(It's a memoir of watching the movie.)
I like the bow that the female protagonist put on her index finger when she bandaged the male protagonist for the first time; I like that the male protagonist climbs up the roof from the attic window and walks on the back of life; I like the male protagonist telling the female protagonist to close her eyes and clip her head Repeatedly rubbing back and forth between the hands, it will sound like stepping on the snow; I like the broken hand lying on the baby's belly, up and down with the breathing; I like the baby gently sleeping in the sleep A picture of holding the index finger of a severed hand.
Love all the front-to-back details.
- Est-ce que tu crois au destin?
- Comme si tout était écrit d'avance, on suivrait une trajectoire?
- Ouais.
- Mais qu'on pourrait rien changer?
- On croit qu'on peut, mais non, c'est une illusion, à moins de faire... un truc complètement imprévisible et irrationnel.
French cartoons have never disappointed me. They can still combine a series of styles, themes, and emotions that seem to be impossible to relate to, such as paradox, warmth, and self. What is even more commendable is that they have never felt any physicality because of this. And mental discomfort, zero burden and zero stress, but slowly and softly sewn together with life for a long time.
The French are still selfish. Wherever they shoot, they feel enough and stop. They don’t demand logic and don’t care about the audience’s thoughts. The emotional points are still condensed to a peak, but not overly strong or overly punchy.
Just suddenly.
There are no more redundant emotional lines, whether it is the father's broken hand or the heroine, and what happened to the male lead later, no one knows, and there is no need to know. Sitting on the pendant and watching Xueluo, the final focus is only on him.
Others are no longer important and do not need to be repeated.
Shanghai this year, for me, did not snow. He told me that on the day when there was a little snow in the morning, I slept until noon, the sun was shining, and there was no snow.
I hope that one day I can watch the snow in Paris. I hope that one day, I can do something unpredictable and unreasonable to bypass fate and keep running.
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