The movie is about a "holiday" trip that two killers were ordered to start. The black humor appeared in the composing between the two killers, which makes people can't help but think about it. The film is set in the famous European town-Bruges. There is a calmness hidden in the ancient vicissitudes of architecture, the scenery is elegant and beautiful, and there is a sense of leisure and ease, the music is soothing and there is a sadness and lowness in the light, the characters have bright personality, laughing and scolding. In time, the acting is impeccable.
Ray, when he arrived in Bruges, he was very upset and depressed, with thick black eyebrows, turning a blind eye to the beauty of the monuments, full of complaints, and provocations everywhere. Ken, his partner, travels leisurely, with a tourist mentality of peace when he comes, enjoying the famous paintings and monuments, and lingering in the beautiful wine shop. Later, it was known that the fledgling Ray had to avoid Bruges because he missed and killed innocent children by mistake. He can't get rid of the blood in his memory, and the beauty of wine can hardly reduce the burden of his soul. Ken, the experienced professional killer, hesitated under ruthless instructions, not only couldn't bear to point the gun at his companions, but also promptly stopped his urge to commit suicide. Warmth blooms at that moment, but this turning point has left the coldness and reason that the killer should have.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m tired of the days of fighting and killing, or because of some reason in the suicide note that was too late to open, or because of unrequited love, Ken left the hope of life to the Maotou guy, and he blatantly provokes. Calm to death. Harry, who couldn't do it, was furious, went into battle and chased him down to Bruges himself. Facing the dying Ken, Harry was also contradictory and struggling, and finally chose his principle-no matter what, he wanted to kill the boy in vain. And when he made the same mistake, the bullet that penetrated Ray also hit the dwarf who was out of sight behind him. The barrel with the remaining smoke turned to him without hesitation, pulling the trigger firmly to pay for his life.
The exquisite details give me a taste of pirates. But four lives were lost for this? Compared with the so-called principle, human life seems to have become inferior...
The three killers in this film all break away from the stereotyped professional image and have their own characteristics; the circulation of the plot is even more unexpected, indeed, as you say, out of the ordinary. And I rarely watch this type of film, so the movie is full of freshness. Especially worth mentioning is the wonderful soundtrack of the movie.
From the beginning of the film, the music has been paving the way in the background. The briskness of the piano and the deepness of the cello are intertwined, reflecting the fluctuations and contradictions of the character’s mood; the unhurried rhythm echoes the slow rhythm that Europe has always used. It seems that people relax their nerves, but in fact, if there is seemingly uneasy restlessness, it has been accumulating in the stewing pot, waiting for the moment of boiling. When Ken dragged his bloody body and climbed up the steps with difficulty, "On Raglan Road" began to sound. The low baritone sang softly in his ears, and the Irish bagpipes from far away floated, and the emotions that had been brewing for a long time began. Gushing out; when he stood on the top of the tower and leaned over to look into the distance, the surrounding mist was hazy; when the coins fell one by one, passers-by stopped and looked up with curiosity; he dressed up and leaped into the sky. At this moment, I am completely immersed. In the Irish folk songs brought by The Dubliners, sad but not sad, waiting for a seemingly inevitable ending.
On Raglan Road
On Raglan Road on an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And I said:"Let grief, be a fallen leafAt the dawning of the day"
On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such
By such is happiness thrown away
I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
That's known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint did not stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow
That had I loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'd lose his wings at the dawn of day
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