A gorgeous movie about memory and hope. A trip and a form of catharsis. It is not a story of an old man who discovers images of his past, about a marital crisis or some teenagers. It is not a confession. It is a mirror. The same crisis is the "gift" of everybody. The same silence, fear and desire are the refuge of a man, a woman, a n American or Irakian. At a moment, at a single moment, you discover your past like only reality. Like your real skin, your only voice, your essential eye. It is not strange. We are the fruits of some experiences. Some books, some people, a family, a child or a wife are the Ganymedes of our hours, our evolution, our death. Our freedom, our gestures, our smile are the trees of their presence. Isak Borg is the image of a age. Our age who grow-up in the noise of every day. The isolation is only way to be yourself. The way to Lund, the relation with Agda, the empty attitude, the projection in Evald, the words are the symbols of a clock who is seed of our conscience. Childhood is only reality of our life.
Review of Wild Strawberries
