yes.I'm your butterfly, Reivew on M. Butterfly

The first time I met Jeremy Irons was in Lolita. The middle-aged man who was deeply infatuated with girls. Here, see him again. Still affectionate. Still sometimes blurred eyes. Even without words, his eyes can tell you his fall and his love. I have always been very surprised. In the past ten years of life, every time the passion is combined, has he never found out that he is a man? Or maybe he's found out but doesn't want to admit it.
Later I understood. Not undiscovered. But never doubt. He fell in love with this man who was fascinated by him. Willing to run for him and die for him. Believe everything he says. No matter how unconvincing those so-called customs and ways of making love are.
But he believed it all. For these customs and methods that maybe only he has heard of in the whole world. He believed it all.
So I'm no longer obsessed with whether he can accept his lover's long-term deception. those ten years. those intimate. That cute kid. The one with soft lips. Everything is illusory.
only his love. So true.
I got down on my knees and sang an elegy of love to you.
my name is René Gallimard. The other name is
— butterfly.

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