mot mot mot

This frame is from the ending with the song ‘Rain man’ by Akihide and even if it’s just this frame you can guess the story behind it: Ran probably lost a karate match and she’s so sad so she went out under the rain and maybe cried a little, but then Shinichi arrives and he covers her with an umbrella but since it’s his umbrella the rain falls on him and he’s all wet but he doesn’t care because he doesn’t want Ran to get wet and even if he doesn’t know what to say to comfort her he just wants to sit next to her and protect her from the rain.

4

Scholars analyzing national cinemas observe that representations of the nation are closely tied to images of land and landscape in film. Emma Widdis (2010) shows that Russian landscapes in cinema contain an ideological imperative in demonstrating “the struggle between individual and collective and a vision of the natural world as an index of subjectivity and its symbolization as a force of history.” Similarly, Bob Britton examines the development of Cuban cinema and the genre of documentary to argue that the “portrayal of landscape” has been a formative premise in Cuban films. Such work has “[mapped] a cultural terra nova of the Revolution” and “shap[ed] aspects of both film and filmmaking in Cuba since 1959” (Britton 2010). In the same vein, Vietnamese films, particularly those made during the era of revolutionary filmmaking, capture the country’s geography in film not only as an ideological placeholder for the country but also as an expressive tool to aestheticize sentiment about the nation. As an objective correlative for the figuration of love, fear, or sorrow, landscape in Vietnamese films is allegorical and endowed with a profound sense of poetry.

Examples of this dynamic abound in the film On the Same River. Centered on two young lovers who live on opposite sides of the Bến Hải River, the black-and-white film retells the story of revolution among the Vietnamese peasantry. Emphasizing the nobility of the nation’s quest for independence, the film is especially significant for its depiction of strong heroines, characters who are not only married to their husbands but also to the nation.[…] In this film, landscape is strongly tied to the thematic of reunification of North and South and the gendering of the nation. The film is paradigmatic of the ways that revolutionary Vietnamese filmmaking deploys both gender and landscape to symbolize the fight for national independence. However, the film also invests in the landscape an autonomous expression, especially when the landscape is used to lyrically communicate the characters’ emotions. Cued by shot/reverse shots of the characters parting and looking off into the sky, for example, a pair of birds may be understood as a metaphor for the lovers and their separation in the film, while a lone boat on the river represents a woman’s despair and loneliness. Linking the land to its people, the film traffics in a visual vocabulary that emphasizes the film’s Manichean conflict between occupying imperialists and an oppressed people. Part of its “expressive grammar,” to use Eve Sedgwick’s (2003) phrase, lies in the characters’ inherent relationship to the land and their acts of insurgence that lay claim to it.

On the Same River | Chung một dòng sông (Nguyễn Hồng Nghi, Phạm Kỳ Nam, 1959): Gender, affect, and landscape: wartime films from Northern and Southern Vietnam by Lan Duong.

Je suis devenu solitaire, ou, comme ils disent, insociable et misanthrope, parce que la plus sauvage solitude me paraît préférable à la société des méchants, qui ne se nourrit que de trahisons et de haine.
—  Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Ce sont les enfants sages, Madame, qui font les révolutionnaires les plus terribles. Ils ne disent rien, ils ne se cachent pas sous la table, ils ne mangent qu'un bonbon à la fois, mais plus tard ils le font payer cher à la société. Méfiez-vous des enfants sages.
—  Jean-Paul Sartre
J'ai appris que quand elle me disait de partir je devais rester, que quand elle m'ordonnait de me taire je devais parler d'avantage, que sa colère n'était que l'image de son amour et de son inquiétude, que sa froideur ne reflétait que la peur et la souffrance qu'elle se faisait à l'idée de me perdre. J'ai compris que cette femme était un paradoxe fait de chaire, de sang et d'amour pour un imbécile qui n'a pris conscience de sa valeur que quand elle est partie.
—  lesmotsdusoir