The film is autobiographical.
We can be sure that every artist's success stems from his unhappy childhood.
The war took away relatives, and the moment when his father died was repeated in his imagination countless times. And his mother's doting on his only son made him at a loss.
In the film, images of flowers appear several times. Flowers have always appeared as symbols of the genitals, and the fight between the two flowers is full of sexual undertones. And the flower has turned into a monster, with sharp fangs and a graceful female figure.
Everyone's attitude towards sex can be traced back to his childhood.
Does his mother's doting bring him hatred of women? In his fantasies, the showy flowers represent the female genitalia, and he ultimately loses in the fight, being tightly surrounded by the opponent and devoured. The sex scenes and rape scenes that are constantly interspersed in it release the depression of life.
The dialogue during watching the film is as follows:
Female A: This film tells the growth process of an unreliable young man.
Female B: The first part is performance art, the latter part is installation art. (The protagonist puts them back after smashing everything in the house)
Female C: Fuck, how many ecstasy pills did you eat!
This 1982 film shocked me more than any previous film.
Everyone grows up feeling confused and overwhelmed. A lot of times we don't know how to express it, but The Wall does it well.
It's a huge MTV. There is no complete dialogue, some are just hallucinations. He searches for the meaning of life in hallucinations.
And those squirming bugs. The moment I saw them, I felt like they were in my head, squirming.
Devil. Bugs are demons incarnate. They burrow into our brains, trying to tame us.
Many times I wonder if the world is a huge illusion, and we only exist in someone's imagination, and our long civilization is just a moment in his mind.
If you think too much, you will see that no one is right, and feel that everyone is just like a clear smoke, if I want, I can wear them at any time.
In the first half of the year, I listened to Pinker to and fro one night, and at two o'clock in the middle of the night, I texted an artistic young man who introduced Pinker to me. My text says: Pink is the greatest band in the world.
The artistic youth texted back ten seconds later: Go!
Then I slept contentedly.
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