A clever girl, a brutal father, a stubborn son, confines of the quotidian bleak and unforgiving, the young at heart, the adventurous, callously beat down and kept in line with fierce despotic reckoning, patriarchal severity, but Chris Guthrie (Agyness Deyn), a rapturous sight transmitting kinetic tranquility, relieves the threatening pressure, disseminating fortune with unembellished felicity, tensions be damned, as she inherits impassioned posterity.
Heuristic horizons.
Sunset Song, as bountifully bucolic as fireside chats or blueberries burgeoning, directly laying bare every insight and ramification with clearly defined wayward hesitance, too modest to overtly proclaim yet confident enough to quaintly criticize, enlivening the imagination while seductively steering, confidence in motion, as steady as she goes.
Cruel men jealousy asserting their authority are under fire within, John Guthrie (Peter Mullan) never having once listened to a feminine voice, his insensitive influence slowly transforming into World War I.
A rigid clock overwhelmed with propriety wherein youth struggle to entertain wonder.
To love in health and in spirit.
Express themselves.
Radiate.
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