The computer is playing Yanni's performance in the Acropolis that C recommended before. The last time I listened to it was the CD I bought in high school. Only the light of the computer screen remained. The bad mood recently, finally calmed down a little.
In fact, I wasn't particularly moved, probably because Wong Kar-wai was repeating himself, maybe because I wasn't enough to shock me with this kind of drama.
Of course it's not bad, it's obviously Wong Kar Wai's style, the style I like. Only, this time there is more sunlight and the colors are richer. Watching foreign faces express Wang's style of sullenness, depression, tears and petty bourgeoisie under the tutelage of Wong Kar Wai.
In addition to the stunning handsome face, body, and curly hair, Jude Law's strong British accent is still so attractive. "Closer" is the movie I've seen the most, and I have to watch it again and again.
There are many love stories.
He kept a jar of keys and stories of all kinds of strangers. I even doubt that the stories of those boys, girls and old women are real or made up by him. He was holding a bunch of keys waiting for the girl's return, in fact he didn't know if she would come back. He is alone, watching the daily video alone, alone guarding the blueberry pie that no one ordered. After proofing, I smoke my own cigarette outside the door, day after day.
She was angry, she yelled at the phone, she looked at the figure in the upstairs window and wiped her tears, she said I wanted to talk to someone, cry, eat, and then fell asleep. She parked her car in a random town, worked day and night in restaurants, bars, and casinos, and managed the insomnia that began to improve one day. Every day, she had the same specific purpose - saving enough money to buy a car. She always wrote him postcards and told him about her life. Someone asked why not to call, and she said that certain things are better on paper.
I remember her narration that night: How do you say goodbye to someone you can't imagine living without? I didn't say goodbye. I didn't say anything. I just walked away.
Then the policeman who drank every night said it was the last drink every day, but he threw out a pile of white chips. He was determined to quit drinking countless times, but no matter what, he couldn't give up and let go of her heart. He threw cruel words, but couldn't shoot, just stared blankly at the fiery red back who slammed away at her. In the end, commit suicide to free yourself.
She separated from him, she begged him to let her go. She accepted everyone's disdainful eyes, and made a toast to let everyone not forget him. She sat in the place where she met for the first time, talking about the encounter that day. She was still wearing a black dress, fresh and quiet, paid the bills he left behind, and left the town that died in her heart.
She is a high roller in the casino, with extraordinary courage, discerning eyes, and extraordinary card skills. She lost to luck, and she put on the sports car and still had to let it go. She doesn't trust anyone and resists her father who loves her, the man who taught her card skills and distrust since childhood. She lied to her, maybe she was just lonely and didn't want to go on the road alone. She cried bitterly in the ward where her father died, drove her to steal his car, and her distrust of everyone became his last gift to her. I think she hated him, hated him for teaching her to never trust anyone, even herself.
Back to the beginning, she bought a car and drove back to New York a year later. She said, I decided to take the longest way to cross the street. So it took a year. Use this year to forget about the self you don't like, and use this year to see if someone is really waiting for you across the street.
But she was still the same as a year ago, full of food and fell asleep on the table, with ice cream on her lips, the blueberry pie he prepared for her and the ice cream she ate. He was on the other side of the table, just as he was a year ago, leaning over, leaning in, blocking the overhead lights, and kissing the ice cream on her lips.
This time, she reached out her hand, held his head, and responded.
View more about My Blueberry Nights reviews
