校内闻名的栀子花乐队主唱许诺（李易峰 饰）和芭蕾舞专业的言蹊（张慧雯 饰）是大学校园里一对幸福热恋的情侣。二人为各自的梦想而奋斗着：怀揣芭蕾梦想的言蹊和三位室友兼好友，一同申请去巴黎深造；许诺和队友们也在不懈努力着，希望能在“梦想之夜”得到唱片公司青睐，出道成为职业乐队。 　　然而就在言蹊以为巴黎之梦触手可及的时候，她却遭遇了现实中的巨大障碍。看着言蹊处于崩溃边缘，许诺一直陪伴她左右。为了让她重新振作燃起希望，许诺决定和乐队成员一起，为她准备一个意想不到的大惊喜。但是，这个决定却让他付出了不小的代价。这些处于青春迷茫期的年轻人，究竟何去何从……

校内闻名的栀子花乐队主唱许诺（李易峰 饰）和芭蕾舞专业的言蹊（张慧雯 饰）是大学校园里一对幸福热恋的情侣。二人为各自的梦想而奋斗着：怀揣芭蕾梦想的言蹊和三位室友兼好友，一同申请去巴黎深造；许诺和队友们也在不懈努力着，希望能在“梦想之夜”得到唱片公司青睐，出道成为职业乐队。 　　然而就在言蹊以为巴黎之梦触手可及的时候，她却遭遇了现实中的巨大障碍。看着言蹊处于崩溃边缘，许诺一直陪伴她左右。为了让她重新振作燃起希望，许诺决定和乐队成员一起，为她准备一个意想不到的大惊喜。但是，这个决定却让他付出了不小的代价。这些处于青春迷茫期的年轻人，究竟何去何从……

毕业前夕，白悠悠遭遇父母婚变，主动向交往四年的男友于子恒求婚，消失半个多月的于子恒突然提分手。对白悠悠一直爱而不得的高尚终于抓住了机会开始追求。于子恒接到一份工作，与郑妮娜互换秘密，假扮情侣彼此帮助，二人成为众矢之的。学校外聘心理辅导员宋唯将心理课程开设在学校附近的“栀子花开”咖啡馆，帮助学生心灵成长。学渣胡侃侃遇到对自己不理睬的宋唯反激起了好胜心，却遭到高尚的堂弟高兴阻拦。学霸谢若琳与胡侃侃同校四年毫无交集，却因为胡爸与谢妈的再婚，打开彼此从未开启的另一面。毕业临近，所有人都面临着人生路口的艰难抉择。他们一起在迷茫与困惑中梳理梦想的方向，在成长路上彼此温暖，重新出发时，已在彼此的青春里留下最美的过往。

毕业前夕，白悠悠遭遇父母婚变，主动向交往四年的男友于子恒求婚，消失半个多月的于子恒突然提分手。对白悠悠一直爱而不得的高尚终于抓住了机会开始追求。于子恒接到一份工作，与郑妮娜互换秘密，假扮情侣彼此帮助，二人成为众矢之的。学校外聘心理辅导员宋唯将心理课程开设在学校附近的“栀子花开”咖啡馆，帮助学生心灵成长。学渣胡侃侃遇到对自己不理睬的宋唯反激起了好胜心，却遭到高尚的堂弟高兴阻拦。学霸谢若琳与胡侃侃同校四年毫无交集，却因为胡爸与谢妈的再婚，打开彼此从未开启的另一面。毕业临近，所有人都面临着人生路口的艰难抉择。他们一起在迷茫与困惑中梳理梦想的方向，在成长路上彼此温暖，重新出发时，已在彼此的青春里留下最美的过往。

梅丽莎（艾米·斯马特 Amy Smart 饰）和华裔玉林（Tim Chiou 饰）是一对来自美国的新婚夫妇，他们将蜜月地点选在玉林的家乡——中国广东某县。异域文化让土生土长的美国女孩梅丽莎好奇、惊喜，不过也许他们挑错了时机。是时正值农历七月，中国的鬼节临近。当地导游平（Dennis Chan 饰）驱车载着二人前往玉林的家。夜深人静，道路蜿蜒，人生地不熟的平失去方向，来到一片陌生的村庄。平下车问路，却始终不见回来。夫妻二人焦急万分，于是下车寻找。他们一无所获，反而被恐怖的叫声下的失魂落魄。 　　两人驱车逃跑，一路上惊险不断。梅丽莎曾和平谈论过饿死鬼的传说，而在鬼门大开的时分，似乎饿死鬼并非只是传说……

梅丽莎（艾米·斯马特 Amy Smart 饰）和华裔玉林（Tim Chiou 饰）是一对来自美国的新婚夫妇，他们将蜜月地点选在玉林的家乡——中国广东某县。异域文化让土生土长的美国女孩梅丽莎好奇、惊喜，不过也许他们挑错了时机。是时正值农历七月，中国的鬼节临近。当地导游平（Dennis Chan 饰）驱车载着二人前往玉林的家。夜深人静，道路蜿蜒，人生地不熟的平失去方向，来到一片陌生的村庄。平下车问路，却始终不见回来。夫妻二人焦急万分，于是下车寻找。他们一无所获，反而被恐怖的叫声下的失魂落魄。 　　两人驱车逃跑，一路上惊险不断。梅丽莎曾和平谈论过饿死鬼的传说，而在鬼门大开的时分，似乎饿死鬼并非只是传说……

