Why, the comedy written in the film review always strikes me with a subtle indescribable pain.
First of all, Louis Garrel is typical of my favorite That type. There is an irresistible lethality in his lost eyes. He reminds me of Jean Pierre Leaud. The scene where the three of them are reading books in bed makes me think of Truffaut's married life hilariously.
I didn't like the story itself, until Julie's accidental or deliberate death.
Those laughter, the truth behind the free and easy, the unbearable pain in life, all began to have weight. That kind of confusion that only lowered his brows and raised his heart.
What is healthier and more powerful in this world, it may be a young heart that dares to love, hate, and hurt.
The film ends with the phrase m'aime moins mais m'aime longtemps. How unbearable it is, I still don't like this story very much, but those emotions, everyone who has experienced absurd youth, may have a chance to experience it. Some of the pain is so painful that we can only use dizziness and lethargy to treat badly.
Those street scenes, the tall buildings of Montparnasse. The cemetery is just behind Boulevard Raspail. And that neon "petit" that stabbed Ismale.
There are some bed shots, the purity of young bodies, blindness. Wash my body with your kisses. Those penetrating lyrics.
This is a movie that at most one in ten people will like. The director is very good at creating atmosphere, those human-to-human relationships that are a little ironic, a little lighthearted but very real.
Memory is our burden and our treasure.
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