The story appears simple on the surface, but is revealed, especially after multiple viewings, as more multi-layered and textured than Cassavetes at his best. Ostensibly it concerns a 14-year old Catholic girl, Wynne (Agutter) growing up in this post-modern wasteland, who develops a crush on her much older adoptive brother (Marshall)- a crush which perversely deepens and grows into infatuation once she starts to believe he is the local sex killer. This is in itself an idea that makes you sit up and jolt, but as the narrative develops, it continues not necessarily along a linear path but in several confusing and fascinating directions: the family's history, (detailed effectively in chilling flashback during an improvised seance) is a chequered one, and has suffered at least one major relocation and upheaval in the last ten years. At the crux, however, it's the depiction of socialal changes that make I Start Counting so fascinating and elevate its language far beyond the confines of the standard horror film. The major subtext- that teenage girls were maturing more quickly than before, and developing full sexual and romantic appetites (even if in thought rather than deed) but were not possessed of enough discretion to make the right choices- was a step forward for a genre in which its young females had previously been portrayed as bimbo victims (Cover Girl Killer and The Night Caller spring to mind), but not one that all viewers would necessarily agree with. But most striking of all, and possibly the most enduring image which the viewer will take away with them, is of the masterful symbolism with which director Greene invests every shot. Every inch of the Kinch family's world- their house, their walls, their TV, Agutters underwear, bedroom furniture and toys, Sutcliffe's clothes, Marshalls van, the local Catholic church, their town centre, their record shop) - is painted a bright, scintillating white- a white which, by inference, is slowly becoming smudged and corrupted with the dirt of the outside world. White also symbolises, of course, purity and innocence (two qualities Catholic schoolgirls are supposed to hold dear), and it is into this world of innocence that the ever-present red bus (a symbol of violation and penetration), conducted by the lecherous yet similarly juvenile Simon Ward, makes regular journeys. The allegory is further expanded in one scene where Agutter believes she sees the Christ figure in church weeping blood: by the time we acknowledge it, its gone, but the seed has already been planted. Rarely in a genre production has the use of colour and background been so important or effective in creating a uniformity of mood. I Start Counting is as near-perfect an end to a decade as one could hope for, and exactly the kind of film people should be making now- which is, of course, exactly why they never will. A genre essential. by D.R.
终于，自己在家看完了李焕英，控制不住的眼泪，始终停不下来。想起了太多妈妈年轻时的画面，可惜光阴一去不复返。剧本其实也没啥创新，但能引起观众心灵的共鸣，我愿称之为一部好电影。
我收回之前的怀疑：因为，真心给自己母亲拍一部电影，顺便拿几十亿票房这件事太牛逼了，真的。
是不是每个子女都曾经觉得“我是个废人，我不配”呢？//这个电影其实拍的非常“一般”，但它有一种朴实的感情。没有那么多包装或者辞藻，它连台词都有些平淡——但这些台词几乎是每个人都经历过的。所以我觉得它其实更像一部文艺电影。我走出电影院躲在人群中我还在想，我真的“健康、快乐”吗，我连这么基础的期望都没有达到吧。或许这才是我落泪的原因。（PS：以前的字体真好看啊！）
这部电影能不能看哭，主要看和自己妈妈感情好不好
套路都懂，情节也猜到了，但是对于亲情就是毫无抵抗力
笑点挺多，而且不是段子合集。
最美的不是重回青春的艳阳天，而是渐渐为你变作中年妇女的屋檐。只是分明是两个人共同的心愿，为何要留一个人独自健康快乐的承诺。
在儿子的语境里，“母亲=牺牲”的意识形态从来都没有被撼动过，但我没想到在女儿那里也同样如此。我们的感受力似乎正在回到孔子那里。于是，只有母女没有女人，只有母性不见人性，只有孝顺不管理解，只要真诚休谈美。但我认为，至少在艺术里，透彻的理解才是最大的真诚，圆熟的美才是最大的真诚。成功后的子欲养而亲不待不能感动我，一个人在荧幕上带领观众嚎啕大哭也不能感动我。眼泪(哭的泪与笑的泪）正在成为一种得意洋洋的经济，眼泪让我们的眼睛不再能观察，眼泪让眼睛丧失了清醒的视力。要保护情感，但更要保护视力。视力是更加脆弱、更容易丢失的东西。
要是说37亿的话，真的不至于，想扣一颗星，但是贾玲的遭遇确实可怜，就三星吧！
在结局之前我以为会是新难兄难弟，或是乘风破浪，或是回到未来，但最后却是《你一生的故事》。最特别的是，正因为这个反转的结局，如果在看第二遍的时候反而会带来完全不一样的感受，第一遍的所有笑点会很奇特的变成了泪点。这片值得和应该看第二遍。
有笑点有泪点，全片围绕妈妈以及女性群体，没有刻意比较恶意中伤，娓娓道来妈妈的一切，将平淡的生活用喜剧的手法体现了出来，很惊喜，原来贾玲那么有才！
有演技保证，即便是最传统老套的叙事也好笑又好哭。唯一的尬点是陈赫，每次他一出场我就脚趾抓地……
给贾玲的真诚五星，非常私人的影片。重返十七岁颠倒版，亲情穿越梗和时代滤镜讨喜。意外的是官僚讽刺和最后的小转折，认出母亲之后开门的那一刻期待影片在这里结束。
儿女——比想象中更爱你们！
拍电影纪念妈妈很了不起。喜剧效果很足。妈妈曾是少女、母亲对子女的期待只有健康快乐的立意也高。但既然作为电影作品，最后几分钟的恶意煽情十分不高明。情怀该是一枚种子，而不是一颗烂苹果。
你死了你妈才会更开心，你成为今天的样子难道都怪你自己么，子女不教父母之过，以爱之名互相自欺欺人，你如此垃圾又干嘛要无条件包容你，一开始还算好笑，后头如此乏味如坐针毡，结尾强行闪回煽情主角哭个不停，我却哭不出来，死了才来反思有个屁用，左边有个小孩被另一个小孩嘲笑眼中有泪，他说是冷的，没错，冷的，这年头眼泪真值钱，喜剧就好好让人笑，从头笑到尾行不行，怀念比利·怀尔德，女儿同年轻时母亲相遇想起全度妍《人鱼公主》，我不要我妈多么爱我，我要她更爱她自己，片尾曲张小斐《萱草花》，萱草花是中国的母亲花，又名忘忧草，
哭得很累，然后清醒地知道我和我妈的问题更难解决。
明明知道贾玲的情感是真的，然而我始终没法共鸣。反倒是一些戏，知道是假定的情形，反而容易代入。戏假情真习惯了，碰到这种戏真情真的戏，反而有些不好承受，不是感动，而是压抑，觉得贾玲宣泄了情绪，纪念了母亲，挺好一件事情。但又隐隐觉得这40亿票房，未必是她想要的。
中国式情感绑架的畸形关系，在不断的互相亏欠里自我感动，的确真诚但不该仅仅是这样。
现在电影只分好和不好了吗，说中规中矩被骂了，慕名去看了，没有吹得那么神，泪点高，没哭，被喷了，大过年的一定要哭吗，还有什么时候看哭成为了衡量电影好差的标准了。
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