Darezhan Omirbaev's penchant for spare, elliptical narrative, muted figures, and disembodied framing (most notably, of hands and feet) have often been (favorably) compared to the rigorous aesthetic of Robert Bresson. However, in imposing such a somber - and inescapably cerebral - analogy, there is also a propensity to overlook the wry, self-effacing humor and irony of situation that pervade his films: a lyricism that equally captures the human comedy in all its contradictions and nobility from the margins of Soviet society. This sense of the quotidian as a continuum of human experience, elegantly rendered in Omirbaev's recent film, The Road through Amir's recurring daydream of a mother milking a cow and her intrusive child (who, in turn, looks remarkably like Amir's own son) in rural Kazakhstan (an image that subsequently proves to be a catalytic historical memory from his childhood when man landed on the moon), can also be seen from the outset of Omirbaev's cinema through his incorporation of a decidedly Buñuelian sequence in the short film, July of a young boy who, while on the lookout for guards near the foothills of a kolkhoz commissary, curiously finds himself wandering into a recital hall where the performance of a young pianist is punctuated by the appearance of a horseman on the stage. Part pastoral observation on the pervasiveness of underdevelopment and the austerity of life in the rural villages of Soviet-era collective farms (and in particular, at the outlying frontiers of the Soviet Central Asia), and part autofiction on a pair of restless boys whose penchant for escapist (mis)adventures reveal a nascent, if displaced, creative sensibility, July establishes the aesthetic framework that would come to define Omirbaev's cinema: the overture of first love depicted through seemingly innocent - yet deliberate - passing touches (the bus encounter in Kaïrat, the movie house flirtation in July); the frustration of isolation inherent in a rural childhood manifested through acts of mischief (the opening sequence of Kaïrat, the courtyard fight of Kardiogramma), the subconscious act of self-reflection illustrated through literal self-reflection through the reflected image of a rear view mirror (Marat's drive home from the hospital in Killer, Amir's extended road trip to visit his ailing mother in The Road). Inevitably, what proves to be the most remarkable - and irresistible - aspect of Omirbaev's deceptively simple coming of age film is its ability to capture the interpenetration between reality and fiction interpenetrate with such seemingly effortless, uninhibited intimacy - a wide eyed innocence that hovers in the ephemeral - ever teetering between solemnity and absurdity, boredom and roguishness, anxiety and imagination.

Darezhan Omirbaev's penchant for spare, elliptical narrative, muted figures, and disembodied framing (most notably, of hands and feet) have often been (favorably) compared to the rigorous aesthetic of Robert Bresson. However, in imposing such a somber - and inescapably cerebral - analogy, there is also a propensity to overlook the wry, self-effacing humor and irony of situation that pervade his films: a lyricism that equally captures the human comedy in all its contradictions and nobility from the margins of Soviet society. This sense of the quotidian as a continuum of human experience, elegantly rendered in Omirbaev's recent film, The Road through Amir's recurring daydream of a mother milking a cow and her intrusive child (who, in turn, looks remarkably like Amir's own son) in rural Kazakhstan (an image that subsequently proves to be a catalytic historical memory from his childhood when man landed on the moon), can also be seen from the outset of Omirbaev's cinema through his incorporation of a decidedly Buñuelian sequence in the short film, July of a young boy who, while on the lookout for guards near the foothills of a kolkhoz commissary, curiously finds himself wandering into a recital hall where the performance of a young pianist is punctuated by the appearance of a horseman on the stage. Part pastoral observation on the pervasiveness of underdevelopment and the austerity of life in the rural villages of Soviet-era collective farms (and in particular, at the outlying frontiers of the Soviet Central Asia), and part autofiction on a pair of restless boys whose penchant for escapist (mis)adventures reveal a nascent, if displaced, creative sensibility, July establishes the aesthetic framework that would come to define Omirbaev's cinema: the overture of first love depicted through seemingly innocent - yet deliberate - passing touches (the bus encounter in Kaïrat, the movie house flirtation in July); the frustration of isolation inherent in a rural childhood manifested through acts of mischief (the opening sequence of Kaïrat, the courtyard fight of Kardiogramma), the subconscious act of self-reflection illustrated through literal self-reflection through the reflected image of a rear view mirror (Marat's drive home from the hospital in Killer, Amir's extended road trip to visit his ailing mother in The Road). Inevitably, what proves to be the most remarkable - and irresistible - aspect of Omirbaev's deceptively simple coming of age film is its ability to capture the interpenetration between reality and fiction interpenetrate with such seemingly effortless, uninhibited intimacy - a wide eyed innocence that hovers in the ephemeral - ever teetering between solemnity and absurdity, boredom and roguishness, anxiety and imagination.