I can't remember exactly.
In such a depressing movie, only this plastic bag stretches freely and concentrates on its own dance.
As if there was life attached to it.
I think that's what the director intends. How many poor people wish they had a moment of freedom like this.
It's a pity that life is crumpled, dry and tasteless.
Not even a plastic bag.
Looking at this plastic bag, we forget that we are living beings. And it is nothing but a personal creation.
This is the "beauty" that the teenagers in the film call.
"Trainspotting," "Fight Club," and "Born to Kill" flashed through my mind while watching this movie. Same anti-social, same thirst for freedom.
The difference is that American Beauty is not exported.
Can't vent, can't get rid of, and cling to what you hate.
Through mid-life crisis and marital changes, all I see is a repressed human nature, and those dreams in the dark are just his ultimate self-salvation.
Did he fall in love with that girl?
No, sorry I don't think this is an affair story.
He just did everything he could to look away from reality and pause on a rose.
It is a kind of self-salvation.
At the same time, the reflected self is so ridiculous. Look at him sweating and exercising.
Look at his naked body reflected in the glass.
It just makes me feel pity.
This helpless man. The body is out of shape, the husband and wife are not in harmony, the daughter cannot communicate, and the job is in jeopardy. He was crawling on the ground like a beetle, maybe no one noticed, maybe one day he would be trampled to death. He is such an insignificant character.
Worse than him are his neighbors.
A middle-aged man who is struggling to suppress his homosexuality. Own a walking dead wife.
The saddest thing in the world is about this:
you unknowingly transform into what you hate the most.
These are crazy times.
Everything is crazy again in the mirror. Silent. Because it's not my own story.
We glanced into the fun mirror. His face was swollen and his limbs were broken, like a walking corpse.
But we still live calmly.
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