We fly like blackbirds through the orange groves,
floating on a warm wind.
When we run, we own the earth.
The land is ours.
We speak the birds' language.
Not immigrant no more.
No stupid Mexicans.
When we run, our spirits fly.
We speak to the gods.
When we run, we are the gods.
The director's picture is very powerful. After the first few white teams won the qualification for the state championship, they cheered and jumped in turn, while the cross-country team was silent for a few seconds when they learned that they won the last ticket, and then the children sighed and smiled, Kneeling down on one knee, holding a group and praying quietly, this contrast of calm can also make people feel that their mood has changed from uneasy to happy. Then the coach took the children who had never seen the sea to the beach. They jumped into the sea and hugged them in a circle, cheering and jumping. The sparkling splashes surrounded the joy they had been suppressing for a moment, and burst out with them through the screen. There was even an urge to cry when I came out. The director's arrangement here is definitely more in line with the role of these children who have low self-esteem for colonial status than making the team members cheer at the moment they know the ranking character.
At the end of the film, the interaction between actors and real people is another small climax. I just want to say to those players who are still running for McFarland: you are cougar!
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