片子不長,詩句很美~當(dāng)斯內(nèi)普遇上特里勞妮,也許壓抑深沉的基調(diào)就早已注定。低沉完美的嗓音,深情細(xì)膩的原詩,連續(xù)兩遍,說不清的若有所失就像彌漫在空氣中一樣,道不出原委,卻不來不去,靜靜淌過,從片頭至片尾。是什么讓原本心底的諾言失效,讓那些念念不忘最終被置之度外。。。是歲月呵,還是彼此呢?。。。我們終于成為了再無瓜葛陌生人,這個結(jié)論如此堅定又如此令人受傷。堅定得一如當(dāng)戀情一開始相信一定會從此攜手與共的信念一樣;受傷,就像一件融入自身記憶個人成長的物件出乎預(yù)料的突然割除,好似被放了冷槍一般,雖不致命,卻也傷的不深不淺,一經(jīng)提起便會長久的隱隱作痛,這大概可稱之為愛的余威吧,是如此的不可阻擋。
會有人覺得女人占上風(fēng),男人可憐么?其實他們一樣的,一樣會感懷于原來曾與之共享過一個靈魂的另一具肉體今天與自己截然不同的模樣吧。曾經(jīng)靠的那么近,應(yīng)此也更對比出此時此刻這中間隔著的距離,無法精確,大抵剛好一個餐桌,是彼此夠不著彼此的距離。女人打扮得有多精致直接反應(yīng)她對面的人至少曾經(jīng)于她來說是多麼的舉足輕重,才讓她遠(yuǎn)從巴黎就這樣翩然而至只為赴這一次短暫而無望的午宴。他們都忘不了時光長河另一端的彼此,無奈他們已經(jīng)在不同的方向上跑的太久,一切都已不再。只嘆那流失的時光和那個你。再見吧,走遠(yuǎn)的不可追。那些空空蕩蕩卻嗡嗡作響的若有所失便是那不可阻擋的愛的余威。
睡前看了這部短篇《午宴之歌》,接下來仿佛整晚的夢里都是關(guān)于這部電影,醒來后再也無法入睡,所以干脆爬起來把由此引發(fā)的感觸付諸于文字,于是有了以下這篇觀后感。
影片一開始,那獨特的旁白便深深吸引了我,它細(xì)膩的捕捉到了男主人公每一個細(xì)微的心理變化,并用精準(zhǔn)而富有詩意的語言將其表達(dá)出來。從影片開篇的鋪墊已經(jīng)能猜到電影的主題,男主人公來到十五年前最愛的一家意大利餐廳,原本想找回藏在心里多年的記憶,而卻發(fā)現(xiàn)很多東西已然物是人非:餐廳周圍的街巷,內(nèi)部的裝飾,忙碌的服務(wù)生,用餐的客人,桌上的桌布,以及簡易的菜單,所有這一切看起來都是如此陌生。對著滿屋子陌生的男男女女,他不禁感慨:“時間雖如白駒過隙,對這群充滿生機(jī)的年輕人而言卻如此悄無聲息不為人知……”
在我們的生活中何嘗不曾遇到類似的場景——當(dāng)你來到某些熟悉的不能再熟悉的地方,雖然多年未達(dá),卻在夢中常常神游至此,但看到眼前的景致,你不得不感慨時過境遷,在你的記憶里它永遠(yuǎn)是那個樣子,而在現(xiàn)實中卻一點一點被時間改變著,直至面目全非……每當(dāng)這樣的時候,你會發(fā)現(xiàn),它的變化帶給你內(nèi)心的震顫,要遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)大于那些不變的——或說你以為未變的帶給你的驚喜……
隨著女主人公的出現(xiàn),這種物是人非的陌生感便繼續(xù)升級——“熟悉的唇唇相依,卻還有些什么不同。每處變化,都使他的記憶越發(fā)清晰?!彼南嗝沧兓蛟S并不大,但當(dāng)她開口稱贊這間餐廳的變化,并稱之為“改進(jìn)”時,著實刺痛了他的心——她竟然對那些他難以接受的改變表示欣喜,這一細(xì)微的意見上的沖突讓他感到不悅,甚至有些氣急敗壞。其實這一細(xì)節(jié)已經(jīng)暗示了后面更多的沖突,也揭示了造成后面的尷尬和悲傷最本質(zhì)的問題:She was moving on, but he was still there ——她已經(jīng)隨著時間向前行,而他卻始終被困在過去,或者更確切的說,困在自己的回憶之中。
