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<The Wild Pearl Tree>

They kiss as they kiss the mountains, the past and the rain

By AnselRancePublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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The wind swept through the trees, and some secret passion loitered in the great undulations, and the soft silks fell.

She kissed him.

Quiet, romantic, the light and shadow at that time almost seemed to break away from the reality, presenting the water as transparent. They can temporarily forget their current identity. He is just a young man who bullied girls to attract attention. She is not a woman who is about to enter a marriage of interest and keeps smoking.

The tender kisses under the leaves should be the best part of the film. The rest is anger, depravity and cynicism. For Ceylon, the home of Anatolia, was a dead place, with wild pear trees everywhere as alien, lonely, and deformed as the countless unremarkable people in the village continued to rot on the barren soil. He hated and despised the things in front of him and the poor life that his father had dragged down. Only, the publication of "The Wild Pear Tree" could deceive him and he had talents and dreams, he was different from others.

Ironically, the source of the work he was so proud of was the hometown he hated, and even the father he regarded as a waste. I don't want to admit it, but subconsciously he was attracted to the place full of wild pear trees, just as he was attracted to the woman who looked forward to the distance and adventure. But he will not do anything, like the young men of Tarzan, lost all the vitality to change the status quo. When she bit her lip, she was confused, but could not say a word that I liked you. After watching the woman from a distance, bragging and fighting with another loser for courtship on the side of the pool, just as she said, yes, she would not marry a child.

Ceylon's depression, acrimony, and disdain were his means of keeping himself from being swallowed up by the cruelty of society. Only by wrapping himself up in thorns and laughing at all who looked down upon him could he continue to recognize himself, like a wounded animal exhausted from the threat of the outside world. Yes, he seemed mad, and few could understand the useless despair that oppressed him further with despair and solitude, and gave rise to the nightmare of hiding in the body of the horse and getting deep into the enemy. A mayor, a businessman, or a writer, Ceylon's tit for tit has all gone badly wrong after a vain and proud appeal.

He was afraid that he would end up as mediocre as a mountain pear tree, so he was crazy to publish his novels, even if he had to steal dogs to sell them. And this is exactly where the father's image of a gambler turned from one of complete rubbish. This so-called cancer like no good father, suddenly so pathetic, even touching. Perhaps he is the one who has not been swallowed up by reality. He still loves and cherishes love, he gives the child the greatest freedom, he talks about the earth and the smell of the lamb and the color of the fields while others discuss money. He was still he, still heeding the woods, the footsteps of wolves, and the sounds of nature. He is not the most antipathetic of the wild pear trees, Ceylon has parents silently wish, he, only a dog companion, never abandon their own, but also stolen by their own son to realize their desire. Did he blame anyone? He only sobbed silently in the night, and secretly drew countless pictures of the seeking dog. He did not want to bother others with his vulnerability and softness, which was not recognized by this era.

It is hard for Ceylon to realise that he is much like his father, a man with a poetic passion beyond money, and a man who, despite their seeming estrangement, is deeply aware of each other's struggles and deaths. So when he sees his father's body crawling with ants under a dead tree, he seems to think he is dead, and his father dreams of Ceylon hanging from a dead well. They knew that they were both on the verge of collapse and being abandoned by the world. But they would live, and life was a gamble. Ceylon gambled on literature, his father gambled on digging a well out of a hillside, and if he lost, he lost, and enough was a triumph. By the end of the film, as the forest is covered with snow, Ceylon struggles to dig the well he once despised, and the previously repressed life force awakens from his soul and becomes stronger.

The rhythm of the story is slow and calm, just like Ceylon's emphasis on the novel in the film, these are only the inner confession, the Wild Pear Tree is only Ceylon's personal emotional memory, no need for documentary, from the most scattered like a whisper to speak the private vision, so free. For example, when Ceylon argued with the imam about theology and free will, the scenery along the way, low mud huts, cooking smoke, barking dogs, tea tables under trees and so on, was undoubtedly not the director's most sentimental look at the homeland. Among the most common things, who is really feeling and feeling nostalgia can be best reflected. If it were not so, how could the forest where the wind blows be as beautiful as a dream, and the dark earth and the pool of water be covered with the beauty of minerals? After all, he loved Anatolia as much as the homesickness of countless people who wanted to escape but never came back.

Ceylon is common, and it has magical and precious moments, like a wild pear tree bearing fruit that is misshapely but sweet and needs digging. It was the moment when he kissed her, as if he had kissed the mountains, the past and the rain, and it was worth remembering for a lifetime.

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