The interpretation of loneliness, this one, is very soft.
Tony's birth and childhood are brought together in the language of the novel. Every shot fusion is like flipping a book. The boy who went to middle school, started to cook dinner, bathe by himself, and named Tony Waterfall. The leaves he painted are astonishingly detailed, extremely beautiful, and never tire of seeing them, just like a silent and arrogant loneliness.
Tony became an illustrator of sophisticated machines. People who see through the beauty of machinery have spiritual cleanliness. When he falls in love with a woman who is born to wear clothes, his confession may also be like a clock with a dull surface.
Soon, women's illnesses spread. In fact, no one said that she likes to use clothes to fill the emptiness in her heart, which is the same panic as his fear of loneliness, panic without a word. Her legs were so beautiful that every pair of shoes became stilts for the soul. A whole room of beautiful clothes, like some kind of desolate post-war city, or a cemetery that is too quiet without sunlight. When the close-up rises from the legs and shoes and focuses on the face, the ambivalent opposition is exposed. The final scene is also very clean.
Tony, who was eating vegetable salad alone, put his wife's ashes away and was about to water the cactus when he found that his hands were empty, only the container was left. Rainwater flows outside the glass. He was crying on the sofa. Reminiscent of a wife washing out a car, smiling at her husband.
The husband hires a female secretary on the condition that he wears his wife's leftover clothes to work. He panicked and acted cowardly in the face of this request. He was also a social person with a habit of cleanliness and did not dare to be self-willed.
When clothes become relics, they have a statue-like aura. The new female secretary puts on one piece and takes it off; puts on another piece and takes it off. . . until weeping. Her explanation was that she had never seen so many beautiful clothes. In fact, what she wants to say is probably that she has never felt sadness in "their own body" in such an unfamiliar and vast sense of closeness.
Tony's father left trumpets and records. Jazz itself did not bring him comfort. The relationship between loneliness and music is probably also a kind of love. You can't force it, but it can also bring people moving scenes. When the music also becomes a relic, the tranquility will also be heavier.
Tony is completely alone after selling second-hand clothes and second-hand records. It's like a festivity. With the indifference and cruelty of a monk. When people go to the end on the road of sadness, they become cruel. Abandonment becomes redemption.
Tony uses nothing to save nothing. This is a terminal illness for autistic people.
And love is a prison. We are willing to be prisoners for life. Tony curled up in the empty room with nothing left, just like his father curled up in prison, pretending he couldn't hear the execution gun.
Looking at the comments upstairs, most of them are not satisfied with the ending. Should a man abandoned by his dead wife appear? Out of cleanliness, of course not. Out of cruelty, maybe. Will someone answer the phone call to a strange girl wearing his wife's belongings, and the open ending makes people's hearts boring, maybe it's because of cruelty.
Loneliness is like Ryuichi Sakamoto's piano soundtrack. Happiness and lucidity are like a line that occasionally pops up. The abrupt articulation and careful breathing are the filmmakers' extreme care for the happiness of the film. Like a sadomasochism, or doting.
In such a beautiful picture, there is such a desperate doting on loneliness.
I still don't know which novel by Haruki Murakami is this. In fact, the film is more paranoid than Haruki Murakami's text, and Murakami-kun's sense of humor and rap, and his spiritual ramblings of jazz are absent here. Only one hundred percent feeling remains. pure. Unavailable. Unthinkable.
I really like this finely detailed film. Because of the identification with loneliness, my attachment to this sense of form was triggered, and finally my extravagant desire for loneliness with cleanliness was inspired.
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