Phantom light.
It is the film debut of Hirokazu Koreeda, adapted from Miyamoto Teru's novel of the same name. I was so shallow that when I read it, I could only think of its beautiful, delicate, slow-moving charm like smoking a poppy.
The young Yumiko failed to stop her grandma, who had run away from home many times, and that became their last side.
In the dark corridor, only a light slanted on one side of the corridor. She lived with her parents in the house above the corridor. No wonder her grandmother said, "I'm going to die in my hometown, Shikoku."
The girl who blamed herself ran on the viaduct where her grandmother ran away. The street lamps around were covered with a thick layer of gray, and I couldn’t see the way I came and turned back. I said to myself: I can’t watch this movie anymore. Then, Chen Mingzhang's "Night" sounded. The girl was running on her way home, and at the end of the corridor, she met a boy, Tadanobu Asano, who was pushing a bicycle.
The camera switches to the young Yumiko. She was awakened by a nightmare and said to the man beside her, "I dreamed of my grandma again." Your grandma." I think the girl's inner monologue at this time should be: Yes, who made you appear like a light.
She was living in poverty, but Yumiko felt heartfelt happiness. She peeped at the back of the man from the window of the printing and dyeing factory in winter. He was told by his companions that when he turned around and smiled at Yumiko, there was just a beam of light, from the side of the window to the side where the man was standing in the factory, shining on Tadanobu Asano's young face (melancholy, but gentle). At that time, the whole movie gave this man a frontal shot, which was also the last shot.
Chen Mingzhang's accompaniment came to mind again, this time waiting. Yumiko coaxed the child who had just turned one month to sleep, leaning on the crib for a light sleep. The man came to her softly and said that he forgot to take the umbrella. Yumiko took him downstairs and watched him walk away with a bright smile. He held it in his right hand. The black umbrella, walking briskly, disappeared on the edge of the railway.
It became a picture without a goodbye. The sound of the rain was pattering, and along with Yumiko's most beautiful smile, she disappeared little by little in the night waiting for her husband. Without any warning, the police brought bad news in the middle of the night. Her man disappeared under the railroad tracks with his soul, bloody and bloody, leaving only the bicycle bell she painted for him.
Years later, Yumiko passed on to a man who grew up by the sea.
The shot is of a stretch of coastline, mountains, and vistas of children frolicking on paddy field terriers in winter, green light refracted in tunnels.
Yumiko lives in a sea-view room where light and dark are intertwined. She accepts all the new things, but she is brooding about her ex-husband's death, and she also resents her current husband's feelings for his deceased wife. She seemed to think that being jealous was a good start, so she revisited the old place on the grounds of her brother's marriage, went to the cafe where she and Forgotten husband only appeared together, and learned that he did not say goodbye to her the day before his death. In the back, she also ordered a cup of coffee here, and everything as usual made her even more confused, like a trapped beast.
Yumiko watched the waves beat on her heart, her hand was her husband's relic, and her mind was the neighbor's grandmother who had not returned to her neighbor in the snow after greeting her in the morning. Even the taciturn father-in-law saw her. He was restless and said a comforting word: "Even if the boat falls, she will swim back. She was born for the water."
It was still late at night when the neighbor grandma came back and brought her the three crabs promised in the morning, and her worry turned into a choked sob hiding in the kitchen. She wondered how a person could disappear in front of her lover without saying goodbye.
She seems to have lost her life twice. Grandma's goodbye, ex-husband's bizarre suicide.
She can't get out of this vicious circle of death. She was sitting in a simple bus booth, wearing a slender knitted dress and a black scarf, her eyes filled with unknown despair, ready to escape.
Chen Mingzhang's "Missing" sounded, this is my favorite accompaniment and also my favorite scene. This is a long shot, accompanied by a team of sea burials. Yumiko followed behind the funeral team. The blue seaside was blizzard with snow, and she seemed to have completed a ceremony. She burst into tears and pulled out a rusted iron needle for his second man: "I just don't understand why he committed suicide, why he was walking along the rails."
The man said: "He said that the sea was calling him. Dad often went to the beach. He said that when he came out alone, he once saw a beautiful light calling him from a distance. I think it is possible for everyone."
Yumiko learned to let go. The grandmother was the light of her childhood, the ex-husband was the light of her youth, and the current husband and children are the light of her present. No matter how obscure her life was, this phantom light was always with her, allowing her to understand the meaning of the living and the dead.
This summer, Yumiko finally wore a colorful outfit, white V-neck long sleeves, green long skirt, and cutely wiped the long ladder of the seaside attic.
She said: The weather is really nice today.
At the end of the song, driven by Chen Mingzhang's accompaniment, the music production of the whole movie is perfect! The bitterness of the guitar, the sadness of the erhu, and the tranquility of the Yueqin, follow "Night", "Remarriage" and "Missing" into the movie, substituting into the characters' psychology, and deeply fascinated.
It was Hirokazu Koreeda who used his usual meticulous tone to tell the story of a woman who learned to look at life and death and confessed to herself, while Chen Mingzhang's accompaniment was like a river kissing a cold stone in the water, polished and warm. The combination of the two creates a slow release of vision and a rich life of hearing.
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