1 As the old saying goes, "When you die, you are born", but this sentence has never been useful for China animation-Huashan has been a road since ancient times. However, China animation will never be brave when we meet in a narrow road, so we always swallow the bitter fruit of disappointment. "Sadness is greater than death in the heart, and pain is greater than national subjugation". Most fans are heartbroken. In the field of animation, we have almost "conquered the country", which is sad! Knowing shame is almost brave: this will never be linked to China animation!
Once upon a time, our elders were intoxicated by the warmth of tadpoles looking for their mothers and the prestige of the Monkey King's havoc in heaven. These cartoons of 1950s and 1960s have become the sweet memories of our elders, but after 80s, in our generation, they became fascinated with cartoons of Japan, Europe and America. Who can say that our generation never saw Astro Boy, robotech, Saint and Transformers when we were children? We are all intoxicated with the unprecedented excitement and stimulation brought by Japanese and European animation, but our elders say that this is a cultural war of aggression against China! Say that we are the beat generation of China! But the fact is that our growth can not be separated from those "friends" who accompanied us since childhood. They took us into the strange and wonderful world of Transformers, EvA and Twelve Kingdoms. Zhiguixiang Yuli, Toriyama Akira, Kosuke Kitajima, Masami Kurumada, George W. Tian Jian, Eiichiro Oda, Tong, Xu Feigang, Togashi Yoshihiro, Misawa Ai, K?suke Fujishima, Yamazaki Liu Yu, Inoue Takehiko, Mayou Nobuo, and the real alien (all comic masters) have outlined the world we are eager to know, and many things will never be known in school. The Meiji Restoration in Japan, for example, is only briefly mentioned in history textbooks. However, the swordsman's sword heart tells us how difficult the struggle between the rebels and the shogunate is. I don't want to enumerate all these examples. ......
Many post-80s generation like me say that China's animation is the most rubbish, too "teaching and playing", but actually it has no ideological content. It's rubbish and the worst. The theme of fiddling with all day is only cats and dogs, and the characters have never been portrayed, which has lowered the level. Plus the characters don't even have basic complicated relationships! Not to mention the superficial connotation (actually called connotation), the suspicion of film breach of contract, such as "Stinky Cat Naughty Three Thousand Plague" trying to take "the longest" as the ratings, is simply wishful thinking! They all say that they would rather die than watch Chinese cartoons! That's a house for children under 2 years old!
There is also a low level of animation production in China! The characters are multifaceted, and the good guys and bad guys can be seen at a glance. The idea still stays at the level of clearly distinguishing the role and good role in animation. That is called sunshine education by educators, but I call it "avoidance education"
Then there is the monotonous story. Now domestic animation is nothing more than a big fight in the Monkey King, and another "smelly cat naughty three thousand plague" has come. I didn't want to speak ill of domestic animation, but I changed the channel after watching the animation (including the theme song) for three minutes. I'd rather watch that damn news broadcast than watch it.
She gradually disappeared into the diffuse smoke, and the strong summer sunshine failed to protect her, so she could only sprinkle all the sunshine and love on her lost face, as if watching her relatives who died in the war, and everything stopped to sing an elegy for her. I'm going to start wandering again, losing my protector! How long will it take for the stone in God's chest to become a heart? -inscription
This is a neat house. The house is very old and sometimes leaks rain, but it is quiet and peaceful. Between the two rows of houses, there is a road that is neither wide nor narrow. The road is lined with tall old trees. They are not as lush and romantic as phoenix trees, but the years they have experienced have made them more attractive than phoenix trees. There is a very old tree, always bent down to protect its long-cherished road. When I was young, I was worried about falling, but the overlapping time told me that I wouldn't go that way first.
The summer here is always filled with quiet and fresh breath, wrapping everything about me and refusing to hurt. When it rains, a beautiful river will flow from one end of the road to the other. When the sun shines, even the sparkling air will be moved by this beauty, and it will stop and hang into a beautiful bubble. The winter here contains the most beautiful and far-reaching artistic conception, showing one joy and helplessness after another. Or should I say, the four seasons here are peaceful!
There seems to be a natural barrier at the end of here, separating the end of the road from the noisy square. There is a big tree in the alley where I live. Every time I look up at it, I can feel happiness, an eternal happiness in the passing time. I buried my favorite dog at its feet because I believe it can give him happiness. Parthenocissus on the courtyard wall, green rippling in the breeze, coloring happiness. Whenever I am tired, I will stay here quietly, and I will feel that my mind has been repaired.
I write down everything here crazily, with a pen, with a camera, with my heart, with all the ways I can think of, because she is about to be destroyed, with my childhood memories, with my happy mood, with everything I love, with my sadness, with all the traces of my growth. I seem to see those butchers waving axes and walking towards everything I love with red eyes, bringing them death; See the cold machinery waving and rushing here; I seem to see their blood splashing in the air and hear their desperate cries. Then strange, expressionless concrete forests will stand here, and they will eventually bury me.
Everything. That tree will die with its path, with eternal happiness, and become love without a tombstone.
What about me? I can only write it all down. I can't save them. I can only recall it in despair. Those long and desperate sorrows will become sharp knives that can't be pulled out from the heart. Sharp knives will melt away, and bright red blood will burst its banks and become suffocating floating objects. How many tears and thoughts have I taken away by the stagnant time and the ever-changing changes? Everything will not be reborn, but will die endlessly, including my missing and desperate love!
I wrote all this down and mourned my lost happiness!