. Martin Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" shaped such a path of return, and the soloist who died at the end of the road.
I can’t help but think of He Qifang’s "
Lone Talk ", which envisioned walking alone on a desolate night street with a stubborn sound following you stubbornly, like a black shadow under a dim light. You don’t know whether you should cherish it or you can’t bear it: That It's the monologue of your footsteps.
People often make strange words or actions when they are lonely. Action is also a kind of language.
Resolutely leaving the green tea, Werther walked alone on the bank of sunshine and weeping willows, like in a dream. The color of temptation aroused his desire to be a painter, so he determined to try his own destiny; he took a small knife from his pocket and threw it from the weeping willow into the river. If he can see its fall, he will succeed as a painter, otherwise he will not. Did that lonely wave move you? Do you understand?
I also thought of a figure in the Western Jin Dynasty who loves to drive alone and cries back when the rut is impassable.
Climb to the top, who doesn't scream for a long sorrow? Do you want to fill the vastness of the universe with his voice? I was afraid that I could only bow my head in silence when I asked him. I once walked into an ancient building, and the painted eaves and huge pillars were vying to tell me something, and the low stone fence also made a sound, like some stoic and thoughtful fingers groaning on it, and I myself fell into— A fossil.
Or under the dim light, there is an outstanding book in front of you, and you will hear the monologues of all the characters in it. A gentle monologue, a sad monologue, or a violent monologue. The black door was closed tightly: a soul who was always looking forward to die inside the door, and a soul who was always looking for died outside the door. Every soul is a world without windows. And lovely souls are stubborn soloists.
My thoughts are not about running in the wilderness. There is a lonely old house with overwhelming painted walls and white moss on the steps, as if looking forward to the final steps: I was fascinated when I was alone.
Is there such a place, or is it in a dream? Or it's just a combination of two chapters of the love poems of the past, a strange combination that is unrelated: the veil is ajar, the floor has been swept, the shadow of the ivy crawling on the bed of the deceased; the soul of the deceased returns to his familiar room Here, friends were having dinner, laughing and talking about "tomorrow and tomorrow", but no one remembered "yesterday".
Is this decadent? Can I think of "death" beautifully, but can't I think of "life" beautifully?
Why do I feel too satiated: "Those who go sparsely talk, and those who live kiss each other day by day"? It is sighing that I was stretched by the hands of the dark and "people" crouched in the center like a spider. The hatred increases the distance from each other, and the love increases the wrong connection. Has anyone ever looked forward and jumped in his own net, feeling the sadness of being willing to be bound because of the lack of a thread of darkness? Did the person forget, or did I forget the person?
"Here is your hat." Or "This is your scarf, let's go for a walk", I can still say these usual sentences. And my friend with gentle silence, I remember him even more: in his room there is a weird drawer, a small delicate envelope with lilacs in it. Or the fan-shaped leaves that are not well-known, seem to show his tender memory in order to divide my loneliness. On the wall is a small picture. Turning over the back, it says "The Fisher Girl of the Moon".
Ugh. I have a taste of myself: the thing that warms mankind, I either lack it excessively or overflow it. Both are enough to cause disease.
When the Indian prince was traveling, he saw birth, old age, sickness and death, and he came out of the ambition of the Indians. I would also like to have a bodhi tree's shade, sitting there and thinking for a while. Although what I want to think about is another topic.
So, my eyes wandered on the window. The sky looked like a gloomy face pressed against the window, letting out a suffocating breath. Is this the cause of my depression? And again, in the left corner of the pane, I found an eavesdropper of my monologue: like a cicada's abandoned body, crouching upwards, silent. Silently, with it—pair of long tentacles, three pairs of bent thin legs. I remembered that it was the shadow of an insect that I painted with my own hands. When it slowly climbed onto my window paper, it made a lonely silver chirp, in a passing sunny autumn.
2009-01-17 First published on Baidu http://hi.baidu.com/leeyzh/item/ea86c9484bd6fd2411ee1e64
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