【作文】六年级看电影有感作文500字：看《我和我的祖国》有感

清晨六点升起的那面旗

星期五下午，全校在多功能厅看《我和我的祖国》。第一个故事讲开国大典，电影刚开头，我的眼睛就热了。

一九四九年十月一日，天安门广场聚了几十万人。毛主席按下电钮，第一面五星红旗缓缓升起，全场欢呼，我也跟着拍手。可电影告诉我，为了按电钮那一下不出差错，有个人连着两天没有睡觉。

他叫林治远，是负责设计升旗装置的工程师。为了让旗子清晨六点准时顺杆上升，他连夜在广场上试装旗杆。杆子太细，旗子升到一半卡住了，他爬上去一遍一遍调整，试到东方发白才成功。他答应过小女儿，要一起看大典，可那天他实在走不开。小女孩举着爸爸给她做的小旗，独自爬上房顶，用望远镜看大典。旗子升起来的时候，她冲着广场喊，旗升起来啦。

最让我难忘的是那个电动栏杆。大典上台子边容易出事，战士们要举着长杆拦在边上。林治远不放心，蹲在旗杆底下，看旗子一寸一寸往上爬，手心里全是汗。五十四面旗，二十八个台阶，毛主席按电钮只用了几秒，可这几秒背后，是一个工程师两夜没合的眼睛。

灯光亮起来的时候，我一直在想房顶上的小女孩。课本上说建国很伟大，这部电影让我看见伟大是什么样的：它是一堆没有名字的人，把自己手里的事做到不出一点错。

回教室的大巴上，同桌说他记住了林治远爬杆的那双手，冻得通红还在拧螺丝。我也记住了。原来历史书上一行短短的字，背后是这样一双手在深夜里干活。

下周一学校升旗，两名护旗手迈着正步走向旗杆，我忽然想起蹲在旗杆下的林治远。我把腰站直，国歌唱得比平时响。我只是一个普通小学生，可我能像他那样，把每一次升旗都认真对待。

The Flag Raised at Six in the Morning

On Friday afternoon, our whole school watched My People, My Country in the hall. The first story is about the founding ceremony, and my eyes were hot before it even began.

On October 1, 1949, hundreds of thousands gathered at Tiananmen Square. Chairman Mao pressed the button, and the first Five-Star Red Flag rose slowly. The crowd cheered, and I clapped with them. But the film told me that to make that single press perfect, one man had stayed awake for two days.

His name was Lin Zhiyuan, the engineer in charge of the flag-raising device. To make sure the flag would climb the pole on time at six in the morning, he tested the pole through the night. The pole was too narrow, and the flag stuck halfway. He climbed up and adjusted it again and again until the sky turned pale. He had promised his little daughter that they would watch the ceremony together, but he could not leave. The girl held a small flag made by her father and climbed to the roof alone, watching through a telescope. When the flag rose, she shouted toward the square that the flag was up.

What I remember most is the electric barrier. The edge of the platform could be dangerous, so soldiers held long poles along it. Lin Zhiyuan worried, and he crouched under the flagpole, watching the flag climb inch by inch, his palms wet with sweat. Fifty-four flags, twenty-eight steps. The press of the button took only seconds, but behind those seconds were the sleepless eyes of one engineer.

When the lights came on, I kept thinking of the little girl on the roof. Our books say the founding of the country was great. This film showed me what that greatness looks like: a crowd of nameless people doing their own small work without a single mistake.

On the bus back to the classroom, my deskmate said he remembered the hands of Lin Zhiyuan climbing the pole, red with cold yet still turning screws. I remembered them too. A single short line in our history book stands behind such hands working late into the night.

On Monday our school raised the flag. As two guards marched to the pole, I suddenly thought of Lin Zhiyuan crouching under his. I stood straight and sang the anthem louder than usual. I am only an ordinary student, but like him, I can treat every flag-raising with care.

没有名字的叔叔

《我和我的祖国》讲了七个故事，最让我心里发酸的是关于原子弹的那一个。

年轻科研人员高远参加原子弹研究，从进基地那天起，他就把名字换成了编号。他不能告诉任何人自己在哪儿，包括他喜欢的姑娘。四年里，他们断了联系。有一天他坐公交车，一抬头，姑娘就坐在对面。她认出他，喊他的名字，眼泪一下子涌出来。他摇摇头，压低声音说，这个我不能说。车到站，他下了车，回到戈壁滩上去。我在座位上屏着呼吸，不敢出声。

基地里条件特别苦。他们用手摇计算器一遍遍算数据，草稿纸堆得比人高，风沙打在脸上生疼。试验那天，所有人躲到很远的地方，跟着倒计时一起数。火球腾起来，蘑菇云稳稳立在天上，人群跳起来，帽子抛得老高。高远笑了，脸上全是沙。没有人知道他的名字，可是天上的云记得他。

电影里也有开国大典那一幕。毛主席按下电钮，第一面五星红旗在天安门升起，全场沸腾。我忽然明白，从一九四九年那面旗，到戈壁滩上那朵云，中间走着无数个高远这样的人。他们把名字、家庭甚至命都交了出去，换来了后来人安安稳稳的日子。

电影里还有一个细节，高远的草稿纸被大风卷跑，他追出去好远好远。那些纸上没有名字，只有算式，可正是这些算式把蘑菇云送上了天。

我爷爷在工厂干了三十年，从不把厂里的东西带回家，也很少讲自己的事。小时候我觉得他平平无奇，现在我想，也许正是这些不吭声的普通人，把国家往前推。

电影最后，高远和姑娘都老了，头发白了，坐在一起听那首《我和我的祖国》。我擦擦眼睛想：我们习以为常的每一天，都有人悄悄买过单，而且不留名字。我想记住他们，哪怕只是记住一个编号。

The Uncle Without a Name

My People, My Country tells seven stories, and the one about the atomic bomb made my heart ache.

The young researcher Gao Yuan joined the atomic bomb project. From the day he entered the base, his name was replaced by a number. He could not tell anyone where he was, not even the girl he loved. For four years they had no contact. One day on a bus, he looked up and there she sat, right across from him. She recognized him, called his name, and tears came at once. He shook his head and said in a low voice that he could not talk about it. The bus stopped, he got off, and went back to the desert. In my seat I held my breath.

Life in the base was hard. They turned hand calculators again and again to check the numbers, and the paper drafts piled higher than a person. Sand beat against their faces. On the test day, everyone hid far away and counted down together. A fireball rose, and a mushroom cloud stood steady in the sky. People jumped and threw their hats high. Gao Yuan smiled with a face full of sand. Nobody knew his name, but the cloud in the sky remembered him.

The film also shows the founding ceremony. The chairman pressed the button, and the first Five-Star Red Flag rose over Tiananmen while the crowd cheered. I understood then that between that flag in 1949 and that cloud in the desert stood countless people like Gao Yuan. They gave up their names, their families, and some even their lives, so that later generations could live in peace.

There is another small detail in the film. The draft papers of Gao Yuan were swept away by a strong wind, and he chased them far, far off. Those papers carried no names, only formulas, yet it was exactly these formulas that sent the mushroom cloud into the sky.

My grandfather worked in a factory for thirty years. He never brought anything home from work and seldom spoke about himself. As a child I thought he was plain. Now I think maybe it is exactly these quiet ordinary people who push a country forward.

At the end of the film, Gao Yuan and the girl are old, their hair white, sitting together and listening to the song My People, My Country. I wiped my eyes and thought: for every ordinary day we take for granted, someone paid the bill quietly and left no name. I want to remember them, even if all I know is a number.