The Chinese literal translation of "Away from her" doesn't look like the title of a movie: "Away from her"? Or "leave her"? Although it's clear and straight to the point, it's as top-heavy as an unwritten punctuation. As for why the film was translated into "The Willows and Flowers", whether it is really appropriate, and I don't want to explore it any more, because of the charm of various languages and the inability to communicate with each other, it is all inadvertently here.
The willows are dark and the flowers are bright, it sounds roundabout and tactful, as if facing a new realm of life, many beautiful things come to you like flowers and willows. . . actually not. It is really a new realm of life, but it is by no means beautiful. It is cloudy and foggy, the road ahead is vast, snow flakes are coming, and there is nowhere to go.
At the beginning of the film, the ground is covered with white snow, and behind the ice field is the misty spruce, the hut, and the long sled leaves deep ruts in the snow, like the imprint of life. The figure of the two slowly walking away along the rut. . . Everything is silent, everything is coming to an end. "Life and death are bound together, and we grow old together with our sons", this poetic picture has precipitated the beautiful color of ice and snow on a quiet winter day.
It's an uncharacteristic, old-age love story. A vast expanse of emptiness rose from memory. . . Covering the sky, it gradually became a terrible barrier for beautiful love and loyalty vows. Away, away from her...Misty, at the end of life, life is embarrassingly fragile, all good things can be so vulnerable. . . "In many diseased brains, blood clots collect and tangle in the network of nerve cells, preventing the cells from transporting outward. The nerve tangle in a specific location determines which functions of the brain are compromised." Just like the lights in the log cabin standing deep in the jungle, one by one, the lights went out. . . It melted into the darkness around it, lost touch with the world. The wasteland of memory expands little by little, swallowing life, emotion and love little by little.
If the idea is gone, everything is gone. "I think I'm starting to disappear," Fiona told her husband. The loving couple who have supported each other for 50 years have lived together in this beautiful forest cabin since their husband Grant retired from college 20 years ago. The quiet old age is now completely disrupted by his wife Fiona's growing amnesia, when the kitchen drawers start to be covered with little labels with various names; Yes, when she shoved it into the fridge after a moment of hesitation; when she went skiing alone and forgot to come home. . . The increasingly serious fact that they had to face - Fiona suffering from Alzheimer's disease. After tossing and turning, they finally made a heavy decision and sent Fiona to the Lake District Nursing Home for treatment. Despite being a caring husband, Grant hesitated to make this final decision. "We can't go looking for what we like, all we want is to try to handle things as decently as possible, can't we? Darling," Fiona persuaded her husband, "I'm just leaving for a while.
" Before this, I had never seen a film that reflected the life scenes of two elderly people from beginning to end, either because of the distance of time, it was difficult to understand the world; Vitality, youth and beauty are missing and drifting away, so you can't bear to see them? Ageing is always sad, especially when I see Grant's age-worn face. On the screen, his sluggish steps, his face full of wind and frost, and his slack cheeks. . . A man's Christmas after his wife's departure, the silent forest. . . When the two elderly people were lying on the bed of the nursing home, hugging each other like two unkempt brown bears, the last moment of farewell was indescribably mixed. I think it is because from birth to death, life is constantly heading towards its destined end. Therefore, birth, old age, sickness and death are always a fact that no one can avoid.
Maybe 30 days of separation really doesn't mean much to a long marriage of 44 years? Maybe. On the first family visit 30 days after being admitted to the hospital (the strange rules of the nursing home), Grant is shocked to find that Fiona has completely forgotten about him, and, even more embarrassingly, she seems to have fallen in love with living with him Aubrey, another patient in a nursing home. Many long shots in the movie pass through the naturally lit corridor of the nursing home, and through that corridor is the back of Fiona walking away silently. She went away, pushing another strange man in a wheelchair; she went away, putting on a tacky yellow coat that she would never normally wear. Yes, she doesn't recognize anyone else and she doesn't recognize herself. Away from her, standing in the distance is her husband who has accompanied her all his life, and he looks at her back. . . How should I describe that sad look? How to describe it?
"At that time, we waited for the boat together. She suddenly said, will it be fun for us to get married?"
"Then what did you say?"
"I picked her up all at once!"
"I can't leave her for a moment," said the beautiful Fiona's image rises from a lake of memory, "She is the spark in my life..."
44 years later, his dear wife Fiona still retains that beauty, she is slender, graceful, Sweet and slightly edgy, even today with severe Alzheimer's. . .
Grant told the nurses at the hospital about their past. "You know what? When I heard myself tell this story, it felt so cruel. I didn't realize until recently that all of that, compared to what we both ended up with, was so insignificant!"
Grant visited Fiona again and again with her rare bouquet and her beloved book, wanting to wake her up from her slumbering memories, just as an old prince wants to wake up an old princess in exchange. (We never care what the old prince and the old princess are doing in fairy tales, and the story always ends up in their mysterious and inviolable primordial state that they receded in their prime. Because we are born to fear Speaking of aging...) But Fiona treats her husband as a secretary or librarian at a nursing home, and she can't do anything about it. After Aubrey, the patient Fiona fell in love with, was taken home by his wife, Fiona suffered a heavy blow to her spirit. She did not speak, move, or smile. She was transferred as a critically ill patient. The second floor area of the nursing home.
All contradictions and astringency are gathered at the node of this time. When Grant, in desperation, drove to Aubrey's house to ask his wife for help, begging her to send Aubrey back to the nursing home; when Aubrey's wife asked him for a little affection and a moment of amusement I felt the same struggle in my heart as Grant. . . She turned him down first, and if she sent her husband Aubrey back, she wouldn't be able to afford her current house, which was the only last thing she had. She finally agreed later, saying, "If I could take it easy, you could pretend, and you could do what you want..." (She's also a poor lonely old man, and I don't think that Hate her.) He finally did what he wanted and she ended up selling her beloved house too. . . He put Aubrey back in the nursing home. In the face of the ruthless reality, even Grant, whose mental state is intact, has to admit that love and loyalty are always limited, because he and Fiona eventually changed from lovers to strangers, because in order to do their best At the same time as the responsibility of loving his lover, he had to be a person who violated his oath. . . It turns out that without memory, a seemingly unbreakable long-term marriage relationship can disappear.
For God's mercy, on the day Grant sent Aubrey back to the nursing home, Fiona woke up from her slumbering memories. Perhaps this sobriety was only momentary.
"I remember, you read this book to me. You want me to be happy. You work so hard...you're a lovely person, and I'm a happy woman."
She walked over to him and caressed his old face, "Leave me and see what I can think of? Abandon me...abandon!"
"Never again," he said softly. . .
The two hugged tightly.
The willows are dark and the flowers are bright, this name may be aimed at this last moment. Love, going through wind and frost, and the passage of time, often fail to achieve positive results, because of how fragile life itself is. In a desperate race against time and memory, it is still selfless emotion that competes. Grant endured the pain in his heart to send Aubrey back to Fiona. In front of the glittering love precipitated in this slightly flawed winter, what should we choose to remember, and what should we forget?
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