This is the beginning of the film's explanation of the origin of the Babel, from the Bible. Chinese people like to talk about concerted efforts and unity. I think this collection of powers should have their own purpose, I don't believe in good and evil without a reason. If the movie was shot in China, it would probably be called "The Story of a Rifle." One gun, four countries, several collisions that can't be connected but can't be cut off, a spiritual journey that makes you think but can't think.
A Japanese gifted his hunting gun to his guide in Morocco. The guide sold the gun to a neighbor herdsman whose son accidentally hit a station wagon, killing an American woman among the tourists. Tan, their children and their nanny in the United States went back to the nanny's hometown to attend their son's wedding... The stories of each person are intertwined, the Japanese man whose wife committed suicide and the deaf-mute daughter, the ordinary Moroccan farmer, the family crisis An American couple, a Mexican woman uprooted...everyone's joys and sorrows are diminished in this story.
I believe the world we live in is full of countless wonders and coincidences. Talk to your friends about the size of the world often. When two people met, they recalled all the possible opportunities to meet, found friends they knew together, and then sighed that the world is small. It seems inevitable to meet each other; and those you haven't met or caught a glimpse of in the crowd have no chance. What about people who know in depth? Have you thought about the people you might have met in your own life, and how much have you missed? We can always see the world macroscopically. Have you ever observed your own small world?
A whim, like the small universe we saw in "Saint Seiya" as a child, each of us has our own field. Let’s think of this as a small circular world. When we meet, the two fields are handed over; we are separated, and the collision of each other will also leave clues that cannot be erased. But no matter what, we can't seem to step into each other's worlds. Just like the positrons and negatives in each field, there is always some repulsive distance. These places that cannot be touched by the soul must be helped by language. Although many times, we will lie and whitewash our most private things, but there is always a part of the truth when we say it.
The film tries to dig out the truest side of human nature, and the ideas it expresses have many similarities with our lives. The two sons in the Moroccan family, the eldest who is cowardly and stupid, and the second who is rebellious and clever, reminds me of the Jue Xin brothers in "Home"; an American couple trying to release their stress through travel after losing a child, Reminds me of the eldest sister couple in "Romantic Matters" whose marriage eventually broke down because of the loss of a child; the Mexican woman's nephew reminds me of a neighbor's uncle who is single but very popular with children; the mother of a Japanese girl committed suicide Dead, and her pursuit of recognition reminds me of all young people today. No one wants to be ignored, especially for reasons beyond their control.
What amazes me is the contrast of the two scenes. The Moroccan boy took up the rifle early in order to protect his flock; the expression of the American boy when he saw the Mexican twist the rooster's neck directly expresses the values of a civilized society. Killing, in barbarism and civilization, has diametrically opposed parts of speech. Some people may say that civilization is a little weak compared to that primitive barbarism, but the price of blood is something I don't want to pay anymore. Or, from now on, I will never eat food related to blood again, because this time I truly discovered the cruelty of blood. In the end, after the death of his brother, the Moroccan boy took the initiative to break his gun on the stone, and the American boy reluctantly played the role of protecting his sister.
There are sheep skeletons on the sheepskins waiting for the wind to dry on the walls, which from a distance look like the crosses that can be seen everywhere on the roadside of Mexican women when they return home. How many of us are torturing our own souls? Like Jesus or like Buddha, where are the people who ask themselves? We can see others, but we can't see ourselves, we can't even see our nose, the organ closest to the eyes.
Xiao Shushen in Liang Jingru's "Courage" is still very young, and the reason why the barterman rejected her was "you are too young"; the reason why the Japanese girl dedicated herself to the male police officer was "you are still a child". I don't know if they will reject this kind of beauty in real life, the pure and clear beauty seems like a crystal. Can't bear to hurt because of beauty? I always feel that this is not a reason. Lianxiangxiyu is a virtue that cannot be traced back; the inability to bear in my heart is the truth that is concealed.
Communication is important. American couples have been looking for the best time to communicate, and a bullet ends and the process starts again; Japanese girls can't speak their minds, eyes and words can help her, and her father's hug gives her enough strength; Moroccan family It may seem rude, but for people living in those conditions, what more could you expect? Survival is already admirable; mothers and sons in Mexico seem to communicate little, and at last the mother's return comes through a helpless way. This kind of consummation may be what we look forward to, but after the interweaving of blood, tears, and sweat, can you still bear the weight of consummation?
I have never been able to forget the sight of a Mexican woman lost in the desert, and the desperation of the sky and the earth, which terrifies me. Talking without a response is hurtful. It is recommended to listen to Eason Chan's "shall we talk"...
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