然而這只是開始,因為這一差異,接下來所發(fā)生的一切更加讓他更加感到心痛。他所期盼的在經(jīng)歷了多年之后仍然留存在感情中的溫存,逐一被打破。這或許是最讓人絕望的事情:朝思幕想的人就在眼前,你們之間只有一張桌子的距離,然而四目相對,你卻感覺到她如此遙遠(yuǎn),前所未有的遙遠(yuǎn)。因為這距離不是空間上的距離,而是時間上的。
由此,他們的談話很難談得上投機(jī),這一切對他而言似乎是那么的難以接受,于是他將對她的依戀轉(zhuǎn)化到對杯中的酒?!熬婆c舌之間有一種親密聯(lián)結(jié),一種強(qiáng)烈的相互吸引,它們彼此互補(bǔ),它們深切相愛。當(dāng)兩者相遇時,瞬間產(chǎn)生出極值的快感……”于是他漸漸喝醉了。于是后來的情形越發(fā)不可收拾,原本期待多年的一場會面,竟然以如此悲慘而尷尬的方式收場。
影片的最后,那已經(jīng)年邁得讓人幾乎辨認(rèn)不出的餐館兒老板Massimo,為整部片又增添了幾分戲劇性。他的變化仿佛也同男女主人公之間的感情一樣,變得面目全非。
不得不贊嘆導(dǎo)演對男主人公的情感細(xì)致入微的而又極其到位的把握,將其心情的跌宕起伏、期盼與失落表現(xiàn)得淋漓盡致絲絲入扣。倘若早知道這樣的結(jié)局,大概他一早便不會發(fā)出這樣的邀請,約她見面。兩人早就說好不再回首往事,但他禁不住誘惑——來源于美好回憶的誘惑——而主動約了她。對于已經(jīng)翻過那一頁的她而言,這不算什么,于是便欣然接受邀請,并能夠在席間表現(xiàn)得足夠優(yōu)雅得體。而對于他而言,就沒那么容易了,他始終沉浸在過去中,或說他自己營造的世界中,走不出來。有誰曾經(jīng)說過,最美的愛情其實是一個人的故事。對此我表示認(rèn)同。在一個人的世界里,沒有兩個人的沖突,沒有人會冒出來打破美好的意境,沒有在對方說出不盡如人意的話語時帶給人的刺痛,沒有愛情變質(zhì)帶來的失落,有的只是基于某個人所產(chǎn)生的美好想像,而這種想像——只要想像力夠豐富的話,可以無窮無盡。因此——在看過這部片后再一次得出的結(jié)論:相見不如懷念——讓那些美好的過往永遠(yuǎn)埋藏在心底,而不要輕易拿出來將它撕破。
買了這本書. 一來為了仔細(xì)研讀,力圖翻譯準(zhǔn)確; 二來為了留做紀(jì)念, 畢竟是第一次看詩歌改編的劇, 更是第一次接觸詩歌翻譯.
片子本身我不想再評論, 這種片子需要自己逐字逐句去體會. 看的次數(shù)越多, 便越是感嘆語言的魅力. 就是這樣在字斟句酌之間, 不經(jīng)意的,好些臺詞幾乎都記在心里了. (然而我要再啰嗦一句: 這種文學(xué)性太強(qiáng)的詩歌并不適合當(dāng)作教材'學(xué)英文', 本詩一些用詞和表達(dá)方式, 英國人表示他們自己也看不太懂, 更別提使用了.)
劇中的臺詞, 全是直接用的原詩句, 但不可避免有刪掉的部分, 所以打算把原詩當(dāng)中沒有編進(jìn)本劇的章節(jié)敲出來, 有興趣的可以看看.
------
注1: 括號中的是劇中出現(xiàn)過的, 方便大家定位.
注2: 大小寫, 換行, 標(biāo)點, 均依照faber&faber出版社2010年版 (
http://www.faber.co.uk/work/song-of-lunch/9780571273522/).
<1>
(Keep your imagination peeled and see
Virginia Woolf
loping off to the library
with a trug full of books.)
