#《拂乡心》9·12中秋档# 电影结束后的主创见面会，96岁的常枫老爷子拄着拐杖出场的时候，现场掌声雷动，经久不息，为优秀的作品鼓掌，也向敬业的演员们致敬。电影入围了上海电影节的最佳影片，但我觉得最应该的是最佳男主角和最佳女主角，期待好的结果。 第一次知道台湾有红包...  (展开)

没有狗尾续貂，第二季还是很不错的，等了一年，2天看完。
但是，但是，但是，重要的话说三遍：
 1.片尾和第二季剧情有毛线关系；
 2.话说第三季看上去都拍好了，打算什么时候播？
 3.外星人那两集是个什么鬼，不是说好说鬼故事的吗？真的是拿来凑集数的吧，话说？
 4.最后一集“番外”又是什么鬼，看完外星人那集已经受到了1万点的伤害，第20集又玩什么啊，编剧、导演，你们拍戏真的是好任性啊！
 5.我要第三季，快拿来，快拿来。

作为一部还没上映就引起期待的影片 他确实有吸引人的点 从导演到演员 但是简单概括一下 就是一个性情古怪的美国传奇人物＋一段美好的爱情 如果想把Mr.Huges的一生表现得自我又带有一丝温情 那么这点人性可能就要从身边人的 感情联系下手了 于是就有了这段打破规则的爱情 Frank...  (展开)

    这是我看的第一部不讨厌任贤齐的电影。
    我本身不太能看叙事缓慢、偏清淡的电影，总控制不住快进的手。这部电影叙事也是这种台湾风格，好在前面一切非常有条不紊，张弛有度。细碎的小事，情节缓慢发展，却不致无聊扫兴。

    伟中遇到Thomas之后的生活就是欲望、本性在煎熬着理智。
    就像生活中缓缓、细微、切磨着你的小痛，切肤之痛，像被凌迟一样，你每天一点点感到这些痛楚，直到把你磨光。
    伟中算得上个好人。选择家庭，照顾孩子，克制出轨，这一切……可人真的能抗拒本质的吸引吗？一千一万个合适的条件的罗列都比不上你眼神不由自主的追逐着一个人。爱是掩盖不住，压抑不住的。至少，你骗不过自己。他是懦弱的，没有那么多不顾一切，没有在面对爱的时候坚强，闷闷的，像我们每个人一样。他又是诚实的，他没有准备好的时候便退缩。我不能厌烦这个角色，就像不能厌恶每一个生活在身边的普通人一样。
    结尾还是有点儿后劲不足。总体够得上四颗星。虽然我还是不知道电影名字和导演意图有什么关系。

    或者你follow your heart,或者你用所谓的道德感束缚住一切，选择一场耗尽一辈子的拉锯战。

和琅琊榜一样，伪装者是当下坊间议论最多的热门国产电视剧，当我决定看这个剧前，各方的朋友们曾不断安利我，这是一部编剧脑洞全开的神剧，然而，他们也不忘强调，如果想看得爽，当明台跟女主谈恋爱时，选择适当快进即可。

这部电视剧拥有一个很酷炫的框架结构，明家姐弟三人在乱世之中隐藏身份各为其主，在日占区残酷的斗争环境中伪装着保护自己，为各自信仰而战斗，特别是明楼和阿城的“蝙蝠侠与罗宾”式的组合，在国产谍战剧中也是难得一见的又有颜值，又有缜密逻辑的设定，让人不忍弃剧。然而，事实上到了明台的设定上，为了体现这个人物的改变而做出的种种情节，却显得如此苍白乏力，令人扼腕叹息。

简单梳理一下明台这一角色，他首先是一张没有鲜明立场的白纸，半推半就中进入了军统，他本有各种机会脱身，最后却因为于曼丽而选择了留下，并接受了潜回上海的特工任务，然而当他一回到上海，就开始与我党地下特工女主不断地相遇相遇再相遇（任务也就算了，相亲也能碰上），原先关系暧昧的于曼丽在编剧的安排下就此成为纯粹的革命友谊和路人甲（我党女主明明才是路人甲）。这只是该剧走向崩溃的第一步，而从29集开始，全剧就因为编剧的无能而陷入了失控的危险境地之中。

