He happily got up and left, and while admiring the screams coming from behind, he turned the car's key ring with his index finger, circle after circle. It seems that his ability to control the fate of himself and others with ease is condensed and sublimated in this small action.
This kind of complacency strikes me inexplicably, and I don't understand why this "Lincoln Lawyer" has such an excellent reputation on the Internet. The male protagonist was a scolded bastard before, and as long as he could make a lot of money, he could defend the murderer. He repeatedly stressed that his creed was to keep the innocent out of jail, as if it would free the guilty.
This time he finally punished a murderer, and his heart is full of satisfaction in maintaining justice. When the gang boss came to him again and asked him to defend his partner who sold drugs and race cars, and hoped for some friendship discounts, he said cheerfully: "I'll give you free this time." He turned around and told the driver, "Next time I'll charge him twice as much. Money." He laughs with the driver, like pranksters. This is really funny, they think they can feel at ease by doing one thing in line with their conscience?
However, the return of the prodigal son is a timeless weight. I don't know if this is the true preference of the audience, or whether the taste has been kidnapped by the screenwriter and director over the years. It has developed its own fixed routine: first, it shows that the protagonist is sassy, suave, stylish, and has no shortcomings except for his bad character and scolding; in one third, he suffered a crisis of belief, and he has since questioned the previous He lives his life, and is repeatedly entangled between the existing values and conscience; two-thirds of the conscience finally overcomes the interests, the protagonist learns to respect others and incarnates a perfect image, and the audience can cheer up and down.
Similar stories are everywhere. For example, in "In the Clouds" not long ago, George Clooney preached the values of freedom for most of his life, but was easily defeated by a love, and felt the same loneliness as ordinary people. Earlier, there were the cigarette sellers in "Thanks for Smoking", and the successful lawyers who lied in "The King of Big Talk"... Their common feature is that after a major setback, they finally decided to be serious. live. And then—and here’s the fun part—Fate is willing to take it seriously, and the protagonist is at peace and well-being. This is too much like Grimm's fairy tales.
Compared with these hypocritical imaginations, I am more willing to believe that the Coen Brothers' "Serious Men" tells the truth of life: the protagonist always lives with a serious attitude, but life refuses to treat him with the same attitude. After all kinds of bizarre misfortunes, he endured, prayed, tried to get out, and asked the Rabbi to ask for help, but he never got gratifying results.
Life is unknowable, it's not about how you deal with it. If you treat each other with kindness, you may not get good results. There is another set of rules for the operation of the world. Maybe it's more, "My lover gave me a gold watch; what did she give back: sweat medicine. I've turned my face and ignored me from now on, and somehow made me nervous." How, is no longer in control.
Perhaps that's why protagonists who seem to be in control are always so popular. Because he helps you to have a big dream, in the fantasy world of drunken money fans, you can live a dry addiction, chew a handful of popcorn, and substitute for the omnipotent and invigorating feeling, that's all.
The stories that reveal the truth are embarrassing, like telling a child about the emperor without clothes, adults avoid it. It is very likely that you spend two hours, and the biggest gain is to realize the ridiculousness and powerlessness of your own situation, and even lose the courage to face tomorrow for a while. For example, after watching "Mary and Marx", I still think of Marx shivering on the bench in the corner from time to time, and I'm in a cold sweat.
But even if I am terrified, I am still grateful for these insightful films. Like good literature, they tell you about the many aspects of human nature and the many possibilities of the world, and they also help you question the usual and unchangeable things. Through them, rather than always relying on our own experience, we have increased our ways of coping with life as we face it, being able to accommodate people and events that are very different from our expectations, and not being caught off guard by certain events.
Taking any of the above as a standard, films like "Lincoln Attorney" are probably not up to the standard - it at best validates our false optimism.
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