Recently, I've been particularly fond of a phrase: "Each has their tears." In the documentary "Life in a Day" people from various corners of the Earth uploaded clips of their ordinary days. Combined, it was plain and simple, with joy and sadness appearing so understated. However, at the end of the film, amid thunder and lightning, a girl sitting in a car somewhat plaintively reproaches herself for having too ordinary a day. But then she said, as if realizing that nothing had happened today, something had happened at that moment. This slightly sentimental ending made this segment feel very real, making the overall fantastical film seem untouchable, did we only see "a slice of others' life," and how could we know why each shed tears?
In the movie "Mistress America," the tears of the characters have a more tangible connection to my life. What initially moved me most was a dialogue about, "Have you ever thought about being with me?" The boy said, "I want someone to love, not someone to chase all day." The girl responded, "I do feel sometimes that I'm better and smarter than others."
Unexpectedly, after a pause, the boy turned around and agreed, "Sometimes I feel like a genius too, hoping to fast forward to the day of fame."
I don't know when it started, but stories of success and fame have become abundant. In today's world, compared to the old social order of a single-class system, it's hard to say whether it's better or worse now. "Mistress America," herself says at the end of the film, as she is about to leave New York, "I wish we all lived in feudal times when people's status wouldn't change. If you were poor, you would be poor for a lifetime; if you were rich, you would be rich for a lifetime, and everyone would mind their own business, living peacefully. Now, because there is more than one path to success and numerous examples of grassroots success, although we don't daydream about becoming famous overnight, we are gradually lost on seemingly narrow bridges that seem to lead to Rome, trembling and at a loss.

Identity anxiety comes from the bizarre situation that those who have an identity seem to deserve it and are difficult to suddenly lose, thus making their identity unbreakable. Those without an identity believe that they can achieve it with effort. In the end, there are two results: those who get their desired identity may not believe it (such as winning an Oscar); those who still haven't gotten it may escape, withdraw from the world or lose enthusiasm for life. This alienation has even spread to the teenage group. In "Mistress America," the girl and the boy are both freshmen, rejected by a small literary club, but it sparks so many waves, showing its power.
However, the core of this film is still "Mistress America." As a woman in her thirties, she looks unique, intelligent, and stylish, but she is actually "unsuccessful." She seems to have a constant stream of creativity, speaks decisively, and appears thoughtful. In front of others, although she doesn't deliberately play the role of a mentor, she always has an image of being full of experience, confident, and free. In this way, the admiration of the inexperienced girl for "An American Affair" is natural. But later, the interaction between the girl and "Mistress America" becomes a process of dissolving this to some extent "false" identity: she doesn't have much money, her emotional life is a mess, she can become clumsy at crucial moments, and the restaurant can't open for half a day. However, compared to others clearly "having an identity but not having a life" characters in the film, "An American Affair" are special. She seems to have an identity and a life (just lacking money). However, at the end of the film, she still expresses her true feelings, I am passionate about everything, but I don't know how to survive in this world.

Fortunately, we still have enthusiasm for life; otherwise, I don't know how we would survive. The difficulty of life lies in the fact that it is not a problem, not a dead problem with a relatively correct answer. Life is more like a computer virus, an advanced one that changes with your feedback. Just when you think you might be on the right track, it suddenly uses another completely different clone to catch you off guard. The terror is that you can still feel that this clone is the life you originally faced, just that you overlooked this aspect. Gradually, we will realize our ignorance, thereby increasing anxiety.
The ending did not provide a particularly clear answer—if this is still real life, there won't be any answers. Impermanence is the best explanation for life. The girl gave up the hard-won club qualification and chose to start her own business. Whether this is going it alone or heading towards destruction, we do not know. "Mistress America" is preparing to leave New York and test opportunities in LA. Before leaving, the two meet, and the girl invites her to spend Thanksgiving together. Then the voiceover rings out the final chapter of the girl's "Mistress America" series of short stories:
"She made rich fat women not so fat, made rich stupid boys not so stupid, made rich losers not so loser-ish. But she wanted to become those people, fat, stupid, loser-ish, and rich. But she is indeed much better than those people; she is a bonfire, and they are just matches. She is the last cowboy in the world, full of romance and failure."
Perhaps the girl is indeed a match, and "An American Affair" is destined to be a bonfire. But it's not necessarily that one is better than the other. People are not saints, and life is far more difficult than we imagine. Each has their tears, and others may not understand. But what we can understand is that each has their tears.




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