简单地说，编剧为我们主要展现了以下一些剧情，我党地下情报小组组长通过翻找旧报纸而发现明台是自己的亲儿子，并向阿城方面摊牌；明台发现军统涉嫌走私，表达了强烈的抵触情绪并设法炸毁了走私线路；明台向我党情报小组组长（还不知道是亲爹）摊牌希望加入共产党；明台接受任务后主动向组员提出要跟我党联手解救日军战俘；明台以“花拳绣腿”（毛尖老师语）的方式执行任务；明台订婚。
我们光看这些剧情就能够体会到编剧在编排剧本大纲时心急火燎的状态，为了让明台向我党靠拢，编剧甚至不断地让剧中人物用对话的形式直接向观众们表达：“说不定哪天我就变成你们自己人了。”

然而，作为一个占到全剧比重大半的核心角色，明台的所谓“进步”竟然是全靠谈恋爱、认血缘、反对走私这些外部的条件变化来向观众们证明，他最后的转变具备了足够的合理性，这显然是编剧的败笔。明台这一角色之所以重要，是因为他选择了“重庆政府”的立场，而这一立场的根本出发点是他的家国情怀，然后才有了大哥明楼的暗中保护、大姐明面上的主持大局的戏剧冲突。

在无法寻找到改变这一人物内心的根本点的基础上，企图所谓的发现自己人“不争气”（走私），或者说情感上的变化（跟路人甲般的我党女主谈恋爱以及血亲关系）等生造出来的旁枝末节来证明这个人物需要做出改变，这也就是为什么我们一看明台谈恋爱或者执行任务就别扭的根本原因。

再拿他跟明家另外三个主要角色做对比就能很明显地看出这一漏洞。明楼和阿城的人物是捆绑塑造的，大姐是亲近我党的红色资本家，这些人物的根本立场都是从一开始就牢牢确定的（可以将其理解成同样的家国情怀），驱动这些人物在剧中的一切行为，都是基于他们自身的立场和符合角色本身的情感而进行的，比如大姐明镜，她既是为我党服务，又在明面上作为一个不知情的家长维系着家族的稳定和安全（比如一开始责罚、试探明楼，责罚明台等）；大哥明楼是三重间谍，同时又是掌控全局者，既要满足大姐对于亲人安全感的需要，又要时刻关注和保护弟弟的人身安全。因此，当这些人物在剧中说话、行动时，观众才会真正代入其中，因为他们的所有言行都已经被赋予了逻辑上的合理性。

再回过头来看明台，我很难理解，一个从本质上依然保持初心的热血青年，得像编剧的提线木偶一样，一开始与于曼丽暧昧不清，到了上海滩，立马就为了“政治正确”而跟我党特工谈起恋爱，甚至开始染上了精神洁癖（只有他发现走私会暴走，并丝毫不接受任何解释），并很快就表现出转变的意愿，更别提那些任务过程中浮夸的编排和诡异的逻辑了。

也许是毒蜂忘记在军校里开政治课了。

The Lost City of Z is a very long way from a true story — and I should know
A new Hollywood film hypes Percy Fawcett as a great explorer. In fact, he was a racist incompetent who achieved very little

The new film The Lost City of Z is being advertised as based on the true story of one of Britain’s greatest explorers. It is about Lt-Col Percy Fawcett. Greatest explorer? Fawcett? He was a surveyor who never discovered anything, a nutter, a racist, and so incompetent that the only expedition he organised was a five-week disaster. Calling him one of our greatest explorers is like calling Eddie the Eagle one of our greatest sportsmen. It is an insult to the huge roster of true explorers. Had the advertisement been about a soap powder, it would fall foul of the Trade Descriptions Act.

Percy Fawcett joined the army immediately after school, with a commission in the artillery in 1886. The next 20 years involved garrison duty in Ceylon and postings in Malta and England. The only significant events were getting married and becoming a devotee (like many others) of the charlatan psychic Madame Blavatsky. Fawcett’s game-changer came in 1906, when he was 40. The army let him take the Royal Geographical Society’s course on frontier surveying. Far away in South America, Bolivia had just sold its rubber-rich province of Acre to Brazil, so it needed its new north-western boundary mapped. The Bolivians approached the RGS for a mature surveyor to do this. The society’s secretary asked the newly qualified Fawcett whether he wanted to go; he accepted, reported for duty in La Paz and was at work on the new Amazonian frontier by the end of the year. This survey was the best thing Fawcett did. But he described it as boring, because the new frontier was all along rivers. This was the height of the great Amazon rubber boom, so he and his team cruised from one comfortable rubber barraca to the next, taking their regular measurements.

