It is a fairy tale, but it is the lost paradise of fairy tales.
Dressed in black in the vast white snow, it was like a jackdaw counting. The trains are heading for a distant hometown, but they are heading for a grand funeral. The bride who fled and the white horse who was abandoned and died in the snow all shattered the beautiful fairy tale dream in the child's heart. The truth taught in the film is also so childish: it is not good to get something for nothing, don't take a stranger's car.
In the first half, these images are revealed lightly and without trace, which awakens our innocence. It wasn't until the little girl was tarnished of her virginity that she was at a loss. Later, when she danced with the teenager, she had a gleam of love, but she had already lost that piece of purity. Silent silence is better than sound, and it is deafening and distressing.
Also, Greece has changed. The theatre went from a solemn ritual in a shrine to a political cry in the war years, until the auctioned costumes hung by the sea with their sleeves dancing in the wind like lost souls. A stump hand was lifted by a crane, and the three stood solemnly. Isn't it like a ritualized tribute to the decay of civilization, sacred evil and lost prophecy.
The trick is to know how much you have lost along the way with the eyes of the "passer" (the audience). But a child is always the most simple scavenger, and he can still see seagulls from the shards of glass. The eulogy of joy is actually a dirge of innocence.
Not a black fairy tale, but a white silk that turns your white into a funeral.
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