The soulful woman is never chatter, she must be deep and silent. It is the solemnity that relies on the energy nourished by the whole body to compete with the disturbance of the world, and still refuses to explain it to the end. In Il ya longtemps que je t'aime (Il ya longtemps que je t'aime), director Claudel constructed the entire plot with Juliette's own killing of her six-year-old son as the deepest secret, which is avoided under any circumstances. Events frame Juliette's present moment to the fullest, her understanding of the world, the people around her, and how it works. And death, the death given by one's own hands, in which its absolute desperation, which rejects dialectics, becomes an insoluble and unusable field, imprisoning a woman's soul. To a certain extent, the distance Juliette maintains from the world is the source of her strength that she will never forget, so she finally has to decide: how can silent mother love resist the forgetting that comes from trivial tenderness? When the unspeakable mother's love is complete and full of tension in a closed inner space, how can it endure the loose tenderness that it merges with the vast world?
Very typical french film. Looking at the world through the eyes of Kristin Scott Thomas, the world is neither chaotic nor frivolous. People and objects are solemn and contemplative. Juliette's situation made me try to understand Zhou Guoping and his Niu Niu again, the parents who I never forgave deprived their children of their lives for all kinds of aesthetic reasons. Innocent, they face the greatest punishment that a child's death can give. The guilt of forgetting is so deep that they cannot face each other.
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