Some people feel that there is a breath of Lily Zhou, because there is a white collar inside, there is a bicycle riding on a path in the woods at night, and there is an invisible sadness, fear and forgetting that stabs at other people's bodies and their own souls. But Lily Zhou's grass is a frosty cyan, and the grass in this film is a greenish gray.
It is not an ordinary disaster film, it is so peaceful in comparison: no matter how a person's heart and spirit fluctuate and collapse, in fact, they can be completely inconspicuous in other people's worlds, and a person's worldview can only belong to one person. There is no picture of the whirlpool of dreams, but all the while feigning composure before being dizzy. It is not an ordinary sci-fi film. The statement about black holes and wormholes is more like the trials of medieval alchemists, with Byzantine-like colors, with allusions to one's beliefs and mockery of the other. It's not your average "Cruel Story of Youth", it travels through age and descends beyond the endpoints of consciousness in a non-linear time.
Jack's performance is very good. When the show started, I was drawing other paintings. I couldn't help but draw his smooth lips and side profile on the paper. The sedative compounded by free will and water penetrates the nerves of youth when loneliness begins to tremble, so as to hypnotize, or enter the dream, or walk out of the dream; Drew Barrymore's female teacher has the temperament I like, atmospheric and real.
It is a debut novel.
It's the closest thing I've ever come to thinking about doomsday.
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