Penguin Video launched such an advertisement because it saw that the topics discussed by netizens on the Internet tended to focus on this aspect.
However, the effect is still very good.
After all, everyone was looking forward to it.
"Prose poems written by my father? Damn it. My dad hasn't even graduated from elementary school. Writing poems? It's really embarrassing!"
"Haha, I said before that I wanted to be a poet, and then my dad gave me a meal of fried pork with bamboo shoots as a reward!"
"Why do poets eat fried meat with bamboo shoots? What's the explanation?"
"Because at that time, I wrote poems every day, and after my dad read them, he silently went to the bamboo strips."
"The talent upstairs, then the question is, are you a poet now?"
"Poet? No, I am a worker now! Thank you!"
"Suddenly it became artistic, a bit unlike the style of a dog director!"
"Indeed, the prose poems written by my father are completely inconsistent with my family's situation. Although my dad did not graduate from elementary school, in those days, it was good to have enough to eat, and he also wrote poems? Write a ball Ah! Can that thing be used as food?"
"Why does this name feel a bit like the name of a song?" some netizens speculated.
"It's a benefit at no cost. I think it will work, but I don't have the ability to write poetry, and my dad can't do it either. The whole family has been a man of science and engineering for several generations. Sorry, I really can't write poetry!"
"It's just writing poetry, why don't you just have hands? Hands are ridiculous!"
"It does sound like the title of the song, but it's pretty good, but isn't it a bit too literary?"
For many people, when they first look at a title like "Prose Poems Written by My Father", their first reaction is, isn't it too literary?
In fact, in this era, the so-called poet has even been turned into a derogatory term by some people.
For example, a poetry recital master or something like that.
Of course, there are some poets who can truly write good poems, but there are too few.
Back to business.
As Li Yi's earliest movie fan, the original "Gift from Room No. 7" can be said to be Lu Xinguang and Chu Xixi's matchmaker.
Therefore, they will naturally not miss Li Yi's new work.
""Prose Poems Written by Father"? This title..." Chu Xixi clicked her tongue for a long time.
"Hey, hubby, can our dad write poetry?"
"Write poetry? He can... do you think my dad is someone who can write poetry?" Lu Xinguang almost cursed.
Because he suspected that his wife was scolding someone.
"What are you talking about, Director Gou, this Father's Day program? Is it really a song?" Chu Xixi asked curiously.
"It feels like it. "Prose Poems Written by My Father" sounds very poetic and artistic. If this was just an ordinary short film, I can't imagine what it would be like." Lu Xinguang shook his head and said .
In fact, he and Chu Xixi are already familiar with Li Yi's works, but at least, this style of literary youth is not quite like the style of Li Yi's past short films.
It can be said that whether it is to induce tears or to slap people in love, the dog director has no other tricks.
Oh, yes, there is also a reversal!
In terms of movies, Li Yi has really played with literary youth stuff, such as "Cinema Paradiso", a movie known as a love letter to movies. The collection of kisses in it can be called a classic.
But when it comes to short films, I’ve really never done that.
While many people were talking about it, Li Yi was comforting his pregnant daughter-in-law at home.
As Li Yi's daughter-in-law, Mu Qing naturally didn't need to wait for the short film to be released like others. Instead, out of curiosity, she watched it at home in advance, and then she burst into tears.
"Uuuuuuuuah, when I went back last time, I saw that my dad had white hair on his temples." Mu Qing said with red eyes.
"Well, I'll go back with you to see more when I have time." Li Yi nodded.
In fact, even he himself is particularly intolerant of this song. Even though his family, childhood experience and the story described in this song are completely different things, they have many things in common.
My father will always grow old. No matter whether he is rich or poor, time is always fair in this regard.
Although his father is doing well now, and although he has not remarried his mother, it is actually almost the same.
The two are inseparable, traveling home and abroad every day. Not long ago, they even took their grandson to ski in Switzerland.
But they are indeed old, this is an indisputable fact.
If a family like Li Yi is like this, there is no need to talk about other people.
Time flies, and Father’s Day is here in a blink of an eye.
Compared with the atmosphere of Mother's Day, Father's Day is obviously much different. Of course, on the Internet, the popularity is definitely not bad.
At nine o'clock in the morning on Father's Day, "Father's Prose Poems" should be regarded as the MV short film officially launched.
Many people clicked on the short video link immediately.
Chu Xixi and Lu Xinguang looked at the "Director Li Yi's Works" on the screen together, looking at each other as if they were sympathized with each other, and both smiled sweetly.
In the hospital ward, there was an old man on the bed, with an intravenous drip still hanging on his hand. He was asleep. Beside the hospital bed, his daughter was lying there, holding the old man's hand. Suddenly, a hand gently patted her daughter's. Shoulder, waking up the sleeping daughter.
She raised her head and was about to speak when her husband made a shushing gesture.
The daughter glanced at her father who was sleeping soundly on the hospital bed and nodded.
He stood up and looked at the old father on the hospital bed again. The age spots on the old father's face suddenly hit his daughter's eyes, making her eyes turn red again.
The husband squeezed his wife's shoulders with both hands to comfort her.
The wife shook her head.
After walking out of the ward, the two of them spoke.
"You've been here for several days. Dad's illness doesn't happen in a day or two. You go back and take a shower, change clothes and have a good rest. I'm here." The husband said harmoniously.
The wife nodded and glanced at the old father in the ward.
"Let's take a look at dad's house by the way. We were sent to the hospital urgently..."
As soon as the camera turned, the door was pushed open, and the old furniture revealed the mottled traces of time under the dim light. The most conspicuous thing was the photo frame on the table. Inside the photo frame was an old photo. The father in the photo was still young. The photo The daughter here is still immature.
The daughter reached for the photo and wiped it gently.
Pushing open a door, this is a study room filled with books.
The daughter seemed to be able to see her father sitting behind the desk, writing furiously.
She reached out and took down a few books from the bookshelf, planning to take them to the hospital to read to her father.
Suddenly an old thread-bound diary caught her eye. She put the other books on the desk and took down the diary.
Sitting on the chair where her father often sat, she opened the diary full of traces of time.
On the yellowed paper, the handwriting written by the pen is still clear.
The melody of music sounded, and on the yellowed diary page, "Summer, 1984" was written.
The daughter looked at her father's familiar handwriting and couldn't help but shed tears.
She quickly reached out to wipe it, but it was like time had gone forever. No matter how she wiped it, she could not wipe away the traces.
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