Yet don't know where to start. Just to enrich the content is easy: every farewell experienced by the funeral director Kobayashi Dawu has a different way of arriving and touching his heart - a housewife who has worked hard all her life, a troubled girl in an accidental car accident, and a transgender who is finally understood by her elders. A young man, an old grandfather who died with a hickey, a grandmother who opened a bathhouse for everyone for decades, and finally his own father who can't remember his face and left his wife and children. There are also his violin and music, his nostalgia for his parents, the ups and downs of his relationship with his wife, the evolution of himself and those around him from shame to respect for this profession. The understanding and feeling in each fragment and each clue can be described in detail, and it can become a complete long article.
But that would never be a good article to match the movie. And too tired.
I'm just thinking about something. For example, when my grandmother died, I looked at the silent and peaceful remains in the mourning hall where there would be no more joy or suffering. Then I followed the funeral procession to the crematorium, and watched the coffin be pushed into the furnace along the chute, with red flames blazing. Suddenly, it jumped up and engulfed. A person who was once close and alive will disappear like this. But I couldn't do what many relatives did, and it seemed like it should be according to the custom. I cried out and squatted back and forth. When I was ten years old, I just couldn't stop the tears from my eyes, and I couldn't make a sound. I will think of her good times one after another, and then regret my ignorance and naughty.
It seems that what is read from the faces of the living at those many moments of death in the movie boils down to similar feelings. It's just that everyone will have everyone's love and sin, gratitude and regret.
I especially remember that at the end of the first official funeral ceremony that the president Sasaki led Kobayashi (and the most complete one in which the camera showed the solemn and focused work of the funeral director), the very impatient male host knelt down on the coffin and put on light makeup. Afterwards, the body of the wife, who was different from the two, suddenly burst into tears and said, "Today is the most beautiful time I have ever seen her."
When it came to the last burial ceremony presented in the film, as we expected, Kobayashi personally burial for his lonely father under the watchful eyes of his wife. Tears fell from drop to line, and the face that had been blurred in my mind for decades finally became clear.
...It's always until the last time before a person disappears that I realize that I've never watched it like this before.
There is a signature file in Guanghua, which reads:
"There are many things in this world, you think you can continue to do them tomorrow; there are many people, you think you can meet again. So, when you temporarily let go , or when you turn around temporarily, all you have in your heart is the hope that tomorrow will be reunited again, and sometimes you don't even feel this hope. Because, you think that since the days come and go like this, of course you should Day by day like this. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, it should be no different. But there will be one time, the moment you let go and turn around, something completely changes. The sun goes down, and it Before re-rising, some people will say goodbye to you forever."
Although it is posted here, the "farewell" at the end of this paragraph does not necessarily mean the separation of yin and yang; what moves me here is the helplessness of the world. Impermanence. When everyone is moved by something, he or she makes an inexplicable or temporarily unsteady determination consciously or subconsciously. Therefore, taking this sentence as an example, it is easy for me to be moved by it. Quietly tell yourself that the world is unpredictable, you must cherish it, cherish what is in front of you, and cherish what you have in your hands at the moment.
As for how to do it, and even after this period of time, whether or not to continue to think like that, is another matter.
But death, especially death of old age, which accounts for the largest proportion, is not what it should be, is it? It is the change of natural laws, the fate of destiny, it is foreseeable at the end of the whole process of life, and it is not impermanent at all. Just like the old man in charge of operating the incinerator said calmly, "Death is a door. As a gatekeeper, I have sent many people away here. I always say be careful on the road, and we will meet again." An old friend who had been with him for many years and who died now, the proprietress of the bathhouse, pushed the door of the stove.
I remembered again "the things that are natural, nothing special, but important". Looking back now, the "Accuracy of Death" I watched in March looked at living humans from the perspective of death, but it was actually a cherishing and kind story about "life". Kind enough to make people feel the reality and heaviness of death. It fills the old woman's heart with wisdom, warm memories, calm contentment and tender emotions before her death, smiles without regrets, and no longer gives the audience the opportunity to reveal the scars of how her children and grandchildren will face when they return. Of course, there is no problem with the starting point-for a life process like death that is "natural and not at all special", it can and should be prepared and greeted predictably; at the same time, as a "but very important thing", The predictable death allowed her to finally do all the cherishing she wanted to accomplish (even emotionally allowing life to triumph over death).
What makes "The Undertaker" so moving and profound is that it is so good that it makes people cry, but it does not rely on romanticism, but is full of contradictions in the real world and tricks of life encounters, sometimes even a little cruel. Once you seriously experience this movie, you will be constantly brought into various propositions and forced to think.
For example, why do you always have to get to the last side of a person before disappearing, only to realize that you have never watched it like this before? The sudden death of each generation is not impermanent at all; each of us has had a long time, and we can cherish it carefully and slowly. The mortuaries, such as Sasaki and Kobayashi, are rigorous, gentle, solemn, and unambiguous in every detail of their work. To complete the last important thing in one's life for others, and at the same time to express the respect and remembrance of the living. In another sense, however, the greatest importance of their work seems to lie in the initial realization that the work is not helpful at this time. And the eyes that were carefully watched during his lifetime are the greatest respect for the deceased.
My emotional and thinking clues finally moved from nostalgia to paradox.
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