It's been a long time since I wrote a movie review :)
"Rise Up": The self-confession of a good citizen
In China, you can call me A; in Europe, you can call me B; now in South Africa, the black man who talks to you is Patrick Chamo Sow.
I am definitely a good citizen. In the Sekunda area where I live and work, if you say on the street that Patrick is a terrorist - that's what the white colonists put together for those who rebelled against their tyranny, anti-terrorism, how high-sounding, how righteous, All adversaries are labeled as terrorists, whether it is an ideological battle or a battle of the gods, it can be smoothly transformed into a battle between violence and anti-violence, terror and anti-terrorism - as long as people who are slightly familiar with me All will think that you are joking; or that you are drinking too much; or that you are a lunatic.
I work as a foreman in a big oil refinery, it's a decent job, and I have a good income, plus I work part-time as a coach of a youth football team in my spare time, enough to support my beautiful wife, two lovely daughters, I 's mother. A luxurious life is not something that people like me can imagine. I just caught a glimpse of those luxurious furniture in the shopping mall, and my wife's eyes suddenly burst into a fiery force, which made me feel inexplicably uneasy.
Anxiety finally turned into a real plague, not because of the betrayal caused by my wife's yearning for extravagant life, in any case, she loved me. Rather - I have to sigh at the absurdity of fate - that night, the refinery exploded, and I happened to be on sick leave, and the most troublesome thing was that the sick note turned out to be fake.
I have to tell you the truth: that day, the football team I led reached the finals. As a coach, I should persevere to the end. Who can guarantee that this group of children who are talented enough to embroider with their left foot will not What about another Eto'o or Drogba?
In the end, we were victorious, and it was getting late. I remembered a friend nearby and went to visit her. Hey, I should be more frank, she is my old lover, but we haven't seen each other for a long time, I think she is not a relapse, but she is raising my son after all.
I admit, my morals are filthy, but a slit the size of an ant in an egg can attract swarms of flies? A small misalignment of time can change the course of life? What is it that created my prison and the suffering of punishment? What caused me to degenerate from a careful and good citizen who even my mother listened to the radio of the African National Congress at night (equivalent to the "Voice of America" listened to by the Chinese at the same time) The soldier or thug who dropped the refinery without even blinking an eye? Destiny, or Nick Voss?
Nick Voss, the white police officer who ruled us, the head of the anti-terrorist organization, I will never forget him. At first it was because of resentment against him, and later, it was a kind of confusion. He's not a bad guy, he's a gentleman compared to the drunken or janitor-like white rulers. He's also a good father, I went to his house for lunch, and like me, he has two lovely daughters. Well, his wife is more virtuous and kind. You can see the harmony of his family. He arrested me, tortured me, pressed me, just doing his job.
This is the question I kept thinking about in that small island prison: Is Nick Voss responsible for the persecution I suffered, for the disaster I caused, or is he as guilty as I am? If so, how should he bear the burden of being imprisoned for so many years like me? If he's a blatant bad guy, that's fine, I'm easy to judge. But he is not, but it is judged that this is a crime of the system, a crime of history, who will endorse it and who will pay for it?
Later I read Eichmann's book by Ms. Hannah Arendt, who was sentenced to death for serving the Nazis, and she said that the evils of totalitarianism are usually not extreme but utterly unimaginative and prosaic , one cannot gain any diabolical, murderous depth from Eichmann. This claim has sparked intense controversy. Critics argue that Arendt has a misunderstanding of totalitarianism. Perhaps, as a political philosopher, Arendt lacks a touch of ruthlessness. However, the concept of "banal evil" has broadened the vast space for interpretation and adaptation: those mediocre people may not know that they are doing evil. In order to distinguish between good and evil, they are only the screws of instrumentalism under the autocratic machine. In the end, those autocrats who are full of evil have scattered, leaving a bunch of mediocre people to bear the responsibility of history. Is this fair? Will the new world based on this be any better?
But I firmly believe that even if the mediocre does not know the meaning of evil, and regards doing evil as a biological instinct as making love, he will still be responsible for it. Because I also firmly believe that tyranny can never change the foundation of human nature, it can only change the shape and weight of evil. So, to those mediocre people who are parasitic under the big mac machines of evil and play the role of screws, please ask yourselves: when you are doing evil - you can justify it, it is your job - what is in your heart , is there a hint of shame, a hint of remorse?
Nick Voss apparently didn't. I looked him straight in the eyes, and there was a kind of firmness and indifference lurking in his eyes as a spokesman for justice. In other words, he does not think that the system he serves is evil. This is a persistent problem in the hearts of political doctors from so-called liberal democracies. When they are placed in the context of poverty, backwardness and autocracy, they will involuntarily incarnate. Angel of justice, sure that he will bring sunshine of goodness. When he took me into a cell, when he tortured me to extract a confession, when he started to do both hard and soft, when he took me on a field trip, when he used my wife and my family as coercion, forcing me to shout, "That's all I did. Yes", even though I didn't do anything, when... In the end, he let me go, because he confirmed my innocence, he was complacent about his justice - there was never the slightest hesitation in his eyes these days.
Once again he proved to his colleagues his shrewdness, his near-prophetic judgment. And I, an innocent person, suffered a few pounds in vain. The wounds on the body have been numb, but the wounds on the heart are difficult to heal for the rest of their lives, and the endless drops of blood are spreading in pain like wasted time. The wife who knew the truth no longer trusted me, and the family was ruined like this. I walked into my mother's room at night and turned up the ANC broadcast she was overhearing, the clanging and powerful declarations of battle like winter waves crashing against the reefs of my heart, my clouded soul. Goodbye my cowardice and humility. Goodbye my past. Goodbye my home.
That's how I said goodbye to my life as a good citizen.
I am not an excellent fighter, nor am I an anti-tyranny hero worthy of everyone's support. About my combat career? The moment I pulled the detonator off, I recalled the good old days of hard work in the refinery. But I know that time will never go back, and it is impossible for me to step into that happy river again. Even after a few years, I walked out of the prison, regained my freedom, and became a good citizen again. The sky and grassland are still the same, the mundane hawking sounds are still the same, the nodes of the demon drum are still the same, the smell of burning grass in the hot summer is still the same, and my heart is like a broken side. Mirrors, cracks can be dissolved, but pain is difficult to get rid of. While resisting evil, I personally participated in the regeneration of evil. The greatest poison of evil is that even those rebels who think they occupy justice cannot escape the erosion of evil.
When I understood this, it was when I reunited with Nick Voss that even though I could only see his back in the distance, I was sure it was him. At that moment, I remembered a lot, the humiliation, regret, the broken door of life, the broken glory and dream... I had an urge to kill him, however, a voice grew from the bottom of my heart: forgiveness, forgiveness. Not to forgive him, but to forgive myself.
Without me punishing him, or even punishing him with the law, fate has done it. He is old. Gray hair in the wind symbolizes outdated authority. The greatest opponent of all power in the world is time.
The film featuring me was translated as "Catch a Fire", an exaggerated mistranslation. I need to reiterate that from good people to warriors or thugs, it's just by chance, and that chance is less than if you win ten million in the lottery. I refuse to publicize the so-called righteousness, I just want to be a good citizen.
But there is still a inevitability hidden here: tyranny often makes you want to be a good citizen but cannot.
...
The time has come, it's time for me to hit the road, this year's barbecue business is really good, hey boy, I heard that the price of your pork has gone up again? What, people who can't afford pork learn from me and start burning the police building? ...
July 5, 2008 in Ningbo
View more about Catch a Fire reviews
