Like all other British movies, brothers fighting tigers, father and son soldiers in battle, the big faces and small faces shown in the movies are always those British faces. Half of Harry Potter appeared: the old killer of one of the protagonists was crazy-eyed Brendan Gleeson, the boss of the gang was Voldemort Ralph Fiennes, the young killer was the project of the catastrophe, and the priest who was killed was Snape Alan Rickman.
People all over the world have prejudices, or stereotypes. The British are no exception. But the British stereotype arrangement is particularly vivid. A family of three in the United States as large as a white elephant, Canadians who are extremely environmentally friendly, the conductors of tourist attractions in Belgium are unreasonably rude, and Amsterdam's famous streets are full of prostitutes. Old people love medieval art, while young people are only interested in beautiful women. If these stale things are put in Hollywood, they will only be moldy again; they are all different in the hands of the British. The British do not speak of the extreme political correctness of stifling creativity. It's not surprising at all: Is there anything hypocritical about the culture that has survived the Victorian era that you dare not laugh at?
I watch a lot of comedies and black humor, but like In Bruges, comedies that make people cry and laugh a second are really rare. When the movie gradually entered tension, the liver, stomach, and lung were all screwed together. The moment the old killer died, I really wanted to cry. A minute later, the gang boss cursed and pulled out the map, and I was about to laugh again. Like this several times, laugh from the beginning to the end. But when the lights are bright and out of the cinema, if a reporter happens to ask me: Do you think this is a comedy? I may not be able to answer, rubbing my red and swollen eyes.
In order to catch people’s attention, many American movies always start with a sensational story structure that aliens can’t think of. Then in the second half of the movie, all the plots and characters are hurriedly gathered from all directions and twisted with steel wire. Together, people have the urge to curse "How dare you..." at the end of the movie. In Bruges is not at all. Everyone has a distinct personality, unchanged from the beginning to the end. Several men in the underworld, the hotel owner is pregnant with the pregnant wife, the conductor who hates foreigners in their hearts, the feminine and rich Belgian gun dealer and his stupid son who is unconvinced on the street. However, the movie writers put them together like a tangram into a movie that goes vertically and horizontally, and they are tightly connected with tenons everywhere. In comparison, Hollywood movies are not kneaded at all, sandwiching the dough of raw gnocchi.
What I especially like is the personality charm of the people in the play. Personality charm does not have to be a high-level character. Liu Huifang can't be regarded as a personality charm. It is a "divine personality". In modern Internet language, it is probably called "Leige". Personality charm is the touch or appreciation of a person, which is a bit of persistence, stubbornness, or tolerance that a person sometimes does not give up. What is popular now is to divide the two worldviews, claiming that one’s life’s love is real money, and converting everything into cash (recently not in the limelight, you may have to exchange for euros). He is a very fashionable personality. It is not that I am innocent, but that people generally overestimate the weight of economic weight in themselves and others, especially in the age when most people's lives have long been free from cold and starvation. There is an old Chinese saying that "money can make ghosts grind", but in reality, money can't even make the living unsullen. The regret of the young killer who accidentally injured the boy, the old killer's love for the young killer, the insistence of the cold-blooded gang boss with emotional control problems, and the bravery of the pregnant female hotel owner all make people feel that they can come closer at any time. The young killer went on a date with a beautiful girl on the first night. A button was unbuttoned and fastened, and the button was unbuttoned and unbuttoned, three times. The old killer looked at him, funny and considerate. The gang boss and the old killer met in a street pub before a duel. The Belgian who jokes behind the gun is practicing yoga at home. The light-hearted friend is fleeting, but without it, the development of the plot can not be explained at all.
Of course, what I never tire of in all British movies is that those people are dressed so neatly. Their suits and coats fit perfectly, unlike Americans whose pants are always slumped, their shoulders are always shrugged, and their collars are always open. After the movie ended, what I could not forget was the beautiful creamy white coat and pink scarf of the hotel hostess, thinking that I must buy one at any time.
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