The Undertaker is the best of the few Japanese movies I've seen, and to sum it up in one phrase, Kobayashi is a melancholy artist.
Xiao Lin's father was also punished by his mistress for leaving him because of his behavior of abandoning his wife and children. How ironic. He hasn't heard from him for many years, maybe it's just that he has no face to face his wife and children and wants to use the rest of his life to atone for his sins.
He was not alone, because he waited for his son to see him off.
In fact, Xiaolin loves his father. The uneven stone that his father had given him had been wrapped in newspaper and kept in Kobayashi's piano case. He just completely defuses the resentment that he has left unnoticed about his father for 30 years. Until the time of the funeral for my father, when I saw that the sleek little white stone was tightly held in the hands of Xiao Lin's father,
tears welled up in my eyes along with the rhythm of the film. Just Kobayashi, calmer than me.
Indulging in the melodious cello, I also seem to be able to wake up my childhood memories from Kobayashi's memories.
Compared with Xiaolin, I am happy.
When I was a child, I was clamoring to learn Erhu because of curiosity. Mom and Dad couldn't resist but I finally agreed. In order for me to study well, my father always wakes me up and takes me to the park to practice when the sky is dawn. I always sit on the back seat of my father's bicycle with the erhu in my arms, catering to the approving eyes of the morning exercise old man along the way. .
The mountain in the park is the most suitable place to practice. Every time my father helps me set up the music stand and watch me practice. Dad didn't know how to play the violin, but he could tell if I was playing seriously. Every time I came back from practice, my dad would always reward me with a delicious roadside pastry, and then tell me to walk to school on my own. It is because of my father that I have been practicing for six years. At that time, I thought that there was no time to study extracurricular interest classes in junior high school. For this, I even gave up sketching for six years. Although it may not be easy to pick up the erhu now, when you touch the strings, you can always feel that it is a heart-to-heart trembling that warms your whole body.
The park today is no longer the park it
used to be, but my father and I are still the father and daughter who had a tacit understanding.
Dad has turned black, and Dad has grown old,
but Dad's love has never deteriorated.
Such an obscure and slowly flowing love, I have time to cherish it.
I haven't been to a funeral home, and I haven't seen an undertaker in my life. I haven't experienced it and I'm not qualified to comment on such a heavy topic.
I have been unable to bear the memory of leaving my loved ones.
My aunt, who loved me the most, left after suffering from illness. When I was on the road, I was even thinking about how to brew a relationship. Because as early as when I got her diagnosis of terminal stage, I hugged my mother and cried happily. In the days that followed, in order to hide the illness of the eldest aunt, everyone pretended to be nothing in front of her. After a long time like this, I have gradually become numb. Sometimes I find that I will slowly wipe away tears in the middle of the night. That is a necessary emotional catharsis. Then I finally saw her, the already skinny aunt was more shriveled and bony because of the illness, with a pale face, deep dark circles under the eyes, too thin and high protruding cheekbones, and a painful facial expression. Grim. Tears welled up in my eyes consciously, and I couldn't bear to take a second look. I didn't have a wake-up call, so I used a brush to write a memorial ceremony on rice paper, and the silk birthday cloths, large and small, were neatly arranged.
I will never forget that night.
Death may be a door,
passing away not the end, but beyond to the next step.
Just like the door,
I as a janitor, have
sent many people away here,
saying be careful on the road, and we will see you again.
Although the mortician's words are very reasonable, in the face of death , I still can't be so calm. Calmly like a mortuary.
There is a real meaning in this, and I have forgotten the words if I want to distinguish it.
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