And never have I felt so deeply at one and the same time So detached from myself and so present in the world.
This is a film about the pain of life. The inseparable self and the real world are intertwined, which makes us feel powerless and fail at those moments when we want to save and seek redemption. We feel that we are trying to pursue infinite beauty in everything with limitations. Maybe everything in the world is just a sweet dream. If we give ourselves to ourselves completely or to reality, the result may be the same, endless nothingness, endless failure and endless absurdity.
Facing the pain of reality, the endless pressure that appears out of thin air, what will we do? Closed? Depressed? Indulge? Or indifference. Perhaps as Camus said, he is far from insensitive, and he has a persistent and deep passion for absolute and real passion. In the face of all this, we may have no choice but to live without hesitation and try our best to live, and its significance cannot be explored. Happiness and absurdity are two sons in the same land. All seemingly absurd deaths seem to have their own happiness. Suicide may really be a permanent peaceful way away from those temporary troubles. And all happiness, also may be from the absurd discovery.
The Chinese translation of the film is detached. In fact, I prefer to understand it as fragmented. Human beings have suffered endless hardships, and the most difficult thing to contain is that human beings are always trying to separate themselves from reality. It seems that only in this way can we feel at ease. However, this is often not the case, and the existence of self and reality cannot be separated, because our so-called self, like all the egos in the film, is not an empty self, which connects the past, others and everything. We feel that it is close at hand, but it is very far away. We keep looking for it, but before we find it, we find that it has already collapsed.
As for existence, we often understand it as objective, but sometimes, when the fragile mind confirms this problem, it is often according to others. Only when I see it from others' eyes is my real existence in the objective world. Only through others can I feel that I exist. Through other people's words, hugs and emotions, I feel that I have established a weak and tenacious connection with the world. And when all this goes away from me, I'm already dead.
Maybe everyone's self is a castle. In the labyrinth of this castle, we can't have the patience and energy to find out all the internal structures, so we walk out of the city gate. We start looking for other castles and repair their external walls to make them look brand-new. However, we can't actually walk through the inner labyrinth of any castle, whether it's our own or everyone else's. In the final analysis, everything is in vain.
The paradox of the world lies in the fact that while we are in endless contact with each other, we believe that each of us is completely independent and free. Therefore, we constantly try to influence others, and at the same time, we constantly build our own dikes to protect some inexplicable things. Between the two, it may be irreconcilable. Perhaps this is the reason why the film chooses the profession of teacher to narrate, teaching students to keep their own ideas while teaching them ideas. This seems to be a logical paradox. If I accept the idea that others taught me to keep my independent thoughts, in fact, my independent thoughts no longer exist. Therefore, what welcomes everything must be death, collapse and nothingness.
People living in this contradiction may be just like this teacher. He keeps helping others, but keeps a delicate distance. He keeps influencing others, but always excludes others from himself. He is a liberal on the surface, but he tries to save some sorrow and death and put the world into order. He is so contradictory as all of us.
The film begins with Camus's words and tells a story in the third person that is applicable to all first persons. It gives people a sense of confusion that I am so far away from myself and my existence is so real. At the end of the film, it first gives us infinite hope with a warm hug bathed in the sunshine, and then it is shattered in the ruins of the decadent.
Perhaps, with limited life, we can only face the absurd reality, devote enormous enthusiasm, and become a ridiculous hero without considering its significance, just like Sisyphus in Camus's works.
In the meaningless world that I try to take on by myself, you are not here, and I am not here. You see my existence, but I am just an exorcism. And where you and I are, you don't know, and I don't know. I only know that there is always a shackle around, which makes people want to break through constantly, but often ends in vain.
The charm of movies is twofold, which mixes the common cognition of the masses and the extreme individualistic daydream of literature. Therefore, a good film lies not only in its good color tone, lens and excellent performance of actors, but also in endless wisdom and thinking, although such thinking is often extremely painful.