Because her beauty is incomparable, her talent is unmatched, her suffering and glory, her luck and tragedy, I don’t know any other woman who is as complicated and contradictory as hers, fragile and romantic, beautiful and indulgent. The genius and the humble, the noble and the vulgar, merged into a petite and weak figure so wonderfully, so that she was overwhelmed and destroyed in madness.
A person who has been stared deeply by the devil, his eyes will be blinded, and Nietzsche is crazy.
A person is endowed with unparalleled beauty and talent, enthusiasm and sensitivity, and a volcano-like soul hidden in a delicate porcelain-like fragile body, then she will collapse.
Whenever I stare at her face, I feel confused and confused.
It's not Garbo's glamorous and compelling, it's not Taylor's dazzling brilliance, and it's not Hepburn's mellow and sweet, her beauty is peculiar.
Scarlett O'Hara is not beautiful.
Such a face is a mixture of innocence and evil, coldness and enthusiasm, elegance and debauchery, classical and crude, madness and rationality.
Her beauty is a completely contradictory combination. The beautiful lines and exquisite outlines can't hide the repressed anger or even madness.
She stood there.
London bridge in rain and fog.
The wind blew her brown curly hair back, and
her slender body was wrapped in a British raincoat, and
her eyes were staring at the river.
Suddenly, she turned her head, her
green eyes flashed with fire-like enthusiasm, and
she was looking for her lover.
Later,
the flame in her eyes gradually extinguished, and
sad tears filled her eyes.
The rain washed everything around,
she slowly walked into the distance,
she quickened her pace,
her eyes!
Her eyes!
Shining with madness and despair, as if hearing a mysterious call,
she resolutely walked into Yongsheng.
Vivien Leigh is such an actor. Her films only allow her to exist alone. Her energy is too strong, and ordinary actors can't hold her down. Only strong men like Gable and Brando could control this woman.
I always felt that her choice of Oliver was a mistake in both life and stage. Her soul needs a prince, but his body needs a thug.
Oliver is essentially a weak and swaying British man. In their stories, she directed her own tragedy. Her desire and control attempts were intertwined with crazy love and worship, and finally defeated the weak one. Man, destroyed herself.
Therefore, she will regard the driver and the postman as the object of seduce. She has relationships with men, looking for a sense of security and balance in dreams. She would say shrew-style swear words at every episode of bipolar disorder.
Her soul is the battlefield of the devil and genius, and finally tore her to pieces.
It is such a weak, diseased, porcelain-like fragile woman who has left an artistic classic that no one can surpass for later generations. Her greatness lies not in her talent, but in her soul. Each of her roles is interpreted with life. Every performance has experienced a cruel torture for her. She uses life to trade with the devil. People get eternal honor. She overdrafted herself in order to burn out her life in glory, and she couldn't stand mediocrity. Whether it is art or love, it must be different.
If it is a flower, I would like to compare it to cherry blossoms.
The cherry blossoms all over the hills and plains drifted in an instant, covering the entire mountain peak. How magnificent, beautiful and strong, yet poignant and romantic.
I have always admired the profound Chinese and Western literary accomplishments of the older translators. The Soul Duan Lanqiao is taken from an ancient Chinese folk tale. A pair of childhood sweethearts separated due to the chaos of the war, and agreed to leave together on the blue bridge after reuniting. When the water was flooding the Blue Bridge, the man who arrived first refused to breach his contract and drowned on the bridge. When the woman came to see this scene, she jumped into the water to feel affection.
It turns out that love stories in the world are all the same.
The so-called Iraqi people pass away with the wind.
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