Jumping between tradition and modernity, light and shadow and lines, the director's aesthetic complex is vividly displayed. It's just that I can't accept this film. Writing on the human body, no matter how delicate the skin is and how pure the ink is, always feels a little disgusting. Of course, Qing Shao Nayan, the author of "Pillow Grass", has a feeling for paper, ink and brush that is hard to give up, and Nuozi's hobby of being written and written in "Forbidden Books by the Pillow" is also reasonable. It's just that Xiao Nuozi was scribbled with ink on her face by her father, what is her happiness? When she grows up, why is she so persistent in finding calligraphers who are willing to write on her, and why does she get pleasure from being written and written again and again? The thirteen volumes of the book of the human body were really shocking to me.
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