Uncle Zhang asked me if I look good? I couldn't say more for a while, only said two words "beautiful".
There is so much that can be said about Hirokazu-eda, and in the end I don't know where to start.
Like each of his films, there are never any surprises, but no surprises are the best.
Recently, I have often heard some real stories that are even more exciting than the movies. I go back and think about it. In fact, this major event in life is not the reason for the movie. If you are willing to restore it to life, it will be the best movie. .
Higher than life is a delusion of creation.
The story is about a lot of novelists who are addicted to gambling (in fact, not very addicted). Living in distress, divorced, unable to pay his son's alimony. Using the excuse of finding inspiration for novels, he was doing the private detective work he was good at.
When I met my son once, I encountered a typhoon, and together with my ex-wife and son, they were left at the son's grandmother's house by the typhoon.
In the barrage, many people are looking forward to getting back with their ex-wife after this night, and most of them are scolding a lot of this useless gambler. Don't get back together, so as not to teach bad children.
If he truly understood it was Hirokazu-eda, these expectations and abuse would be unnecessary.
He's never good at making a happy ending, and that's one of the reasons why I love Hirokazu-eda.
Some people watch movies to satisfy their unfulfilled wishes in life, and I just don't.
Everyone walks in their own direction in the fragmented life, there is no miracle, there is no judgment, and what finally reverberates in the mind is just some feelings that overlap with the viewer.
Like Calpis that can’t be digged in a glass, orange trees that don’t grow oranges, butterflies parked by the roadside, curry that only tastes better overnight.
The little adventure of sneaking into a slide in a small garden for the night on a typhoon day, looking for a lottery ticket in the wind and rain that will probably never win.
The grandmother who waved goodbye in the corridor, once secretly gave her son's book to many dead fathers in the neighbors.
The broken balcony glass, the little black slag floating in the small bathtub...
You can almost perceive the time in the movie, like every minute and every second in real time. No one can stop it from passing, and no one can stop the beauty of its mosaic every second.
Time made up of insignificant passing, as a bystander burst into tears as it slipped away.
Years later you will forget, maybe reappear in dreams, but you don't remember, they actually come from bits and pieces that you didn't engrave in your memory.
Uncle Zhang often said that movie reviews have nothing to do with movies, it's about your own re-creation. What I want to write is not a movie review. In the flowing time, I wrote down the bits and pieces of what I saw and thought, in black on a white background, Imprinting every minute and every second is proof of existence.
Don't think too much and don't remember. ——After Uncle Zhang finished it, it was already past two o'clock in the night, and I still felt that it was too short and not enough
. Walking without stopping is also always enough to make people see it.
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