I believe that as long as people who are not illiterate have heard of Van Gogh more or less. In fact, this is a sad and absurd thing. It was abandoned and forgotten by the world while alive, but became famous after death. Does this mean that the world wants to make up for their indifference and abandonment of a sincere painter? It's ridiculous. No matter how precious and collectible Van Gogh's paintings are now sold, the Van Gogh that they said has nothing to do with the lonely Van Gogh, he died, he is no longer in this world, he does not I would know that I would never have thought that after many years, he would be picked up by the world to be honored. He just died alone and in despair and no longer exists.
Let's start with the film itself, lust of life - this can sum up Van Gogh's life. The film is structured in sequence, unlike many biopics that use flashbacks, such as "La Viejo", "I'm Not There" and so on. Sequential narration makes the structure of the film simple and smooth, and it is good to be complex and incomprehensible, like a story with deep meaning, short but long, fast and slow. In the strong contrast between the sometimes bright and sometimes gloomy pictures and the continuous music mixed with sadness, sorrow, regret, longing for disappointment, light and dark irony, Van Gogh's short life is laid out, flowing naturally in the image, flowing into the heart, flowing into the past, flow into eternity. Of course, the director did not involve Van Gogh's childhood, but directly started from the 25-year-old Van Gogh's participation in theological preaching. This highlights the key points: Van Gogh's infinite desire for life and the helpless pain of being rejected by the world again and again.
Kirk Douglas portrayed the essence of Van Gogh in three parts, with a slightly squat body, messy red hair, lonely and painful eyes for life and love, and anger and rudeness for life's poverty and unbearableness. Dedicated love for nature and depicting the world in color, loss of self, boredom and despair of the world. But he's not the real Van Gogh, he just gave us a van Gogh-like image
Van Gogh said: I want to be useful, to work, to bring something to the world. This pure and beautiful wish has always stayed in his heart. He volunteered to be a pastor in a poor and dark mining area, and he fantasized about bringing a little warm hope to the people there. He gave everything he had to others, and he was sloppy. He tried his best, but death, poverty and disease were the same as before, and he couldn't change anything. He was disappointed: I got nothing wherever I was, I was trapped in a cage and alone. After this failed love, he was even more depressed. When he came home and saw his cousin, he thought he could seize this beautiful hope, and he sincerely confessed like a child: I need love for myself, love that can be integrated into my life, I want a home, I want Child, I want to take care of you... But she couldn't move her heart, she firmly rejected him: NO, never, never. He was disappointed again, his simple wish was brutally shattered in front of his eyes again, and life was once again dusty, wandering and finding nowhere to settle. The only consolation is to start painting, but painting has cost him the prostitute who lives with him. Loneliness and poverty, life is constantly tossing and turning, going to Paris, living with his younger brother, and continuing to paint, but he regards it as a treasure and others see it as a must. In fact, the common expectation of painters, poets and writers is to hope that their works will be appreciated, although many people brazenly claim that their works are written for themselves and do not care what others think. But no one appreciates the works, which is a dereliction of duty as a person engaged in these professions. So Van Gogh's loneliness and pain also largely stem from this. He longed for Gauguin's friendship because Gauguin was the only one who knew his work. It seems that all living beings have finally found a confidant and can tell each other their hearts. He came to the beautiful Al, and painted Al's wheat fields, buildings, drunk people in taverns, and all the beautiful and hopeful things, the sun, the moonlit night, the starry sky, and the sunflowers, every day with novel eyes and enthusiasm. He paints every day, forgetting the pain that no one appreciates, he just paints and devotes infinite enthusiasm to it. I think this may be the happiest day of his short life. But chaos, poverty, all contradictions remained, he couldn't feed himself, and his loneliness was increasing day by day. Even with Gauguin, it was only a short-lived joy, the illusion of happiness, their frequent quarrels, and finally in the confusion and pain, he cut off his left ear. Gauguin left, leaving him alone. The last hope was also resolutely dashed. He is still painting, painting a self-portrait wrapped in bandages, with a pipe in his mouth, looking into an unknown distance, is there still the pure hope in his eyes?
In 1890, in the wheat field, he painted the golden color, and a group of crows flew towards him, awakening his pain and loneliness. He shot himself.
His life is over.
He longs for a lifetime of life, even if he is pure, kind and upright, even if he always pursues passionately, life still ruthlessly abandons him. During his lifetime, life was cruel and refused to give him more warmth. I don't know how painfully he felt when he cut off his ear and shot himself.
Fortunately, he put all the passion for life into his work, as he said: "My work is my body and soul, for which I risk losing my life and my mind..." Those with strong color and vitality may be the only consolation. At least in the process of creation he is still happy.
View more about Lust for Life reviews
