Author: Fish Huna
There is a movie special addictive. It can't have too sensational plot, too heavy ending, too dense thinking logic. It is different from pheromone-style literary and artistic movies, but it also has a chemical effect and an intangible charm. Instead of rendering your dreams curly, it chooses to hide in the drawer next to the wooden table and catch you looking through it. At the moment of the paper, I suddenly smelled a scent, and coffee and smoke floated.
This kind of movie can't get the most resonance, it can't earn tears, and it can't make people feel exciting. But it's weird, a certain sensation in it touches the nerves in your body exactly. And we complained together about whether it was something metaphysical, and then I didn’t understand it, so I couldn’t discuss it, so I ordered coffee, you lighted a cigarette, and looked out the window together.
[Coffee and Smoke] is like a book, its cover is Richard Berry's Louie Louie, and the back cover becomes Iggy Pop's Louie Louie. In fact, it is more like a collection of postcards, each story can be cut into carefully arranged images, and every still scene makes people love it. More specifically, this movie is like eleven conceptual miniseries. The only thing in common is that there are coffee, cigarettes, coffee tables with black and white grids on almost every bridge section, and stand out from every corner. "A person who belongs to or does not belong to your world." There are some scenes, playing the scenes of Beckett's stage, it is Waiting for Godot looking at the big tree in a daze, Didi and Gogo, it is Happy Days two heads self-care monologue, or Endgame living in the trash can Nagg in here and Nell who can't wake up anymore. Some scenes contain the black humor of Quentin Tarantino's movies. Seeing the indifferent shadow of Samuel Jackson playing with a gun, I was surprised to find that Uma Schumann became the prototype of the heroine in the play.
Of course, this is just my personal interpretation, you might say disapprovingly, that is not the case at all! I smiled and didn't take it for granted. Come, have a cup of coffee or smoke a cigarette, and discuss it. This is an attitude of survival. We don't need to argue for the plot.
In my eyes, Jia Muxu really gave this movie a different soul. The self-deprecating humor runs through the film, and the helpless but gimmicky dialogues are his style of storytelling. He led me to browse through the postcards, watching the characters in them create a burst of energy based on the magnetism in their eyes. They talked or stared, or sucked or sipped. After a brief meeting, the picture became still again, and life continued. The end of one sheet is repeated, and the black-and-white scene continues after the page is turned.
These eleven short stories have become my personal collection. Sometimes I open this book and choose a few postcards at random, reclining on a chair with my eyes closed and asking them to start telling stories. In my mind, I have poured in the freshly cooked Italian concentrate, staring at the floating froth in a daze in another compartment. That is time and space parallel to here, and maybe I don’t smoke in the real world, but in this drawer, black and white have constituted another special meaning, so I lit the metaphysical smoke and vomited. Those circles of metaphysics, pretending to have their own blood and exhaled air, gradually solidified into a shallow and persistent existence.
I remember what the old man said at the end of the film, I lost track of the world.
And Bill Murray showed up, I asked him are you a bug?
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