It (he)) will not sit still

Cleora 2022-01-26 08:16:48

Rewatched it today and re-rated it to 5.

The part about saving the dog at the beginning of the film, I think is the happiest part of Monty in the whole film.

The whole time, Monty kept his eyes on the dog, first looking at the dog sadly, angry that "they littered it like garbage", and wanted to give it a good time (look at the kindness of the New York drug dealer). Then you see Monty looking at the dog with a pampering smile and eyes, asking to adopt it. Because "it's quite fierce, it's very kind, it won't sit still, it doesn't want to die, it wants to live".

He loves the dog, he has scolded the world, even God is not spared, but he did not scold the dog. People and dogs travel, because someone loves him, this dog is confident and handsome, and he will be praised by everyone along the way. He is a cool dog. Even the middle school teacher has been adored by the dog, and can be praised by a beautiful girl. Monty also thought carefully about entrusting the dog. He is also very accurate in seeing people. No one in the film mentions what happens to the puppy after Monty is in prison. Only the middle school teacher is concerned about where the puppy will go when he chats with Frank. Monty entrusts the dog to the purest and most ethical middle school teacher, and the dog will be cared for sincerely.

Monty has a dog-like personality in his bones, they are an attribute. You can see how much he, it overlaps in fate---when fate will abandon Monty, if there is one person, he will continue to study and become a social elite. But with no one to help him, he made it through his own way and became the Monty he is now.

It is undeniable that Monty is a smart person. He won a scholarship in a private school and was an excellent teammate of the school basketball team; when he came to the drug trafficking team, he did well. Not every drug dealer can afford to live in a high-end apartment in the city center. In the bar, everyone respected him very much, including the head of the drug dealer who didn't want to make trouble with him.

In the film, there is a guilt discussion between the father, Frank, and his girlfriend that Monty's drug trafficking process has not been effectively discouraged.

However, what does Monty care about? He was really afraid of going to jail. But it wasn't the jail time that hit him the most.

He has been dealing drugs for many years, and he has enough money to close his hands, but he doesn't. He admitted in his heart that the fate of today's fate with the money of the poisonous insects was his own fault.

At the boss of the drug dealer bar, he confirmed one thing, and then, I think he went to jail with the warmth of his heart.

Before, he comforted his father and his friends, but he did not comfort his girlfriend. There was a sense of estrangement and suspicion between the two of them.

What he most refuses to admit, the most uneasy thing in his heart is the betrayal of his lover. When he confirmed his girlfriend's loyalty, he was very happy. He told his father about his suspicions, and told his father the confirmed news on the way to the prison. Do you see how happy Monty is?

If the person we care about most betrays us, the lethality is the greatest. Punishing people is the most deadly, but fortunately Monty is not so miserable.

So, at the end of the film, he saw that the neighborhood was so cute and warm. He told his girlfriend to find someone else to live happily, because Monty was loved so he was willing to consider their future life for others.

He will take good care of himself in prison, his world has not collapsed. I believe Monty will come back after 7 years.

911 didn't keep New Yorkers out of the city. Although the excavator on the ruins is enveloped in great sadness; the boring teacher, the high-stress broker, the fireman who opens the bar... They are not all happy, but there are things that make people warm in New York , so, New Yorkers can reluctantly rebuild, this is the belief of New Yorkers.

So, trust me, Monty will come back with the same smile as the opening title.

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Extended Reading
  • Liam 2022-04-23 07:01:46

    The golden sentences appear frequently, and the literary foundation of the original work can be seen. However, if it is all stuffed into the movie, too much talk will raise the viewing threshold, and you can taste it only after you keep up with the rhythm. Also, the visual style and Terence Blanchard's soundtrack are not at all like Spike Lee's films.

  • Rosetta 2022-01-26 08:16:48

    When Spike Lee had not yet become a sixth-year-old boy in the United States, his ability to organize images was still very strong. Edward Norton alone supported the entire play, especially the 40 consecutive fucking passages in the mirror, editing and The performance coordination was seamless, and it was almost bursting. Humanistic care in the post-911 era, a story of redemption that happened within a day, if life deceives you, take him, hahahaha.

25th Hour quotes

  • Frank Slaughtery: You know, you're wearing a striped shirt with a striped tie, you know that, right?

    Phelan: Yeah, I do it for the ladies.

    Frank Slaughtery: Oh - the ladies ever tell you that you look like a fucking optical illusion?

    Phelan: Yeah?

    Frank Slaughtery: Go away, disappear... come on.

    Phelan: I'm outta here.

  • [Monty standing in the men's bathroom, talking to himself in a mirror with "FUCK YOU!" written on it]

    Monty Brogan: Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck *me*? Fuck *you*, Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car - get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for "The Sopranos." Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck J.C.! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J.! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.

    [pause]

    Monty Brogan: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you *dumb* *fuck*!