For history, they are innocent victims, direct witnesses to the atrocities of Jack the Ripper; for Londoners of the same period, they are as lowly as street rats, degrading prostitutes who are better dead than alive; Or, they only symbolize the torture described in those pale words - I don't even remember their names. So, this film for me, or its value, allows me to see those women who have been buried in history, with only names and deaths left.
See how they survived in the dark of London, stooping to pick up the coins thrown by men like alms, spending every day in debt collection, intimidation and contempt and ridicule from others; how they became obsessed with a bunch of grapes , and eventually died under the cold scalpel. No longer just a name, or a pale description of torture. They really existed, in London at the end of the nineteenth century, out of the moonlight. Although humble and hard, still alive, living with nothing.
So when I see Mary talking about her childhood, I feel sad. Yes, she will think and regret it. But life would not allow her to go backwards. Then at least you have to live, and you have the future, no matter what the future is.
So I started to wonder if there was no love between Mary and Inspector Abberline. But it was the first time in her long, dark and decadent life that there was someone who respected her, talked to her on an equal footing, cared about the children she cared about, and even took her to galleries. Even though his ultimate motive was just to investigate the case, even under the bridge he was suspicious of her. She hoped to show him her little village, because he made her feel that she was cared for and respected, and she suddenly had some new hope - her bitter but pure white paper past, and a trace of her new life. hope. And these kinds of feelings, for me, may be gratitude, or something like her only connection to another world. In short, it can be good feelings, but not necessarily love.
She was still a woman, but it became an almost extravagant idea.
The film does something with reality, with a young French woman taking the pain in Mary's place, while she and little Alice start a new life—a life she wants for herself. But it's still a movie after all. The real Mary died tragically in bed, with no hope, no turnaround, not even an Inspector Abberline who gave her a shred of respect. We have no way of knowing everything about her life. Future generations speculate about her story from the cold words, but it only lies in her death. They are all engulfed in history, and that will be the end of all of us one day. Die, be forgotten, be explored, become history, or legend.
View more about From Hell reviews
