Lately, I've often been in a daze all of a sudden, especially when driving home past the Mirror Lake. If there is a sunset and twilight, I will always remember the beautiful scenery of the red leaves in Yosemite with my friends last year, but then I will change my mind, and it will be another year of autumn scenery, but the people have left, and there is nothing left, only to call for more Add some melancholy. If there is a bright moon or a constellation of stars, I will suddenly recall the crazy artists I have read recently, think about San Mao, and the "Under the Starry Sky in Asia" she mentioned. A friend launched the "Youth Memorial Book" activity, asking everyone to recall the literary works that touched, intoxicated, and unforgettable the most in their youth. I really wanted to talk about my days of sleepless reading Sanmao, but when I was about to write, it was blank. This makes me melancholy and panic. Melancholy, is more and more discovering the distance between myself and youth. When I was young, I read a book, watched a movie, even if it was an old-fashioned scene with a poor plot, it would be reminiscent of a certain heart-wrenching moment; I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to utter a sentence or two of the unfamiliar words in people’s mouths; when I was young, I read Sanmao’s “Allure”, “At that time, I was a beautiful woman, I know that when I laugh, I am like a spring flower. , will be able to move people - whoever he is" - this sentence gives me all shock and expectation, and will not test the boring question of whether it is true or not; ", I hate those pretending to be smart lines, and I don't understand why it is so difficult for those paranoid and autistic characters to say "love"! Panic is a kind of trembling and shock that can't be done after this distance. A few days ago, I read "Allure" again, and I can't find the emotion and shock at the beginning. Even though I still love Sanmao deeply, I have already begun to calmly identify the superiority of the writing. On the weekend, I went to see the rich and colorful "Dong Xie Xi Po Definitive Edition". Those emotions that I couldn't understand when I was young rushed through my chest like a tide. With the sound of Yo-Yo Ma's cello, tears finally came one after another in the dark theater. Roll down one by one. The next day I watched "Painted Skin", this story must have been moving to me ten years ago, but in front of me, only the editing is not smooth, the theme is not prominent, and the intention is downgraded. These years are really magical. When they were young, they were beautiful, but they had to be whitened; when they were dark, they had to use magic, and suddenly they became colorful in memory. I've never liked Wong Kar Wai that much. The narration in "Dong Xie Xi Du" can't escape the suspicion of contrived, and there are so many that the movie almost degenerates into a super-long version of music TV: the picture is instead reduced to an auxiliary status, which only provides a visual supplement for these ravings. From Bazin's point of view, this is how Making a movie is almost like cheating. The function of visual language is greatly weakened. From beginning to end, the director hides behind the actors and keeps talking, talking, and supplementing. Where is the movie, it is clearly the soundtrack prose recitation! And even if you put aside the priority of these forms of expression, as a story, "Evil in the East" is not good. It is fragmented and has no major plot development. It only has a group of inexplicable characters who are talking about some self-confidence. Love and crazy words. In the final version, all the characters that have nothing to do with the emotions in the film are simply removed, and those who belong to Jin Yong's high-level descriptions of martial arts, such as the east evil and the west poison, have been deleted, making the silhouettes of these characters more fragmented and more isolated. When I was young, it was impossible for me to like this kind of movie. Even today, I still don't like such extreme emotional expressions. If it weren't for the few opportunities to watch Chinese-language movies in theaters, I'm afraid I wouldn't have seized the opportunity to watch a movie that was obviously not my cup of tea. For the re-edited "Evil in the East and the Poison in the West", Wong Kar-wai painted them with thick colors. This is the same connection of light and shadow as a surreal painting. I found that if I gave up the requirement for narrative, I would see it as a childhood dream, it would be so moving. The sand is bright yellow, the color of jasmine flowers. A bright blue sky and white clouds were reflected in the puddles. The red is like blood, the green is like ink, the light and shadow are horizontal and slanted, so thick that it cannot be dissolved. The person is still the same person as he was back then. He looked like a dozen years ago, with no wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and no vicissitudes can be seen in his pupils. The same lines were spoken, and the