It is a French film directed by Hirokazu Koreeda, a fusion of Japanese and French cultures. A bunch of films were released before, but I don't remember the theme or who the director is. In this movie viewing experience with a blurred background, there is no such strong sense of violation of "acclimatization". The wind chime shrine tatami, the oil painting wine long dining table, is not just a simple mix of decoration and venue, but the European style is strong and distinct. For example, the conversation between mother and daughter about sex is outspoken. "How many times did you do it last night?" This kind of straight-to-the-point dialogue is inconceivable as an implicit conservative oriental culture. The warm walk of a family of three on the street is very Japanese, but when the accordion is heard in front of the restaurant, a group of people can't help dancing. This is French style. The typical Japanese courtyard shots at the beginning and the end, especially the display of light and shadow on the branches, still feel the eastern wind in the quiet and delicate realm. The title is "The Truth". A mother who is in her twilight and a daughter who is in the middle of a mid-life crisis, they have the same beauty as outsiders, but they are also in trouble. There is a huge deviation from her childhood experience in her mother's memoirs, and she came for the truth. One is strong, the other is weak, but there is weakness in strength, and rigidity in softness. The relationship between the two of them is a mother and daughter who are estranged from each other, an enemy who breaks down each other, or a shadow that comforts each other. I vaguely feel that the rhythm of the movie seems to be very slow, and the grievances and grievances of the mother and daughter for decades are explained in a gentle and calm voice. Taking the filming of science fiction films as an introduction, using women as materials, cooking soup with old fire. The characters of men in the film are mostly used for seasoning, resentment and absurdity, a strange fragrance mixed with old things. Open the lid and push aside the pervasive mist, the jar is still the familiar family fetters, the soup slag is the memory fragment of each word, and the bottom is the bitter and unspeakable resentment of the middle-class family. Compared with the Japanese-style emotions that are elicited and unspoken, the French-style Hirokazu-eda is more inclined to reveal his heart and reconcile clearly. For the oriental audiences who are familiar with him, the ending he is good at is usually warm and bright with unfinished sadness. The film seems straightforward and steamy. But for Europeans who don't know much about this culture, this can be regarded as a kind of neutralization under the first test.
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