At every twentieth step,
she takes a sharp drag at a cigarette
and pulls a tormented face
as if she had never tasted anything
so disgusting.
(And there goes T.S. Eliot,
bound for his first martini of the day.
With his gig-lamps and his immaculate sheen,)
he eases pastyou like a limousine:
a powerful American model.
<2>
(Gaggles of tourists straggle
more provocatively than ever;)
the approach to Bedford Square is blocked:
orange plastic barriers--
our century's major contribution
to the junk art of street furniture!
(Never mind, he's making good time--
note the active verb--
and he expects she'll be late.)
So he allows himself to feel
pleasure in his own fleetness,
in not being carried but riding
the currents and eddies
of the human torrent.
And occasionally stopping
to let another pass,
unthanked politeness being
the ultimate gesture
of the metropolitan dandy.
<3>
(The restaurant
is an old haunt,
though he hasn't been there for years;)
not since the publishing trade,
once the province
of swashbucklers and buccaneers,
was waylaid by suits and calculators,
and a strict afternoon
curfew imposed.
Farewell to long lunches
and other boozy pursuits!
Hail to the new age
of the desk potato,
strict hours of imprisonment
and eyesight tortured
by an impassive electronic screen!
Sometimes, though, a man needs
to go out on the rampage,
throw conscientious time-keeping
to the winds,
help kill a few bottles--
and bugger the consequences.
If not a right, exactly,
it's a rite,
and therefore approved in the sight
of some notional higher authority.
<4>
Lunch being a game with few rules,
and those unwritten,
it's important to him that the field of play
remain the same
as he fondly remembers it.
(Zanzotti's: unreformed Soho Italian.
...
cultureless, fly-by-night.)
He stops for a scrawny lad
wheeling a big, unsteady,
rust-patched, festering bin
to park at the roadside,
and wonders what he will find.
<5>
And that's where Dylan Thomas
scrounged ten bob off him,
then set about seducing his girl.
Not.
Seriously, though,
what will they say when they look back
at our demythologised age?
Postmodern Times:
garrulous, garish classic
starring
some idiot off the box.
Charlie Cretin!
Needs work.
Craplin? Forget it.
He cuts down Meard Street,
now much too smart for its name
but where he remembers
a knocking-shop henever went into--
feral whores at the window--
turns the corner, crosses,
and (hey presto:
Zanzotti's edges into view.)
<6>
Same tricolore paintwork,
thick from repeated coats
and somehow suggesting edibility.
Same signwriter's cursive
festooning the fascia-board
and flanked by the same brass lamps.
It's so much the same, it almost
looks like a replica.
The Wardour Street wideboys and creatives
must love it,
must think it's the campest retro--
when it's the real thing.
Through a gap in the blind,
he can see quite a few of them in there already.
Well, never mind.
He wishes no one ill.
Democracy of the feeding-trough;
swill and let swill.
He and his hand on the door-handle,
and foot on the grooved step,
(when he suddently recollects--
what, precisely?
Deja vu? Some artistic analogy?)
A true liminal moment,
or simply a trick
of the dictionary-picker's skittering brain?
Eye-corner glimpse
of fugitive epiphany
that, for several beats,
he pursues in vain.
(Too bad. Let it go.)
He has his hand still on the dimpled
brass bul of the door-handle.
Which he turns, noticing
the familiar loose-jointedness:
that's a promissing sign.
With the meekest bump of resistance
from the spring contraption overhead,
the door yields and he steps inside
to stand on the prickled mat,
peering into the gloom.
Midday twilight,
requiring adjustment
of all the senses
before it delivers its secrets.
He scans the room,
which is deeper than you might guess from the street,
registers its busyness,
and wonders which of the few
untaken covers will be his.
Not that one by the door
to the toilets, he hopes;
nor the one with too much window light.
Snug privacy is what he wants:
to be tucked away from the bustle:
ideally, over there.
(On the threshold, on the edge
of a shadow-world)
<7>
(Without a smile, without a word,
he is eybrowed and nodded to follow.)
Which he does, past tables,
past people at tables,
he is careful not to brush
with either himself or his shoulder-bag.
Aloof carriage, side=steps,
calculated indirection:
it's as much a dance as a walk.
And it gets him nicely
to the spot he had spotted
from the door.
Laid for two. A little island. An eyot.
Perfect.
