When Matt decided to join Ben on this journey that spanned more than half of the country, I knew it was destined to be a battle that would end in reconciliation. It's not so much a cliché of a story as to say that the ruins after the war between father and son will eventually be rebuilt into new cities by time, as is often the case.
Film is great for storytelling. The filming process is the foreshadowing buried in the story. At that moment, you don’t know what the final image will look like. It may just be because the tree next to you exhaled a big dry and tired breath, and it happened to pass you. on the temples, you press the shutter and want to know where the wind is going; after the last photo is taken, the film starts to spin and buzzes, that is the suspense set in the story, and you start to look forward to the ending; waiting for the process of flushing It is the stage where the story is getting better, you read day and night, dream when you are awake, read aloud when you are asleep; when you receive the final photo, the story is like the end of the movie.
Granted, it's easy to guess what the projected photo at the end of the movie is about. But I don't think it's necessary to take the contents of the four rolls of film as a so-called suspense. The ending is often a sultry trap for tragic works, and for "Kodakrom", it is not necessary.
Matt has a certain musical talent but a mediocre, even in crisis, career, especially when compared to his father, who was an accomplished photographer. Matt worshipped Ben, stubbornly and secretly. For every point he hated his father, he felt more admiration. This feeling seemed unfounded—he hadn’t spoken to his father for ten years and certainly didn’t know him, and even consciously resisted anything to do with him—there wasn’t a single photo of him in his office. But maybe it was because his father's shoulder was the first peak he reached the top in his life, or maybe it was because the mother he loved loved his father unconditionally, so subconsciously he always recognized the status of his father. Such contradictions made him terrified of being with his father, and he could have concealed this delicate feeling in raging anger and unmoved indifference, but on the highway to Kansas, every moving forward Every kilometer raises the curtain that Matt uses to cover his heart by an inch. A father who can't express and is unwilling to express, and a child who lacks responsiveness, are often two sides in this battle. They built the fortresses of their respective positions with silence, and used every reckless word hoarsely shouted as the drum of war. The accumulated anger is the hoarding of war rations, and the deepening misunderstanding is the moat that has been opened. You and I Respectively defend one side, not an inch of land. Once the rest has recovered, it will resume the battle again. It was a tiring battle, but it had to be fought.
Ben is jealous of Dean, I guess. He saw Dean hug and kiss Matt like a real father and son before he was ready to go upstairs to sleep. Ben fell down in the bathroom the next morning, topless, every piece of skin was powerless to tell the age of the body. Ben not only saw his vulnerable self in the mirror, but also saw Matt who was watching him, and he closed the door hard. He did not have a father image like "father" in Matt's heart, and now he is so old and unbearable when he is gradually entering Matt's heart as a father. So I'm not surprised that he said such irritating Dean remarks at the breakfast table later on. He is taking revenge. He tried to provoke Dean to vent his intense jealousy, he attacked and hurt everyone at the dinner table to prove that he was still the same, albeit equally annoying.
On my eighteenth birthday, I got a message from my father that he had grown up before he asked me about my dreams. I know there will always be such a sentence, like Matt sitting in the ward finally waiting for Ben's confession. When I realized that my communication with my father was more and more like an equal exchange of views between two adults, I thought he was getting old first. But I prefer to say that he was victorious rather than compromised in this battle. I no longer want to defeat him, and I hope to leave the last glory to him who has always been looked up to by me. I no longer shouted about my dreams, trying to suppress his laughter with my youthful decibels, but tried my best to catch the blue bird and show him. This is probably the difference between me and Matt.
They ended up in Kansas. Facing the twilight of the morning light, Ben replaced the baseball cap on his head with the wide-brimmed round hat he often wears. The last shop in the world that could process Kodachrome film had its last customer, and the last customer had the last day of his life. No one knew what he heard as he wiped the camera, only that he went with the sound without regret. When Ben was pushed out of the room, the photographers who gathered here stood on both sides of the road, bowed their heads slightly and closed their eyes, holding the camera in their hands and pressing the shutter again and again, the flash lighted up - a unique tribute and farewell Way.
Film will expire, the Kodachrome era will pass, and maybe even film photography will one day fade away, and people are no longer willing to wait. But this battle is not up to you.
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