You know, it's not words that I care about at all, it's me and you, here. Where is this place?
- Have we really not been here? So why, the décor of the bathroom curtains, the rare built-in bathtub in the European-style room, and the cabin that looks like a campfire horror movie are all familiar?
Have we really not experienced all this? Or am I just constantly experiencing a deja vu, as if I were having seizures all the time?
"Or maybe my power is about foreknowledge—a superpower that can't be distinguished from pathology—and I see your end—with an uneasy premonition, but also in search of a predestined ending."
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" > 1</h1>
Re-watching Richard Linklater's "Love in" trilogy these days, I don't know why I used to hate "Before Sunrise" so much, and I saw the post of my film friends before I suddenly realized - because I didn't believe in the "love of the day" that this film offered.
If this film is about "if you and this life will only meet once soul mate, only one day, how will you live", then I will want to live like a person who has no end and beginning, no life, rather than "life is just a gap, how unique that day is", it is too disrespectful to life, disrespectful to the only, disrespectful to live... Linklater's later film Where'd You Go, Bernadette's discussion of "three geniuses" also represents a "miraculous" genius; the "Love in" trilogy can be seen as several discourses about love. The persuasiveness of Bernadette where have you been is based on the competition and nourishment of three geniuses in a family, but "Love Before the Dawn Breaks" as the first "love" first argument... is incredibly naïve.
Although the miraculous moment at the end, the male and female protagonists dance in the street window to hear the harpsichord, and Céline (Julie Butterfly) is incredibly beautiful (staying up late dimmed eye sockets, blond curly hair... Botticelli's angels), so that the whole film of men and women nagging each other to "seize this moment" obsession finally sublimated; but if this whole film is not regarded as a "fictional" layer of the second male protagonist's opening book (writing "a day of love"), I still can't convince me. I think of Synchronic, which my friends have always loved and tired of before dawn. The protagonist watches his friend enter into marriage and has a cute child, and that child is involved in the trouble of "time medicine", so, like "TENET Creed", the "protagonist" slowly realizes that his future self has done more about the "past" while rescuing. And relatively in the infinite plan of the protagonist, the friends of the family occasionally show a depressed daily dispute, and even a sentence from a friend, downplaying another kind of "endless": it is lucky to meet a loved one, but it has already happened (What happened is behind you) "Love", the same happened and happened; met, happened, and then what? Or what do you mean by "loved ones," "true love," and "soul mates."
Sounds like a distinction between reality and appearance; or, crudely, how can the crown of "true love" be like a monotheistic religion, and how can the unshakable faith be maintained, repeated day after day like purgatory? For example, the "day after day" of friends in "Synchronization" is another time torrent relative to the protagonist's space-time device.
And the two protagonists of "Love Before the Dawn Breaks" think that "love for a day", how can it not be worn? On the other hand, why shouldn't trivial business be a trickle of love? There are other miscellaneous things— for example, for you, that I can endure the boredom of "day in and day out", is that boring still boring? Or do you really love because you love you?
< h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" >2. Zashiki Doji</h1>
I used to think that I was living like a child, but then I found out that this was not the case? All awareness, after awareness, is no more than that.
"I feel very cold for my proficiency in remembering. She herself lives at the end of the Network, the screen flashes with a silky fire, behind her is a snake, it is a cologne, it is a tyrannical feeding that cannot digest information... she guards herself in such a plain face, just like the old lady who wears the white yarn weaving time nest city in the past and is firmly located in a certain hour, but she is like a child, not yet as good as the gelatinity that belongs to any moment, plain face, a little light and heat that inhabits this plain color.
The city is filled with blurred faces. Sometimes the habitual temperature would surround her, and she felt that she was being heard... it was a gap now... those were all stories, but they said, the things that have gone, and withered, they thought that she would also be evaporated like water vapor, she just squeezed her mouth and stared at her eyes under the ice floes, they looked at their reflections on the top, and when they melted the snow, they didn't have to remember to forget, she thought, she was silent like the corpse of the stars, like the streamer of death."
The second part, "Before Sunset", begins with a discussion with the author of the book written by the male protagonist Jesse (Ethan Hawk) on the first story, and after telling it, he wants to write a story that takes place within a pop song, the middle class who has empty dreams but feels that the days are empty, but more about the time when he has a cute daughter but is "in" with his first love in high school, the romance of "time and space is not either/or". The film also sharply inserts flashbacks about Céline in the first part...