<8>
(We said we wouldn't look back.)
Innocent jaunty wistful
ditty from the wings
and would run uninterrupted
if he didn't shoo it away.
Just one of those things.
Ditto.
A song for every cliche!
Though it was more, he's perfectly sure,
than a bell that now and then
(Why did she e-mail him
suggesting)
No, he
Woofs of laughter
in imprecise unison
from a table, all men,
jolly good company,
off to his right.
He draws a breadstick,
wrong brand, from its ripped sheath
and beheads it with a bite.
<9>
In twilight himself
(he commands, nice word,
a clear view of the entrance,
...
What will she look like?)
On his third tasteless
but moreish breadstick,
he's startled: she's changed.
But he's wrong. She hasn't. She isn't.
Back to his chewing:
the fragmentation
and mashing of rusk
soothingly loud
in the isolated chamber of his skull.
<10>
(Hello?)
He jolts. Ice cubes
slurrily clatter
to the bottom of the tumbler
as he bumps it back on the table.
Wiping his wet lip
also expresses surprise.
(She's here. How did that happen!)
<11>
(Have some wine,) he adds,
any stage business
being better than a dry.
(I'm afraid it hasn't really had time,
but
He pours into the two glasses,
measuring by ear
identical notes,)
then doesn't put the bottle down.
He has a speech to deliver.
(...
And they drink.
Becoming palatable.)
Her expression expresses no judgement
and she puts the glass down.
(You haven't changed.
...
It's almost all pizzas,)
he apologises
before she has read a word.
(I'm afraid the place has gone to the dogs.)
She looks around, cursorily.
(Don't be absurd, it's fine.)
<12>
Across the table
across clean cloth and clutter
she leans and wooingly twice
with middle finger
nudges him on the knuckle.
(Come on, no sulks. Be nice. Sois sage.
...
Pax,) he agrees, aggrieved.
And they shake hands,
a squeeze of fingers rather:
hers light then tight
then light again in his,
then efficiently retrieved.
<13>
He is startled from this reckless
plunge into memory
by his own awareness of it:
like snpping out of a doze.
How long can it have lasted?
Gone some time.
(But she seems not to have noticed,
...
