Homesex movieBilly Lynn's Long Halftime Walk (2016) Movie Sex & Nudity

Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk (2016) Movie Sex & Nudity

No graphical nudity show in movie.
A young man and a young girl (cheerleader) kiss.
Billy imagines one of the cheerleaders having sex with him in bed. Lasts seconds.
A man says something about a penis having the same IQ and he says “be smarter than your penis”.
A young soldier tells a stage manager to suck his dick and it leads to a fight.
A scene where a woman is seen on top of a man in bed having sex with some sexual sounds.



Film review:Translated by XX www.rabudo-ru.com


[this is not a film review with any technical opinions. This is a disorderly film viewing essay. Friends who haven’t seen it from the beginning to the end of the spoiler had better not read it down?]

“You risked your life for something bigger than yourself. How many people can say that? Maybe you didn’t understand why we were at war. Maybe you never will. But it doesn’t matter. You held your hand up and said, ‘I’m willing to die for these worthless civilians.’”

—Phil Klay, Redeployment

I got out of the cinema and crowded into the subway. I felt that the smiles and smiles of passers-by were very untrue.

In the darkness of the cinema, I was impacted and squeezed by the extremely strong color pictures, and the illusions seemed to become true – this is the most intuitive feeling of a perceptual audience with no professional knowledge about 120 frame technology. My first comment to my good friend after reading is that this is a large PTSD VR experience. I followed the hero back to the trenches in Iraq at the moment of the gun salute, followed him to hold the throat of the enemy, and followed him to hold the sacrificial superior and shed tears. Finally, when I returned to the real New York, I felt that everything was illusory: grocery shopping? Who goes grocery when your fellow Americans are giving their lives away for the greed of those handful of privileged individuals? Look at this frightening world like a veteran who has just left the battlefield. A long time ago, in the hurt locker, the hero stood in the supermarket and was at a loss about the sudden material abundance. I guess I walked down the street with a pale and terrible expression like him.

This is the story of a nineteen year old boy. Because of family changes, he needed to wear a military uniform. He went to a strange country, listened to the instructions of the officer, pointed the gun at those strange Arab faces, the men roared, the women cried, and the children ran away in fear. He didn’t know what it was for. He became a national hero because of an accidental scene. At the same time, the person he once trusted most was slowly dying in his arms. He saw the blood on his hands, including comrades in arms and enemies. He is so young, but he has been weathered.

The family did not allow anyone to question the significance of his joining the army. They still protected him as a child. Only my sister said, don’t work hard and go home.

But what if I go home? Work at Burger King? Go to community college? Paying taxes, paying insurance premiums and medical bills, falling in love, getting married, taking care of children, watching him grow into an adult like himself… Facing all the unfairness in the world, all the impossibility in life, the mediocrity and embarrassment he can’t get rid of, disappointment, sadness and powerlessness

At least when he pulled the trigger, he was actually doing something. Once the superiors said that what they offer is not necessarily the country or God, but anything greater than themselves.

At the Dallas stadium, on the half court show that should have made him shine, he saw what this thing was. It is a fat man holding a hot dog hamburger, a provocative security guard, a cheerleader trained to be happy or sad, and an honor that has filled everyone’s heart under the publicity of nationalism. The national anthem sounded, his face appeared on the big screen, and the audience burst into tears, but all the noise of whitewashing peace made him think of the battlefield and the death he was going to face.

This is your country, the authority that manipulates you like a puppet. This is a place full of false feelings, bustling and boasting to the sudden explosion of fireworks into a half court show. You print its logo on your chest and live and die for it. You can’t even whisper your dissatisfaction with it, although you know that your childhood education has taught you to be good for it.

This is your people. They are running around for selfish desires. People who pretend to understand you, ridicule you as a political tool, and say that they love you not because of who you are, but just because of the person who wears your uniform and chest medal.

So you say, do you have to give everything for it?

He said yes. For him, all he has now is the army. He chose to love his comrades in arms and aim his gun at an exotic man who may be a civilian. At the same time, he chose to leave the political dispute that spread to the family dinner table, the shaky home because of an accident, and the possibility of all trivial failures in ordinary life. No one is completely altruistic, and no one is completely selfish. His choice may be both, but who can blame him.

After all, he is only a 19-year-old child, a child who joined the army to protect his sister, and a child who is not even old enough to drink legally in his own country. He is just a small screw in the state machine. He will pay all his youth for the meaninglessness he has already realized. In his later life, he could not escape the explosion, smoke and blood every moment. He will kill and recall the lives that disappeared in his hands in countless self-examination.

But he accepted his life. This is his life. He has chosen the life he must continue to face.

No one can escape life. We can only go back to life.

Some small data:

17% of the vagrant population in the United States are veterans.

Of the 1.6 million veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan, 45% are applying for disability benefits. 33% have confirmed disability related to service.

Among these soldiers, about 20% were diagnosed with PTSD or depression, and many of the remaining 80% were unwilling to go to the hospital, see a psychologist and admit that they had a “problem”.

I can’t go on. I don’t know how many people look at the same Google text box and type the same words as me at this moment, in order to confirm whether they are ill and whether they are still a normal person.

A poet who lives at the intersection of Russia and the Soviet Union said, “we must love this poor earth, for we have seen no other.” In this world full of holes, will you become better when I open my eyes tomorrow morning?

The wind blows from east to west, from north to south, ignoring night and dawn… Tell me, what do you mean by dawn?

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