Then, years later, she suddenly appeared at the lecture hall.
I can't help but think of the previous one as a smudging or fictional from Jesse's point of view; or conversely, I can't help but see this man and woman, who at first glance but may actually be first sight, as another love, in another person who seems to be familiar and easy to project the state of mind. A writer, a woman with a spring breeze, wrote a book, sealed. Then he fell in love at first sight again in the lecture, like the other she he had carefully studied at the beginning of the train.
This Céline is different from the fictional one, Céline (2) is different from Céline (1). On a holy night, a monotheistic pilgrimage has passed, another love affair has begun, and another contract with another woman of equal age has taken shape. Rather than pretending to forget their sexual affair, she later pretended to "pretend to forget", which was just another kind of fiction: like in her childhood memories, the mother warned her child about sexual harassment, causing her to forcibly lock street images and sex into a connection. Also like Jesse's sister-in-law approach, the archetype of telling a certain kind of love is always a good trapping — he's more evolved than he was after the train hookup. When they are "talking" about love, they can finally make up their love for each other, so good that it comes true.
"Talking together" "talking" about love, "talking" about the self-righteousness of love, in fact, the attention, posture, and gestures on the train are all "agreed" that have been clearly understood. They still insisted on using "talking", as if they could break down love through words, but soon assembled it again with their bodies and voices. But is it possible to "talk" endlessly like this?
Is the word a futile? Will people who pay attention to words be more likely to wear out in them?
With so many words, as an audience, I don't want to care about their every sentence, or even really care about any of them... but would rather be the ghost perspective of their obsession with "remembering that moment". This is a battle of surrender and appropriation that extends to the audience's private time, even relationships and conversational practices. Grasping the time with words, the male and female whispers of the "Love In" series, but also the crazy talk in Linklater's "Slacker", are too simple and clear "Ulysses" style whispers... those who have a mind to go back and forth, thinking that they are smart and sophisticated, and the clumsy embarrassment of deliberateing and tentative actions is just a trap that falls solidly with a hug and a verbal invitation, and in an instant they build what seems like an endless staircase and can go down.
Words can only deceive themselves; the two talk, constructing their own tacit understanding, atmosphere, and secrets. The book he wrote at the beginning, the song she sang at the end, sealed. But sealed: I am drowning in this moment, and I have to remember this moment; to make both things true at the same time.
"I really think that memory is like the door of time, as long as you memorize the door and familiarize yourself with the road, it is enough to reach, push the door open or you bow your head down at the desk and silently write in the morning, on the eve of the rag mop rack to refract the golden dust, will also be the daily sound of the occasional, discordant magical sound group." 」 To say to yourself, to remember is like remembering the wonders of a one-time trip, and if you forget, you can't know more than the world's most famous score."
I remembered this experiment I had done—staring at the dust-diffused pillar of light in the twilight corridor, practicing, I wanted to remember this moment, this scene, not why—and it was always as clear as if I had opened a drawer and found it there.
At the end of the film, Céline sings her song about Jesse: of course, the lyrics are not written for you, but of course it is because of you, in order to stir you up; and although the solo dance is embarrassing, the embarrassment itself is also a lovely and pitiful heart machine, and the appreciation with tears in your eyes; if I want to pick you up at this moment, it belongs only to me, but not you belong to me. Years later, through this mutual who seems to be the opponent of the year and the new challenger, it seems that they can live as if they are not fixed by the long relationship and are not projected by each other; as if the exaggerated self-righteousness of understanding, being understood, and understanding the other party's matter is understood, and the circle of peace of mind is as fresh as yesterday' construction; as if because of this, I and another self can be seen so far away... But going back to the starting point, if in the whole "Love In" universe, I can't accept how the melody of the first part, that basic tone, will continue.
Watching the hearts of people who love this film willingly spend and give up their "talk" to this movie, or watching Jesse and Céline's spirit of dissatisfaction with life and their own dissatisfaction pinned on the driftwood of "talking", finally merged into the imagination of "another possible self" in the second part. And I am like the protagonist of "Synchronization", looking at the friend who embraces this love but lives in the daily purgatory, as if I have survived, but I have also paid my own price.
