After a day of dramatic ups and downs, when the morning sun was slightly dewy the next day, the boy finally drank the cup of coffee he had been looking for. The moment he pursed his lips, he was 5% helpless, 3% ironic, and 2% warm. The film stopped abruptly at this scene, and the jazz music at the end of the credits sounded leisurely. I just felt that there was no end to it. However, this is the time when it should be over, before his unruly has turned into a downer, before his melancholy has turned into a moan, before his loneliness has turned into a vulgar. Stop the time, this moment is the best.
"Either vulgar or lonely" - this is the famous saying of the German philosopher Schopenhauer. His pessimism seems like it could add something to the German film. I always feel that there is a special kind of fortitude in German boys, that kind of rebelliousness melted in the blood, which makes them a devil when they take a step forward, and an angel when they take a step back.
The retro black and white photography, the style full of jazz rhythms, the innate yuppie smell of the protagonist... These elements are enough to make "Oh! The Berlin Boys has become a niche literary film. However, that may be why I love this movie, but it's not what I love about it. What really made me fall in love with this movie was -- for a moment, I thought, he, it's me.
We are just as lonely, self-righteous and despise worldly values. He proudly dropped out of the law department, deviating from the well-proven road. But if he obediently got his law degree, twenty years later he would also be wearing hairspray, smoking a cigar, wearing impeccable gentleman's attire, a golf club as a symbol of status, standing on the green dirt On the slope, he joked about the unspoken rules of the lawsuit, boasted about his achievements, and then in the wrinkles of the vicissitudes of life, he aimed, swung, and pursued the seemingly important hole-in-one. He will successfully become his father. Only today, he wore a loose and slightly greasy 37 haircut, a striped white shirt with 3 buttons open lazily, put on a stylized jacket, took a leisurely pace, jumped, jumped out up the railing of the cafe on the edge of the golf course. I will always remember this scene - his jacket was filled with the howling wind, and the white and elegant open-air cafe behind him gradually faded, setting off the boy's slightly frowning brows, and those hesitant and stubborn eyes... We choose loneliness, and we must bear the loneliness that no one cheers for you.
But in fact, we have never been able to be truly lonely heroes. Because we are also vulgar, cowardly and incompetently relying on the family's seemingly reasonable support. Once we lose the source, we are useless, and even the beauty that was once produced by decadence will be completely eroded by trivial life. He sat slouched on the windowsill of the apartment, holding a half-burning cigarette in his slender fingers, the green stubble spreading on his pale face, and under his furrowed eyebrows, he looked at him with a god-like look Material civilization flowing outside the window. This extremely freehand scene made me sadly discover that we are not qualified to sympathize with others at all, because we are all hiding in the castles in the air created by others. The abundance of life makes us pursue spiritual beauty, but forget that loneliness is never inseparable from vulgarity.
So, "either vulgar or lonely" is not an opposing proposition. Is our loneliness not based on the vulgarity of others?
When the Berlin boy took that sip of coffee, I was relieved because we both had a faint smile.
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