you were practically seducing him
a minute ago.)
She swivels her gaze back:
smiling, surprisingly.
(It's nice to know
you're still madly jealous.)
<14>
(And we'll need another bottle of this.)
The waiter goes:
one of those fellows
you'd describe as nondescript
if the word wasn't forbidden.
How many times
in some author's manuscript
has he crossed it out and written
There is nothing that cannot be described.
But in this particular case,
searching in ain
for any distinctive feature,
he may allow and exception.
From that thought idly
on a ride of the eye
around the room--
the bustle, the hubbub--
he travels to the next:
a small dark waitress carrying
three filled plates
from the kitchen hatch
reverses pauses turns proceeds
with such practised fluency
that he'd like to catch
her eye to show her
his appreciation
and be rewar
去倫敦SOHO區(qū)吃一份意大利餐,是因為與舊日情人的約會,雖然那里的餐廳不是很體面,在男主角的印象中,往時的Zanzotti's是傳統(tǒng)的意大利餐館——"木籃中的Chianti紅酒,掰開時碎渣微濺的脆面包棍,純綠紙桌布上交錯疊著紅色格子桌布,玻璃水罐上的斑斑指紋,還有佯作親切的馬西莫(餐廳老板)在桌間周旋穿梭"。但這里擁有十五年前的戀愛幻想,以及一位文藝?yán)锨嗄耆匀粚τ趫?zhí)著自我興致盎然。
故事畫面開始于一個偷閑的午后,充滿著清新爽朗,正是男主角大好心情、得意忘形的行走在倫敦布魯姆伯瑞區(qū)(Bloomsbury),那里出版商云集,映射著這位終究落寞的男主角,逃脫不了出版界自尊與競爭相矛盾的殘酷命運,至今,他才出版過一本詩歌集。
步行20分鐘,來到SOHO區(qū),他挑剔起了這里的改變——“一堆雞肋,缺少文化,毫不可靠”。劇中不少尖酸的言辭,令某些觀眾特別是女性開始厭煩。當(dāng)然,描寫劇中的人物思緒及用餐細(xì)節(jié)十分有趣,又處處著跡于男主角敏感又自戀的言行舉止,這時已經(jīng)想象得出為何十幾年前情人離他而去,而今日的相見已不存在什么幻想了。
餐廳里,他又開始挑剔服務(wù)員微笑欠奉一言不發(fā),桌布改成了白色沒有了愛國之心,餐牌用上嘩啦作響的塑封紙卡碩大無比,菜單上披薩品種太多口味繁雜,而在他總結(jié)為“在新的不善經(jīng)營之下,一切終究是變了”。這時,他要先點一瓶紅酒,酒單就在菜單背面,紅酒作簡單的分類——Merlot一瓶16.3鎊;Chianti一瓶15.3鎊;Rioja Crianza一瓶15.6鎊,他點了一瓶Chianti。接下來看看是如何描述初嘗一瓶廉價紅酒的——“砰,瓶塞抽離瓶口,他靈敏的鼻子想要獲取逃逸的酒香,侍者按規(guī)矩將酒斟出少許,兩分滿,他舉杯細(xì)聞...Not corked,他要親自倒酒,入口頗澀但應(yīng)會后味綿長,他拿起他的冰水,泡泡一擁而上向他致意,輕掇一口感覺冰涼的泡沫拍打他的上顎,他沒想到自己如此口渴,一飲而盡直到冰塊堆至上唇”。描述的有點諷刺,這時,他的舊日情人安然而至。
似乎此時,故事才進(jìn)入對話階段,但導(dǎo)演沒有馬上迎來中國式的噓寒問暖,讓觀眾久久等待之余,卻又舒服的看著他們輕吻,指尖撫摸著對方手背,目光伴隨著輕奏的鋼琴聲對她進(jìn)行細(xì)致的掃視,輪廓突出清澈怡人,最后卻聚焦到她那鮮紅的名牌皮包,消費無憂的跡象,財富的味道!完了,自尊又受傷了。在等她發(fā)音:“There(到了)”,他回應(yīng):“Here(來了)”。就這樣,開始了他們的午宴約會。
