Unfortunately, I have also had such a period of time, as if the last thing left is just a few empty labels, and I will never live a greater life because of these literary and artistic works.
I'm a little scared of the two translations surnamed Jia, one is Jarman and the other is Jarmusu. Many people are right. The biggest feature of Jia's films is the sense of strangeness, which is conveyed by several film names. Technically, the strangeness is mostly done by a camera with not much more tones, music and movement than Ozu.
But what I'm interested in is how that feeling has lingering effects on me.
Comparing several three-part films, Lola Runs Pulp Fiction torrential rain is coming, I have to think that this film makes me nauseous because it is too contrived.
Or, too persistent.
Deliberately managing a certain feeling, such as being unfamiliar, should be more a matter of a group of gods such as Rilke, rather than the essence of the image.
The videos of Bergman and others have been sealed in a certain folder, and I dare not watch them again, nor delete them. It is estimated that Jia’s films will follow suit, and I am more and more afraid of literature and art.
Because art itself is unfamiliar. It's unfamiliar anyway, how superficial and profound can there be a difference.
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