It can be said that whether it is to induce tears or to slap people in love, the dog director has no other tricks.
Oh, yes, there is also a reversal!
In terms of movies, Li Yi has really played with literary youth stuff, such as "Cinema Paradiso", a movie known as a love letter to movies. The collection of kissing scenes in it can be called a classic.
But when it comes to short films, I’ve really never done that.
While many people were talking about it, Li Yi was comforting his pregnant wife at home.
As Li Yi's daughter-in-law, Mu Qing naturally didn't need to wait for the short film to be released like others. Instead, out of curiosity, she watched it at home in advance, and then she burst into tears.
"Uuuuuuuuuah, when I went back last time, I saw that my dad had white hair on his temples." Mu Qing said with red eyes.
"Well, I'll go back with you to take a look when I have time." Li Yi nodded.
In fact, even he himself is particularly intolerant of this song. Even though his family, childhood experience and the story described in this song are completely different things, there are many things in common.
My father will always grow old. No matter whether he is rich or poor, time is always fair in this regard.
Although his father is doing well now, and although he has not remarried his mother, it is actually almost the same.
The two are inseparable, traveling domestically and abroad every day. Not long ago, they even took their grandson to ski in Switzerland.
But they are indeed old, this is an indisputable fact.
If a family like Li Yi's is like this, there's no need to talk about other people.
Time flies, and Father’s Day is here in the blink of an eye.
Compared with the atmosphere of Mother's Day, Father's Day is obviously much different. Of course, the popularity on the Internet is definitely not bad.
At nine o'clock in the morning on Father's Day, "Father's Prose Poetry", which should be regarded as the MV short film, was officially launched.
Many people clicked on the short video link immediately.
Chu Xixi and Lu Xinguang looked at the "Director Li Yi's Works" on the screen together, looking at each other as if they were in deep understanding, and both smiled sweetly.
In the hospital ward, there was an old man on the bed, with an intravenous drip still hanging on his hand. He was asleep. Beside the hospital bed, his daughter was lying there, holding the old man's hand. Suddenly, a hand gently patted her daughter's.
Shoulder, waking up the sleeping daughter.
She raised her head and was about to speak when her husband made a shushing gesture.
The daughter glanced at her father who was sleeping soundly on the hospital bed and nodded.
She stood up and looked at her old father on the hospital bed again. The age spots on his face suddenly hit her daughter's eyes, making her eyes turn red again.
The husband squeezed his wife's shoulders with both hands to comfort her.
The wife shook her head.
After walking out of the ward, the two of them spoke.
"You've been here for several days. Dad's illness doesn't happen in a day or two. You go back and take a shower, change clothes and have a good rest. I'm here with you," the husband said harmoniously.
The wife nodded and glanced at the old father in the ward.
"By the way, I went to my dad's house to have a look. I was sent to the hospital urgently..."
As soon as the camera turned, the door was pushed open, and the old furniture revealed the mottled traces of time under the dim light. The most conspicuous thing was the photo frame on the table. Inside the photo frame was an old photo. The father in the photo was still young. The photo
The daughter here is still immature.
The daughter reached out and picked up the photo and wiped it gently.
Pushing open a door, this is a study room filled with books.
The daughter seemed to be able to see her father sitting behind the desk, writing furiously.
She reached out and took down a few books from the bookshelf, planning to take them to the hospital to read to her father.
Suddenly an old thread-bound diary caught her eye. She put the other books on the desk and took down the diary.
Sitting on the chair where her father often sat, she opened the diary full of traces of time.
On the yellowed paper, the handwriting written by the pen is still clear.
The melody of music sounded, and on the yellowed diary page, "Summer, 1984" was written.
The daughter looked at her father's familiar handwriting and couldn't help but shed tears.
She quickly reached out to wipe it, but it was like time had gone forever. No matter how hard she wiped, she could not wipe away the traces.
