Herzog's masterpiece, but we won't talk about Herzog today, nor about film art, only Kaspar. Fifteen years away from the world, he was utterly pure and ignorant, not knowing how to read and write, how to sit or walk, or even to fear. Curious, kind-hearted people, teach him, irrigate him, watch him, try to tame him. Most of us have been walking under this social rule for too long. What is good and what is bad seems to be easy to grasp, but also seems to be ignorant, it is difficult to explain, and the world is not black and white. But with Kaspar, everything seemed simpler. No logic, no faith, just inner voice. He has nothing but life, but isn't that enough? In the end, people tried to interpret his "deformity" physically, but Kaspar didn't interpret anyone psychologically. You can teach him, but he can choose not to believe. If you don't understand too many words, you can still write an autobiography, but not for anyone to read. Being different is never "deformed". I came here, is the biggest fall of life.
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