A few nights ago, a friend recommended "Little Love Songs in Paris", and then followed by a long paragraph of watching reasons that seemed to be self-talking, probably meaning, thinking of you I will love it, don't cry too much at the end. I pouted at the end of the screen. Not interested in French films, because I am always confused about the rhythm of their editing. Regarding British films, I always have an appreciation attitude of "small abuse and big abuse". The same film, every time I watch it, I dig out new tears.
"Little Love Songs in Paris", I haven't seen a movie for such a long time in a long time. First, the potato buffer is too slow. Every time I wake up in the morning and open the link buffer for half a day, I will watch it in the afternoon. The subtitles are so unclear that they often have to pause to study what they are saying. So, for a simple film, I studied it for 3 days. unprecedented.
The second time I watched it, I found that there was no sun in the whole film. After the second and a half times, I finally figured out that in the afternoon of the second day when the second man and the first man met, a beige halo was refracted from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the west, the only heat source for 90 minutes. So I found a 720p resource and downloaded it and started to study it seriously.
A couple, a man's female colleague. The blond girlfriend suddenly died suddenly. The black-haired man covered his face and wept, remembering Yiren together with his blond girlfriend's family. The second young blond-brown-haired man appeared with subtle and beautiful feelings. On the balcony at midnight, in the moonlight, he said to him, "Love me less, but love me longer."
My life was cast a shadow by myself, like the backside of the planet, another self. Not the me at the newspaper office, not the me at the family dinner, not even the me when the lovers hug. The love between us begins to fear after 8 years that there will be a ninth year blooming. We put insurance dates on all kinds of organic and inorganic things, but we always stubbornly hope that love will never end. The autopsy report clearly stated the cause of death: cardiac arrest caused by a blood clot blocking an artery. Because she cares too much about the potential ninth year between us, her mind is depressed, and her body is sick. Therefore, even blood, arteries, and heart have a shelf life. It's just that until the last moment, no one can understand the numbers on the line with the year, month, and day.
Her sudden death made me naturally fall into the vicious circle of "tears-drinking-missing-tears". They don't understand, I don't need scorching heat, an Apollo-like lover. Maybe, you don't understand, or why I finally opened my eyes after falling asleep in the morning and saw the warm sunlight passing through your blond hair. What you brought back also included fresh grape rolls from the bakery on the way home, greetings from the streets of Paris at midnight, the thought of helping me prepare clothes, and the wait in front of the newspaper office after skipping class. Oh, yes, and the "Asshole!" you left behind when you turned around when I ran away with my words, and I knew in my heart that I was "an old paranoid lovelorn, just a stupid and vulgar poor bastard", And you are "young handsome Brittany with the scent of a rainy sea and a lemon crepe". But why do you say, I saved you? You are the light that shines through the leaden sky of Paris in winter, maybe not enough to drive away all the cold and gloom, but for me, it is enough. I will wash away those muddy memories in your living body and young wings. On a bleak winter night, I look back at the moonlight in the distance, and tell you softly, only to tell you, "Love me a little less, but love me a little longer."
Therefore, everyone has a Paris in their hearts, and everyone's Paris is in their hearts. There is a little love song to sing for lovers.
PS: The understanding of the characters in the middle and second paragraphs was originally in the third person. After the first draft was written, I felt that the expression was not smooth and concise enough, so it was changed to the first and second person narrative. The text is not much, the strength is the most important.
PPS: In this film, my favorite is the blonde girlfriend's white wool coat, the second favorite is her black chunky heel suede ankle boots, I have a pair of exactly the same. By the way, she complained that her eldest sister, who was obsessed with men after the sudden death of her blond girlfriend, looked like Misha Barton. The female colleague of the first male, Alice, looks like Ellison Chung!
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