Fawcett’s only publications were a series of papers in the Geographical Journal about his mapping work. But he kept a journal, and in 1953 his son Brian edited this and other papers into a book called Exploration Fawcett. He emerges from it as a typical Edwardian colonial officer — friendly with South Americans but looking down on them, appalled by the cruelty at some rubber stations, full of gossip about life on this remote but boom-rich backwater, and uninterested in nature apart from banalities about dangerous snakes and irritating insects.

In 1908, the Bolivians asked Fawcett to survey another of their frontiers with Brazil: a small river called Verde, far away at the north-eastern corner of the large landlocked country. The preparations were appalling. Fawcett took minimal supplies, since he was accustomed to being fed by rubber stations. This was the end of the dry season with the river at its lowest. So they soon had to abandon their boat and continue on foot. After only a week, all food was exhausted and they were really starving. Fawcett casually remarked that five out of his six peons died from the effects of this five-week disaster. This was the only expedition he led into unexplored territory.

The Bolivians invited Fawcett back in 1910, this time to map part of their boundary with Peru. It involved paddling up a frontier river called Heath and two meetings with indigenous peoples on the banks. The first group fired arrows and guns over their heads. But Fawcett waded ashore with presents and shouting a few words of ‘Chuncho’ (the Peruvian word for all forest peoples) that he had memorised but did not understand. That was the only time that Fawcett attempted any language other than Spanish. Further up the Heath river, Fawcett met a tribe he called Ecocha (now Ese Eja) whom he really liked. They were ‘embarrassingly hospitable’ with their food, so Fawcett spent a few days with them and recorded something of their ethnography. He returned for a second visit in 1911.

After a final survey for the Bolivian government in 1913, of the upper Beni river in the Andes, Fawcett went sightseeing in central Bolivia. He and two companions were paddled down the big Guaporé river. They stopped at Mequens on its Brazilian bank to visit the Swedish anthropologist Baron Erland Nordenski?ld and his attractive wife, who provided guides to take them on a walk inland to visit a people they called Maxubi (now Makurap). The Maxubi were friendly and hospitable, but continuing on a forest trail Fawcett met another tribe (probably Sakurabiat) to whom he took a violent dislike. When one aimed a drawn bow at him, Fawcett shot the man with a Mauser revolver — absolutely forbidden by Brazil’s Indian Service. He described them as he imagined Neanderthals or Piltdown Man to have looked: ‘large hairy men, with exceptionally long arms, and foreheads sloping back from pronounced eye ridges… villainous savages, hideous ape men with pig-like eyes.’ No Amazonian Indian has body hair or looks remotely like this — I know, because I have spent time with over 40 different peoples. These two groups, and the two on the Heath, were the only tribal people seen by Fawcett. He liked two of them. So it was strange that he wrote racist gibberish that ‘there are three kinds of Indians. The first are docile and miserable people, easily tamed; the second, dangerous, repulsive cannibals very rarely seen; the third, a robust and fair people, who must have a civilised origin.’

When Fawcett was in the cattle country of central Bolivia in September 1914, news came of the outbreak of war. So he hurried home and by January 1915 was back in the artillery. In his late forties, he was too old for frontline service; but he fought a good war, ending as Lieutenant-Colonel.

In one of his pre-war lectures to the RGS, Fawcett had spoken of possible ancient ruins in the Amazon forests. He was now told about a scrap of paper dated 1743 in which bandeirantes imagined that they had seen a deserted city in the jungles. (The bandeirantes were slavers who scoured the interior of Brazil for Indians to capture. Although most of these thugs were illiterate, others did write reports about their travels — none of which said a word about seeing ruins.) Fawcett gave this imaginary ‘lost city’ the codename Z, and finding it became an obsession.

The easiest forest tribes to visit in Brazil were on the headwaters of one of the Amazon’s southern tributaries, the Xingu. A German anthropologist had contacted a dozen amiable peoples there in 1884; and since then they had been visited by seven groups of anthropologists or Indian Service officials. All had walked in by the same trail. So in 1920 Fawcett tried to follow this route — even though it was nowhere near where the chimera city might have been. His plans went wrong, so he got no further than a ranch halfway along the trail. In 1921 he searched for the mythical city down on the Atlantic coast, by train inland from Salvador da Bahia; but, hardly surprisingly, the miners there knew nothing.