same sighs were heard. The only thing that changed was himself. Memories are indeed the most interesting thing. A story that was once complete has been filtered by the years and turned into fragments. The order in which they appear may change, and even those involved may misremember, but some of the seemingly trivial details are the most lifelike. The so-called memory, in fact, remember these most useless things, some colors, shapes, a smell, a sentence, an expression. What nourished my heart for many years is the emotion represented by these symbols, such as loneliness, regret, and heartache. In my memories, it is actually my own voice that dominates all people and things. Whether Murong Yan and Murong Yan are one person or two, the difference is of little significance. I once couldn't figure out who the woman named Peach Blossom and the woman holding the peach blossom at the seaside was the desire in Huang Yaoshi's heart, but later I found out that they were all telling the same story, a story about loss. When I was young, I didn't understand why they were secretive and stubborn I didn’t want to talk about love, so I missed so many of the best times in my life. Later, I realized that what I didn’t want to say or couldn’t say in my life was not just love. The English name of Dianyin is called "Ash of Time", which is much more appropriate than the Chinese "Dongxiexidu". At the end of the years, the woman in the red shirt under the peach blossom tree weeps in front of the mirror, and the woman named peach blossom in the water light weeps on her back. I am a lucky person. When I was young, I only knew how to rush forward, but I couldn't understand their heartache. But time taught me to be tolerant, to understand because of tolerance, and because of understanding, I was finally moved. A moving face makes people feel melancholy, even if it is someone else's story, even if it is an unrelated mind. Behind the moving face, there is actually an unbearable fear. Gradually understand that no matter how firm a belief is, it will eventually turn to ashes in the face of time. Recently, I always look in the mirror carefully before going out. I spend more and more days wearing Fendai, and I am more and more fond of lamenting the benefits of being young. "When I smile, I am like a spring flower" - I envy the face of such a young woman, and I wonder if in my best days, if I had understood so many things now, my life would have been different. I don't want to be terrified to find out that the years are also walking silently on my face, and one day is covered with dust. I clenched the words "Children's Heart" tightly in my wet palms, but I was still afraid. I was afraid that one day only the sharpened edge would remain in my eyes, and the innocence of the age of innocence would no longer be present. Yo-Yo Ma's cello was playing in a low voice, it turned out to be an elegy for youth. Shaohua is good, Yanfei is early, spring is under the swing, and the eyes are turning. The streamer loves to throw people red. The cherry green is the banana. At the end of the years, the wind blows all the ashes of time. , More and more days of thin Fendai, and more and more love to lament the benefits of youth. "When I smile, I am like a spring flower" - I envy the face of such a young woman, and I wonder if in my best days, if I had understood so many things now, my life would have been different. I don't want to be terrified to find out that the years are also walking silently on my face, and one day is covered with dust. I clenched the words "Children's Heart" tightly in my wet palms, but I was still afraid. I was afraid that one day only the sharpened edge would remain in my eyes, and the innocence of the age of innocence would no longer be present. Yo-Yo Ma's cello was playing in a low voice, it turned out to be an elegy for youth. Shaohua is good, Yanfei is early, spring is under the swing, and the eyes are turning. The streamer loves to throw people red. The cherry green is the banana. At the end of the years, the wind blows all the ashes of time. , More and more days of thin Fendai, and more and more love to lament the benefits of youth. "When I smile, I am like a spring flower" - I envy the face of such a young woman, and I wonder if in my best days, if I had understood so many things now, my life would have been different. I don't want to be terrified to find out that the years are also walking silently on my face, and one day is covered with dust. I clenched the words "Children's Heart" tightly in my wet palms, but I was still afraid. I was afraid that one day only the sharpened edge would remain in my eyes, and the innocence of the age of innocence would no longer be present. Yo-Yo Ma's cello was playing in a low voice, it turned out to be an elegy for youth. Shaohua is good, Yanfei is early, spring is under the swing, and the eyes are turning. The streamer loves to throw people red. The cherry green is the banana. At the end of the years, the wind blows all the ashes of time.
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