< h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" >3. Mediterranean Lover</h1>
"Do you remember we were in Greece?" "Did you say Cena?" John Cena？ Deng-Deng, Deng-" "I'm seriously asking." "I remember a lot of things, which one are you going to listen to?"
In the third part of Before Midnight, the opening is jesse and her son's airport farewell, from the exchange of a large number of talks in one or two parts to a non-stop, the words are still meaningless, no longer so the moment of self-sublimation - the second hypothetical daughter of another time and space and sleeveless dress also appears, every friction between Jesse and Céline is also heated and sticky, the more intimate the mouth, the gradual dilution and slight play and self-deprecation in life, There is still a small Wenqing interest of the year.
Or, with mobile phones, vegetables and fruits and other objects, steps, daily routines and jagged large numbers of shots, many years later, many years later, more years later, the words spoken at this time make people feel: Haven't they all already said it? If you are convinced that everything that a movie has said and happened has already been experienced, it is from the first one that waited, expected, or always been there, "day after day of purgatory." Or do you feel that celine (3) around you, as if Celine (2) and (1), but it is clear that it is not really, but because, when you feel that the memories of yesterday are as fresh as yesterday, it is clear that it is many years ago... How can the person next to the pillow be yesterday's girl?
In Jesse's new novel about the lengthy title of "Fleeting", the characters' unique perspectives on memory cognition are actually the same thing.
Under the timeless Greek sun, rocks, fossils, and death are heavier than love desires.
How to shoot such a time illusion of time perception turbulence? And why do people fall in love with a movie that can't be made without stacking it over time? People go on with movies. Life is longer than movies. At first glance, the background of the blur is life, filled with words, but the words are like the dust under the pillar of light suspended, diffuse and can not cover those ... at any time to grasp, at any time to think that it will be lost, but overwhelmingly filling, a kind of "I remember..." of the reclamation method. At that moment, "nothing happened", at first glance a lot of exchanges, comments, supplements... but it is full of contradictions about their own status quo, contradictions in context - people wondering, what is going on? When we talk about ""," it is not "what" is, but what is it to talk about?
I always feel a sense of wasting at any time after filling up.
Another "withdrawal" from the first encounter of the first encounter: from the child's parents, strange into a pair of middle-aged men and women who meet each other, talk about the content of thinking they know each other, at first glance there is a common memory, in fact, it is preserved into a different time and space drawer of each other... quietly hides every false proposition of "now you will not talk to me". But to say "withdraw" – isn't that what it is?
Isn't this the gesture of our usual speech and walking... and we never need to stay so hard to write down, or sublimate anything, because it is always so. When I was with you, because it was me and you, I felt that the narcissistic Wenqing of "Love Goes at Dawn" and the blind sister's exchanges I didn't need at all, I didn't need fakes.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right">4. To Be Continued</h1>
"Quite simply, I don't think I love you anymore." The stickiness of the mouth may turn into the dryness of quarrels in an instant -- words as a channel for physiology, psychology, and relationships will slowly, one day dry up.
But it doesn't matter, the original words are completely untrustworthy, never divine and unique. Hurtful words blurted out, and they immediately understood each other, but not as aware as penetrating life, but only the habit of being slowly infiltrated by life.
In this way, the me who is disgusted with the first part, and the people who try to show each other through words, and think that they are in love with each other... in fact, they share a certain kind of excessive rejection or excessive delay, and the innocence of being one and two sides.
The magic of discourse lies in "playing", in extracting from the everyday, and then simulating this withdrawal, in order to return; so when we quarrel, we have to joke, not a strategy higher than life, but a parody of daily operation.
"Miss, are you alone?" Or are you waiting for someone? I don't mean to offend you, but you're the most beautiful woman here... from the first temptation, the strategy of "talking" about love, to the reunion of "the sweetness of life" (pseudo)documentary (Intervista, 1987)...
"I'm not a character in your story," the woman replied.
Your beauty illuminates my moments, my books, but you have also been fixed as a lamp to accompany me for so many years. The light will change, the days will flow at first glance... but even more so, at the bleak moment when the magic is punctured, I find that what I am willing to talk about, whether it is "talking" about love or not, the objects that are willing to spend time are all tricks, they are forced to cultivate feelings, they are brewing, and they all quietly promise to survive.