In the movie, the deepest impression is a brisk, somewhat comical piece of music, like a violin. The music tells the absurdities and paradoxes of life in a comical tone. It was while watching the movie that I first learned about the humor in Milan Kundera's long-standing novels. It was the music that made me look at this novel from such a high place for the first time. In Kundera, both Rabelais and Kafka are masters of humor, and those who elevate the absurdity of life to the comic are the great novelists.
The most powerful part of the film is that it captures the musical sense of the novel. I am sure that Kundera, like a composer, treats a chapter of the novel as a movement to create. When his sense of rhythm and melody was presented in the film, I was in awe of the director. As for the color, I just remember the white fog full of hints, is it chaos or the moist and fresh air? Contain Trisha and Thomas Smile. Maybe, and the expression, and the ripples Tereza made in the water and in Thomas' heart when she jumped into the water. . .
At the end of the film, when Trisha and Thomas finally find the intersection of their so-called happy lives—the country—and while they dance and smile and indulge, fate (a novelist's sense of humour) begins again. A joke, they just smiled and disappeared into a thick white fog.
When death, pronounced by Sabina's mouth, the cruelty dissipated for the most part, the absurdity reached its peak.
We laugh, or we should cry, and then life, or sense of humor, is more resilient than the sky we can look up to.
Trisha's weight, Thomas' light, and Grandpa Sabina's hat and her American cottage by the sea, all on my shoulders.
So I want to pay tribute to Haizi:
from tomorrow, I will be a happy person,
feed horses, chop wood, travel around the world,
from tomorrow onwards, take care of food and vegetables
I have a house, facing the sea, spring flowers bloom
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