一開始還能優(yōu)雅地輕斟細(xì)掇——“他倒了兩杯酒,憑耳朵判斷量度,讓兩杯酒奏出相同音韻;杯沿叮咚輕碰,酒光婀娜搖曳,酒色深邃黯淡,一口美酒下肚,他們于是心滿意足”??刹粻帤獾乃帜钸读耍嘤嗟膽涯钇鹋f日用木籃子裝承的酒瓶。點菜時甚有喜感,再結(jié)合略帶妄想癥的話題,他這樣形容自己在出版社的工作——“一份粗制濫造的手稿,經(jīng)過流水線要變成文藝作品,今早某個傻冒的新作,一通淫詞艷曲幼稚哲學(xué)低級散文,胡言亂語的滾出來,便成為本周最佳節(jié)目之類不知所謂的東西,欺蒙拐騙荒誕離奇,而明天,我們的天才們會從動物園逃出來直奔我們,爪子里舉著毫無生氣的最新巨著”。而她,只描述了一下自己“Business as usual(生意照舊)”以作回應(yīng)。
她點了南瓜餃搭海鱸,他是白汁紅肉那波里披薩,對于食物的評價,牛肉肥瘦正好,續(xù)隨子醬味道也沒有太過,可是形容他的披薩,一輪蓋滿粘稠物的面團(tuán),邊緣微微燒焦,哎,又是他。而在他眼中的她就優(yōu)雅得多——落下餐叉,刺穿,劃破,切斷,鋸割,片開一塊鼓鼓囊囊的閃閃發(fā)亮的通心粉快,乘起半塊送入口中咀嚼。慢慢地,他進(jìn)入了往日的意淫,他們的床上云雨,穿過酒氣蒙蒙的迷霧,他又再一次被提醒“你的眼神有點不正”。但無論他如何意淫,在每次思緒飄遠(yuǎn)時,緩如細(xì)水的鋼琴伴隨著舊日片段,另一種性感的呼吸聲隨著鏡頭落在她香肩長頸,他想輕輕吸吮,用鼻子蹭蹭她的下顎,觀眾都能盡情享受著這一切。當(dāng)微醉時,矛盾復(fù)雜的心情又再現(xiàn)于他對最后一杯酒描述——“最后一口酒的滋味,如銹般蝕在舌上,粗糲,但舌頭仍在渴望,杯中剩下的酒發(fā)出鐵銹紫般光澤,所以酒與舌之間有一種親密聯(lián)結(jié),一種強(qiáng)烈的相互吸引,它們彼此互補(bǔ)深切相愛,舌發(fā)出靜默的呼喚,而酒雖無生命氣息,卻會留神傾聽,那這一次舉杯之時,就不要停留,好讓情人得以相見,它們親吻了,一瞬間極致的快感,不足以盡興,好在可以隨后不斷重演”。
最后一杯Grappa落肚,他醉倒了,醒來已是故事尾聲,卻有種反諷的唏噓,在空擋的餐廳里他終于見到了已近風(fēng)燭殘年的餐廳老板馬西莫,“如西西里地下墓穴中的尸體般僵硬,空有軀殼毫無生氣,仿佛輕觸一下便會潰散一地”。
《午宴之歌》改編自Christopher Reid 的敘事詩,Alan Rickman與Emma Thompson主演,詩般的妄想陳詞,犀利的對答,用Alan Rickman磁性聲音作心里獨白再好不過了。
斯內(nèi)普磁性的聲音讓人難以自拔 細(xì)細(xì)長長的生命之河 懷念過往 或 許真的不快樂 卻又能夠讓浮躁的心安靜下來 真快我們在老去 四周的親切的事物都已消失 一切都是物是人非一切也都改變 或許我們真的不應(yīng)該來赴這場午餐之約 只在夕陽緩落的傍晚在記憶里 一遍又一遍重溫和你走過的美好
多么精致的故事,多么成功的改編,多么過癮的對手戲!
媽的 為了這倆人 我直是生肉也要啃了
女人喜歡的老男人和男人喜歡的老女人
兩位是演技的保證,艾瑪頭一次如此美麗。
AR的表演課,ET負(fù)責(zé)喂招。電影的發(fā)明讓illusion和reality變得不再涇渭分明也沒有道德評判,可是電影工業(yè)卻朝著消解現(xiàn)實一路狂奔過去。但它應(yīng)該是這樣,未完成,不徹底,混沌又有照見人心的真實。想到葉芝的飲酒歌:當(dāng)我們還未老,未死,我舉杯,看著你,嘆息。
這兩只怎么不管到哪兒都這么來電
終極銀幕情侶檔,就是AR+ET
費那勁拍電影做啥,直接錄成有聲讀物不是更好。
我喜歡這種絮絮叨叨的電影。
感性優(yōu)雅,冷靜又舒緩的旁白,意猶未盡。老戲骨對決,好有味
但凡未得到,但凡是過去,總是最登對。
詩居然可以拍成電影,太神奇了。人真是復(fù)雜的生物,就算面對面坐著的兩個人,其實也各有各的世界,溝通實在不易。
他不確定究竟是意志力還是紅酒的作用,老狗終究還是不情愿的服從了,縮回它孤獨寂寞,氣味難聞的小窩,沉入另一個冗長的夢中。
詩很好,興奮和期待開頭,難堪和沮喪中場,悵惋收尾。改編真特別。想想這的確是最合適的改編方式。"cajoling english, caressing french".
英倫的靡靡口音絕對是一筆巨大的財富,聽著Alan Rickman的旁白,幾乎可以將人融化。Christopher Reid的敘事詩耐人尋味,兩位實力派的演技同樣讓人驚艷,一部幾乎完美同時又很無聊的電影,除非你感性敏感熱愛詩歌。好吧,也自戀一回,我想我是。★★★★
"but he might have died and be returning as a ghost." 15年后,你約到了曾經(jīng)的親密戀人,你們在老地方共進(jìn)午餐,你壓抑著、遐想著、沖動著、尷尬的遮掩著,試圖在她眼睛里找到一些過去的影子,但最終確只能承認(rèn):愛如云煙。
太棒了,這兩人放一起絕配啊~AR是神啊~
擦 明天就播了啊 有愛的逼逼西??!詩歌改變成電影電視 創(chuàng)舉!!AR磁性的嗓音就著苦逼的銀生顯得格外地滄桑且深沉!Emma嬸一改Mcphee的扮丑 回歸了優(yōu)雅!絕對的Amazing!
Christopher Reid 的好詩啊,很喜歡這個調(diào)調(diào)