Chapter 1158

Light and shadow are so wonderful that they blur the boundary between time and space. Thoughts add wings to the melody and song, and soar freely. They leave the kerosene lamp bar, Greenwich Village, New York and this land. Standing on the top of the mountain, they overlook all living beings, stand on the cliff, overlook the ocean, roam the sky and embrace the world.

The man, quietly bathed in the milky yellow halo, sings softly, melodious and graceful, vicissitudes and sadness, wonderful and moving, the bitterness and loneliness between the eyebrows are gently surging, embarrassed and broken, covered with dust and nothing, it seems that he is nothing but that voice; However, that a proud, but like winter wintersweet general, facing the wind and frost wantonly bloom.

He sang, "hang me, oh, hang me, I'll die."

Involuntarily, the corners of his mouth rose, but the halo that projected into his eyes was gradually blurred, vaguely catching a touch of natural and uninhibited in the man's eyes. Bitterness and vicissitudes seemed to be hidden in the messy hair and thick Hu dregs, just leaving a touch of wanton and indifference that waving his sleeves did not take away a cloud.

Then, he raised his head, gently rubbed his nose, casually held his guitar, hung his eyes, and quietly fell into meditation for a moment. It seemed that he was savoring his performance just now, showing a look of satisfaction. Then he regained his attention and said to the microphone in front of him.

"You may have heard this before." Eyebrow tail gently up, random and loose hair cast a large shadow, understatement of Hun do not care, with a stubborn and arrogant, in the casual words revealed, "if a song, never new, but never out of date, it is folk."

With that, he chuckled. That smile, ironic and joking, relaxed and natural, even in self ridicule, also revealed a touch of light between the eyebrows, affecting the mind behind every look, but he did not care, no pause, stood up, ready to leave the stage.

It seems that this action has finally broken the magic shackles of music, and the sense of reality of time surges in again. Suddenly, applause bursts out in one breath, just like the eruption of a volcano. The whole kerosene lamp bar is filled in an instant, and the huge applause is mixed with whistles, cheers and shouts. The earth is shaking.

George Slade sat in the same place, as if unable to react. For a long time, the roaring applause continued to hit the eardrum, which gradually recovered. The smile on the corner of his mouth stopped for a moment, and finally bloomed brightly.

George is a little uncertain now.

Two years later, lanli's performance is still moving. The narrative emotion hidden in the melody and lyrics is eloquent, and inadvertently bumps into the soft part of the heart. The scars precipitated by the years seem to be hidden in the details of singing, adding a touch of wanton and casual.

That's a good thing. However, what George is not sure is that this is the soul after the carving of time. Langley still keeps the pure heart he had when he created Don Quixote two years ago, and is even more penetrating and sophisticated. It's very valuable in Hollywood's vanity fair; Or the power of performance——

In the time when the ballad was flowing slowly, the light and shadow were flowing back slowly, as if they really went back to the sixties, the era of craziness for ballad, the era of persistence for art. Business was invading, but art was still proud; Sitting in a pub listening to a night's performance and having a good conversation with three or five friends is far more fulfilling than the happiness brought by TV or the Internet.

In a trance, George really blurs the boundary between reality and illusion. He can't tell whether it is Langley or Levine who is performing on the stage. More or Levine, who was trapped in the dream, lost but refused to compromise.

Smile, smile, bitter so turned up, and then the eyes fell into a warm.

George dropped his eyes in embarrassment, and then noticed Stanley Charlson sitting next to him.

Stanley was leaning on the back of his chair, enjoying happiness on his face, holding a bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette curling on the ashtray. He was in a trance and seemed to be immersed in memories.

Aware of the look in his eyes, Stanley glanced at George with a smile rising from the corner of his mouth. He gently raised his beer, then took a big drink and gently shook his head again.

Enjoy, just simply enjoy, enjoy the wonderful moment. That's enough.

Turning his head, George looked at the man on the stage again. His down and out of fashion had a charming charm. In the sixties, that's what it was. Talented men always had admirers, even the tramps who lived in the garbage. It was a crazy time.

Levine, Levine Davis.

