In the afternoon, I went to see the last two Bergman performances, the first was "Cries and Whispers", and the
second was my beloved "Autumn Sonata".
The mother and daughter, who had been separated for seven years, faced each other for the first time in their lives. The
daughter asked her mother why she was so indifferent, why she used her abnormal spiritual power to control her and transform her, and
asked why the mother's pain became the daughter's pain, A mother's failure becomes a daughter's failure.
I couldn't control the tears streaming down my face, if it wasn't for the strangers around me,
I would cry out loud.
In the evening, I went to eat fish in sour soup with Mr. Hai, her girlfriend and the car.
On the way, we talked about our childhood past, the setting and transformation of our parents,
those cruel and impersonal past events that we thought we had forgotten but actually did not.
I'm talking about my dad who made me feel so inferior for so many years, and
I had to work hard to overpay in every relationship because my dad made me think that
I was deeply in love with an older person because he petted him Drowning me, admiring me, almost unconditionally,
deep down in my heart, he made up for my father's shortcomings.
And I, no longer dare to love older people, but
give what I want to a young boy, which is exactly what I yearn for, and I will never get it.
Yes, we haven't forgotten anything.
In front of her powerful mother, Liv Uman, even though she was an adult woman,
still returned to the state of a little girl who was at a loss, waiting to be criticized.
In front of the movie, in front of the past,
I suddenly found that I had become a child who had no choice or shouting, and
could only let the tears wash away the deep grievances and the depression that I thought I had forgotten.
PS: I just read a letter written to me, which contains a passage from Ge Fei,
I think it is just for today's movie and mood to annotate:
...I think of the endless field of purple vetch flowers under the sun.
Suppose that a solitary neem tree stands in the flower field; suppose that the shadow of a cloud covers it.
Looking at this shadow, Yao Peipei made a wish in her heart and closed her eyes.
No matter how Yao Peipei struggled, that shadow would never go away because it was engraved in her heart.
Why is my heart dark, but the sun is shining on other people's faces?
This is Yao Peipei's problem as well as mine.
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