The relationship between the author and the reader, the director and the audience has always been about fate. What kind of person are you, what kind of stories will attract you. vice versa. A "Five Centimeters Per Second" touched the heartstrings of countless adults about their first love, and the story itself was written for them. Those things seemed like a long time ago. Many authors actually have a complex. Therefore, despite the endless emergence of new works, generations of hands are turned into clouds and rains. Stephen Chow is a treasure that you only know after a loss, and Wong Kar Wai is the one you once had in his heart. It seems that it is even more difficult to describe in Xin Haicheng's pen, but there are always some flowers that bloom and thank you, there are always some words that can't be said, and there are always some emotions that are firmly locked in, a kind of inextricable and irrelevant to outsiders. unforgettable. How extraordinary can an ordinary boy's ordinary feelings be? It's like the green tree in the courtyard of the park. It falls into the eyes of irrelevant people. Every leaf is light and similar - but whether it is so, the leaves are clear, and those who look carefully know in their hearts. . A teenager who skipped class meets a woman who only eats chocolate and beer. During the long rainy season, even the rhythm of the sparse rain has become loud and clear. There's a lot to share from start to finish, but to put it bluntly, there's not much to say. Xin Haicheng's youth is always precocious, a kind of discouragement that wants to talk about it. Because I cherish the present moment too much, I am afraid to approach. That is also the affection that only belongs to young people - "For her, everything about me when I was fifteen years old may not be worth it." It seemed that she accidentally missed half a beat of her heartbeat while walking. Even I don't think it's a big deal, but I still yearn and yearn... Because it's too insignificant and too white, so that the audience with a guilty conscience suddenly thinks of myself. Those subtle emotions that are as dense and elusive as water mist molecules actually exist around all people who share the same smell. When I was in it, I didn't realize it. It was only after the sky was clear that I woke up and felt that everything around me had become different. Chocolates, erasers, signboards at intersections, and nodes where scenes are substituted are vivid in my mind. Xin Haicheng knows the ripples in his heart, but the great thing is that he knows how to impress you. The subtle brilliance of falling leaves scattered on the water surface, the dense and clear water droplets hanging on the wires, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the wet bluestone road... Compared with "Second 5", there are a lot of details that are more than enough, and you can jump out at any time. The screen, which exists as a three-dimensional tangible image, is implicitly indicated in the commonplace, and seduces you to have a heart-to-heart resonance with the protagonist. And Xiaoxiong's emotional line itself is a very common thing - miss, but can't find a reason to say goodbye; resentful, but completely unable to shake this injustice; love, but it must be done when it is obviously salvageable Willful move. His story is just his story. Like all the teenagers who once embraced vague feelings, in the later life, in the life of others, the possibility that such feelings can be put into practical use is only one in ten million. Or maybe everything changed the moment he walked into the courtyard surrounded by shade with an umbrella, and he couldn't help but make another choice - and this is different from the precious tree in "Second 5" - Takaki's story unfolded by himself step by step; while Yukino and Takao, the unexpected element became the dominant. Coincidentally, they reach the same destination by different paths, and these are not so important - aren't the results all the same anyway? The spring, summer, autumn and winter passed by without any suspense. All they could do was to stare at the blank space in the old place for a while, and then say lightly: All are gone. At this time, only oneself will know what the status of everything that has gone to is in life. There is a sentence in "Xi Bao" that left a deep impression on me: "She may have never been in a concentration camp, fled by the alarm, or she has never suffered such hardships, but she is equally qualified to be tired, and she is equally qualified to commit suicide." A hundred schools of thought contend, what ordinary people can have is nothing but ordinary people's life and death, love and love, and ordinary people's life. But in the final analysis, there are no two leaves that completely overlap in the world. As long as you really take it as one thing in your heart, you can often move others when you say it. No one kind of love is greater than another. For an audience who wants to see the mountains and seas, the plot that takes place in the courtyard in the rainy season can only be as dull as clear water; but if it is an audience who is looking for resonance in it, he can deeply appreciate the falling of every leaf. The radian, the texture of every beam of light passing through the hair, every rainy day, the expectation for the person you like. As an author, you can make people who look at your work understand it. It feels like a world away. Maybe there is nothing to regret, and everything else is not so important; after all, not all stories need to be told to everyone. . In a peaceful and prosperous age, a hundred schools of thought contend, what ordinary people can have is only ordinary people's life and death, love and love, and ordinary people's life. But in the final analysis, there are no two leaves that completely overlap in the world. As long as you really take it as one thing in your heart, you can often move others when you say it. No one kind of love is greater than another. For an audience who wants to see the mountains and seas, the plot that takes place in the courtyard in the rainy season can only be as dull as clear water; but if it is an audience who is looking for resonance in it, he can deeply appreciate the falling of every leaf. The radian, the texture of every beam of light passing through the hair, every rainy day, the expectation for the person you like. As an author, you can make people who look at your work understand it. It feels like a world away. Maybe there is nothing to regret, and everything else is not so important; after all, not all stories need to be told to everyone. .
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