This is a brilliant guy, but not suitable for commercial promotion, because he is like a stone in the pit, smelly and hard, adhering to the outdated folk ideal and artistic persistence. Talent is indeed talent, but it is doomed not to become money. No one will want to listen to his songs on the radio.

"Hang me, oh, hang me." God, if he heard such a song on the radio, he would hang himself willingly. It's hard to imagine how intractable and troublesome the complaint calls of the audience will be. He doesn't want to be full of such troubles, but... It's really a pleasure to listen to and entertain in the bar.

"Ha ha." George chuckled, then put his finger in his mouth, whistled and coaxed.

1960s or modern? Gas bar or Pioneer Village? Levine or Langley?

Is that important?

Obviously, it doesn't matter. All the boundaries have been completely broken. Everything is real and illusory. I just want to immerse myself in the melody just now, embrace freedom, roam the world, pursue dreams and bloom life. When freedom and dreams disappear, the hanging will no longer be terrible.

The whole room is boiling.

Clapping, whistling, cheering, and even someone shouting, "encore, encore."

The excessively lively scene suddenly broke the barrier of reality, and then saw a person on the side stage, with short hair and beard like a kiwi fruit, and a helpless smile on his face. He hugged Levine who didn't have time to leave on the stage, then picked up the microphone in front of him and said, "quiet, guys, quiet."

But there was no sign that the applause at the scene subsided. Instead, it got hotter and hotter.

That kiwi is shaking his head, a smile and cry, "we are shooting, everyone, this is a movie, not reality." Ethan Cohen's face was full of helplessness. He felt that he had dug a hole and then buried himself. This kind of taste is really indescribable.

The scene just now, perfect, really perfect.

Lanli's singing and acting skills are perfect, without any flaws. The whole performance is flowing and complete. The song "hang me, oh, hang me" is interpreted so intoxicatingly that it is truly integrated with Levine Davis. There is no trace of performance at all, but the story has been told quietly.

Just for the first scene, Ethan and Joel want to get up and clap.

This is even better than the original video of singing "Cleopatra". That kind of pride, that kind of unruly, that kind of vicissitudes, that kind of bitterness, seemingly contradictory but harmonious, flows slowly in the melody. Once on the stage, the shaping of the role has been completed. This kind of Levine is on paper.

Before, the Cohen brothers were a little worried. It's not about lanli's ability, but about lanli's state. First, the heavy shooting work of "gravity" has just ended; Secondly, the preparation time for "drunken folk songs" is still not enough, but it turns out that they are too worried.

Lanli's performance is undoubtedly perfect, but the play is not.

Because lanli's interpretation and interpretation is so excellent, a simple song has gone through countless vicissitudes, and the audience has blurred the boundary between reality and drama, so that they forget the fact that they are shooting a movie.

At first, they were looking forward to lanli's top performance; But now, they are in trouble because of lanli's excellent performance. This, this kind of feeling is really a little strange, can't be described in words, standing under the stage, Joel has been dumbfounded, clapping his hands and laughing absurdly.

In desperation, Ethan had to go out in person. "Gentlemen, ladies, I know that lanli's performance was very wonderful. In fact, it was beyond imagination. I'm a little sorry now. If Levine is so good, he shouldn't be buried

"No, there were too many talented singers in those days." Lanli's voice came from the side, a reminder, and then shrugged, "but I also agree that I should get a chance to promote on the radio." The first half of the sentence is Langley, and the second half is Levine. There is no sense of disobedience in the conversion of tone and tone.

That kind of highly unified effect, let Ethan can't help but look sideways, see blue Li two eyes more.

Today is just the first day of shooting. Ethan still can't fully adapt to the rhythm of lenley's performance. He can detect the abnormality, but can't say a reason; In a trance, he seemed to see Levine, but it seemed that he only saw the other side of lanli.

In some moments, Ethan even began to wonder, is this a show? Or is he just being himself? If so, isn't it a foul? Does it mean no performance? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? So what's the difference between Langley and Levine?

To be honest, Ethan is not familiar with Langley, and he is not fully familiar with sylvier, so he is in a dilemma.