Vincent's sonorous declaration of "I never saved anything for the swim back" in the face of fate is admirable and touching, but at the end, the doctor talked about his son with birth defects as usual until the truth came out, and he was never willing to be submissive to others. The Geron Morrow wore a silver medal and chose the Hemingway-style phoenix nirvana. Vincent was on the road to the dream. When he was about to touch the dream, he looked back and realized that the dream had already been carried. The hope of more people:
I just borrowed your identity, and you let me share your dream.
(I got the better end of the deal. I only lent you my body. You lent me your dream.)
And the power of this dream is even more moving.
I have seen too many inspirational passages related to spaceflight, because breaking through gravity and flying to the starry sky always means a breakthrough that breaks through the constraints, but Gattaca unexpectedly gave a new interpretation of the dream:
I must admit that at this time I Kind of reluctant to leave. (I must confess I'm suddenly having a hard time leaving it.) Of course it is said that every atom in our body was once part of the starry sky. (Of course they say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star.) Maybe I'm not leaving, I'm just on my way home. (Maybe I'm not leaving, maybe I'm going home.)
The camera turns from the deep eyes under the protagonist's inner narration to the vast stars, slowly fades out, and ends.
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