Morocco, Mexico, Japan, the tragedies that appear to be unrelated, are actually closely related. Unknown instruments play a few notes at the right time, hitting the hearts of the viewers.
Shouldn't the world be like this:
Japanese girl finds a boy she can love;
Moroccan boy shoots a jackal with great marksmanship;
American couple completes trip to Africa;
Mexican maid attends her son's wedding and returns with tricks Home awaits their parents.
I am naive.
Or rather, I am confused.
What makes everything a farce?
Not gunfire, not bullets, not accident.
Is it a lack of emotion or discipline?
Do not. I saw the theme of love repeated countless times in the film: the husband's care for his wife, the maid's care for the child, the police officer's consideration for the deaf girl, and the father's protection for his ignorant son. Even strangers of different races and languages maintain the factors of understanding and caring. When the helicopter came, I knew that the ending would be light and warm. The local people refused the financial thanks given by the American man, which was civilized and polite.
The law is there, the moral standard is there, so what caused these irreversible tragedies?
My thinking is stuck here.
Alright alright, this review has just begun.
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