What about the handyman?

The beat generation has only read one book recently. Kerouac's On the Road happened to watch it during the Spring Festival last year. The translation is very poor. It was translated by a local scholar who didn't even know the brand of the car. When it comes to the important jazz part, it's even more unintelligible. A little earlier, I read Ginsburg's poems in middle school. At that time, I was very young and knew little about its meaning. I read just for fun, and now I have no impression at all. This film is adapted from the works of Charles Bukowski, another important writer of the Beat Generation. Like most writers of the "Beat Generation", this work is full of autobiographies or self-life. Director Bent Hamer is a Norwegian and is said to be a master of literary adaptation. This time, it was decided after a war of words between Bukowski's research experts. I gave him eight points, which was not easy. The slow narrative style he established is very suitable for the protagonist's vacant and passive state. The protagonist Henry is actually Bukowski himself. He is an older literary youth wandering in Los Angeles. Although he has never found a job, he has always dreamed of becoming a writer. I think foreigners are a little special. As long as they write at ordinary times, when others ask him about his occupation, they will answer without blushing: writer! Even if your own things have never been published. In this sense, foreigners regard writing as a way of life, not just a means of making a living, so maybe they are more pious. Henry didn't have a job. He kept writing by eating soft food and gambling on horses, and lived a trance-like life. Matt dillon accepted the role amid a lot of criticism. He did a good job, but he didn't turn an independent film into a Hollywood blockbuster in Anger. Just when Henry bought a drunken bar, the first enthusiastic editor's letter was quietly delivered to his former landlord. I like this ending. In another corner of the city, something is happening that affects our destiny, and we didn't know anything about it at that time. After reading it, I read some poems by Bukowski with great interest, which was very interesting. The following poem can almost be used as a summary of the whole movie: the tragedy of leaves made me realize that the plants in the basin dried up, the ferns died, and the plants in the basin were as yellow as corn. My woman is gone, and empty bottles surround me like a bleeding corpse, with their laziness and uselessness. However, the sun is still shining, and my landlady is always full of cheap suspicions. What is needed now is a good comedian, an ancient clown who makes people laugh with absurd pain? Pain is ridiculous because it exists, but I seldom shave seriously with an old razor. This former young man is said to be very talented; But this is the tragedy of leaves, dead ferns and dead plants. I walked into the dark corridor, where the landlady stood cursing and finally sent me to hell. She shook her fat and sweaty arms and screamed hysterically for rent, because the world beat us both.