I do not reject tragedy, and even once indulged in it. But for death, the unknown is abrupt and always full of fear. I vividly remember her swollen body from the blisters and her uncontrolled vomiting. For this kind of not very peaceful death, I once thought it was a shameful and despicable thing to look at the body.
Because of the network speed problem, I can only live by the old movies in the mobile hard disk. Exams took the vacation I gave myself in the past, and I needed a huge number of movies and books to fill this empty hole.
When it came to love, he was obviously too afraid, but he couldn't bear the slightest bit of his topic, but he still double-clicked "August Photo Studio" as if he was obsessed. Then suddenly remembered. It involves love, as well as death.
ten years. A full ten years have passed.
I don't know if it's a coincidence. Looking at it through reincarnation, it turned out to be a completely different way.
Going back and forth, Ai Ai describes the period of a first love, a breakup and a renewed love. To put it bluntly, it is just the same topic as Mrs. Xianglin.
In the afternoon through the skylight in a daze. An airplane pulled a straight white line from the bottom of the window and passed it to the top. Suddenly, the scenery was like having a baby, and he refused to look away for a long time. And stubbornly believe that it will be a good prospect in the new year.
After dispersing, the poem of Cao Honglou popped up again. The peach blossom curtain is still open, and the person in the curtain is thinner than the peach blossom.
speechless. I've been complaining a lot lately. . .
Pull back. Otherwise I'll be endlessly digressing. .
"August Photo Gallery".
Ten years later. It was only then that I discovered that the film had the same texture as the ocean. Light, but broad, broad.
Ten years later. Han Shigui still had that determined face and the same warm expression as water. Shen Yinhe was young for a long time.
Music rises before images. The motor sound of the red motorcycle, the hero's ordinary too real face. After the screen went black for two seconds, a white Korean title appeared. The font is unpretentious and kind.
"August Photo Gallery".
If you describe this story in words, it will probably be too simple to be boring. A terminally ill man and a love he never officially started. Ten years later, it was interpreted as a vulgar love story by countless dramas, but it was told by Xu Qinhao as a sweet and calm.
I also know from this. The so-called magnificent waves are calm. . .
I remember crying ten years ago. But for the first time today, with a low cry point, I watched the end calmly and coherently.
"When I was young, all my classmates left, and I was still sitting alone on the playground, missing my mother who had passed away. I suddenly realized that we will all disappear eventually."
The first monologue of the protagonist. I know, this is the story of his slow death.
Hospitals and funerals followed. Normal things that happen around you. No exaggeration at all. But because of this normality, it makes people more concerned. Because it is a review, I understand that he actually knows that he is slowly walking here. So seeing him sitting alone under the tree and turning away from the condolences, I felt that the quietness was very uncomfortable. If it was me who was sentenced. . Bah, it's a big New Year's Eve. .
In the 6th minute, the heroine appeared. With so little willfulness. There is also the title of infinite sense of security. "Uncle".
Trivial indescribable plots. Ordinary stories are inspired by the ordinary itself. And all these little details.
The big-faced girl's tossing about the bangs when taking pictures, the noisy middle school students about the girls in the class, the old grandmother's well-dressed posthumous photo, the worry about the first love but not being quiet... Such a man is tolerant and careful and gentle.
Even if he knew, he would be dead soon.
But even when taking medicine and drinking water to take pictures, he remained calm. There is also a time to satisfy her little willfulness.
I think, in the face of death, he may not be brave. More often, it is helpless, but also a kind of waiting after acceptance.
So, there was that irritating scene. Randomness in a drunk police station. Facing old friends, facing family, facing the love that never started. I think, before the warmth, he thought that this would eventually be lost. In the face of death, no one is not without a little bit of fear. perhaps.
to the family.
The first scene was of him and his sister eating watermelon and chatting. They vomited watermelon seeds together and seemed to know each other. The nose was a little sour, but it was also very warm. That knowing smile hides a lot of resonance that only belongs to the family. The clearest thing was that thunderous rainy night, when he lay beside his old father, as peaceful as a child. There is also the anxiety of worrying about the old man. Obviously, it is just a remote control that many old people don't understand, but it is to the point of slamming the door. That door-slamming sound, which is extremely out of tune with the rhythm of the whole film, appeared mature and timely. I am really amazed that the director's debut feature has such a technique. That lovely old man played with the fourth station over and over again, I couldn't help twitching my facial muscles and laughing, the familiar expression reminded me of the scene of teaching my dad to use QQ, the unique warmth of a small family.
to love.
Worry about first love and ten years old photos in the closet. I like people who are nostalgic, because I am also stubborn and unable to accept new things. Anything goes from rough to pebbles only with the baptism of time, people, maybe things. To Doreen, he has always exuded an infinite sense of security, some not, and asked to take it according to the order. But he never mentioned love until the last letter. But I could see how much he cared. The way he was trying to eat in the hospital suddenly made me a little hurt. I knew he was working hard, trying to live and loving, even though the way was still calm.
he she. A beginning without a beginning, an end without an end.
They like to smile, they both have shallow dimples, they don't speak much, but they remember each other deeply. I like girls who are infatuated and old, with long hair and little willfulness.
When their eyes met in the playground (I counted his four eyes unkindly), a newcomer behind him wore a snow-white wedding dress, and then passed them by, I knew that this would definitely be an ending. ending.
He told her not-so-scary ghost stories, and I noticed that the first time she pulled him, it was so natural. Then she faced her sleeping senior one day and repeated it slowly, reviewing every sentence, with an unconscious smile.
She left him letters when she couldn't find him. While crying and breaking the glass, I began to struggle with life and death.
to photos.
There are many things in the film. The album also has old photos. The old ones have light gray memories.
The most moving is when he took a portrait of himself at the end. Calmly comb, calmly open the camera. Then sit down a little nervously. With the thin voice of the countdown, he seemed to silently recall something, and then the corners of his mouth slowly changed and raised. When the lens freezes, there are shallow arcs. Sure enough, he is still a man who is suitable for smiling until death.
I love all the little details in it. For example, he used a clear teacup to slowly clean the pen before replying, or at the playground she wiped and pulled the tab before handing him a drink.
"I know very well that the feeling of love will fade, just like the old photos. But you will always be in my heart, forever beautiful, until the last moment of my life. Thank you, goodbye."
There are no scenes of crying, not even the so-called parting.
One o'clock in the morning. I saw the last sentence of the ending for the second and a half times today. His last letter to her.
When I read it and write it down, I burst into tears.
They never saw each other in the end. I don't know is a pity. Still an ending that should have happened.
I found it. A story that can move me.
Thinking of his English name "X'mas in August", I figured out the last Christmas song
I suddenly remembered a man who spent Christmas in New Zealand in the summer
and a memory of the sea
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