In 1925, by now penniless but desperate, Fawcett tried again to reach the upper Xingu tribes. He now took two inexperienced ex-public schoolboys, his son Jack and Jack’s friend Raleigh Rimmel. The old surveyor made two suicidal pronouncements. One was that the trio should travel light, with nothing more than small packs. Everyone in Amazonia knew that you could not cut trails and keep your team fed with fewer than eight men. (I can confirm this, having done months of such cutting and carrying.) But Fawcett sent their pack animals and porters back, and continued with only his two novices. His other dictum was that Indians would look after them. This was equally dangerous. The Xingu tribes pride themselves on generosity; but they expect visitors to reciprocate. All expeditions in the past four decades had brought plenty of presents such as machetes, knives and beads. Fawcett had none. He committed other blunders that antagonised their hosts. So it was only a matter of days before they were all dead.

Twenty years later, Chief Comatsi of the Kalapalo tribe gave a very detailed account of Fawcett’s visit, reminding his assembled people of exactly how they had killed the unwelcome strangers. But the German anthropologist Max Schmidt, who was there in 1926, thought that they had plunged into the forests, got lost and starved to death; this was also the view of a missionary couple called Young who were on another Xingu headwater. The Brazilian Indian Service regretted that Fawcett, who was obsessively secretive, had not asked for their help in dealing with the Indians. They felt he was killed because of the harshness and lack of tact that all recognised in him.

Such was the sad tale of this incompetent, whose only skill was in surveying. But the disappearance of an English colonel while searching for a mythical ancient city in tropical rain forests was a media sensation. Two expeditions went to try to learn more. There was revived interest in the 1950s with the publication of Exploration Fawcett and the Kalapalo chief’s account of how they killed the Englishmen. Then it was forgotten until 2009 when David Grann, a talented writer, published The Lost City of Z. Unfortunately, Grann hyped the story out of all proportion and wrongly depicted Fawcett as a great explorer.

As he cheerfully admitted, Grann had no experience of rainforests. But he let his imagination run riot, with pages about ferocious piranhas, huge anacondas, electric eels (actually a fish that has never killed a man), frogs ‘with enough toxins to kill 100 people’, ‘predator’ pig-like peccary, ‘sauba ants that could reduce the men’s clothes to threads in a single night, ticks that attached like leeches (another scourge) and the red hairy chiggers that consumed human tissue. The cyanide-squirting millipedes. The parasitic worms that caused blindness…’ and so on. Everyone who know tropical forests, including me, knows that almost every word of this is nonsense.

Fawcett himself gave a simple account of his four surveying journeys for the Bolivian government. But for Grann, ‘in expedition after expedition… he explored thousands of square miles of the Amazon and helped redraw the map of South America’. Fawcett admitted that he was ‘a greenhorn in the jungle’ and knew nothing about nature. But Grann wrote that he moved ‘inch by inch through the jungle, tracing rivers and mountains, cataloguing exotic species… [until] he had explored as much of the region as anyone’.

For Grann, Fawcett was competing against other explorers ‘who were racing into the interior of South America’. The only study that Fawcett made after leaving school in 1886 was his RGS surveying course. He never mentioned any library research. But for Grann he was ‘almost unique’ in viewing 16th- and 17th-century chronicles ignored by other scholars; he re–evaluated El Dorado chronicles and consulted ‘archival records’ and ‘tribesmen’ in ‘piecing together his theory of Z’. Not a word of this was true, either.

Grann wrote that, as an author, he would have been lost without my three-volume, 2,100-page history of Brazilian Indians and five centuries of exploration. He quotes quite often from my books. So he had no excuse for describing Fawcett’s brief visits to three indigenous villages as the ‘discovery of so many previously unknown Indians’, from whom ‘he learned to speak myriad indigenous languages’, and adopted ‘herbal medicines and native methods of hunting [so that he] was better able to survive off the land’. Equally absurd was his rubbish about cannibalistic tribes, blow guns with poisoned darts, or Kuikuro menacing him with ‘gleaming spears flickering’ from the undergrowth (they never used spears, or had metal even, before their contact 130 years ago).

When the colonel vanished, Grann writes that ‘scores’ of explorers tried to find him, and that ‘one recent estimate put the death toll from these expeditions as high as 100.’ Actually, only one search expedition reached the Xingu, led by George Dyott in 1928. (It found that the three Englishmen had been killed by Indians.) The only other expedition was in 1932, but it got only as far as the Araguaia river far to the east. The death toll from these two attempts was zero. In 1935 a ridiculous actor called Albert de Winton went by himself to the Xingu and was killed by Indians who wanted his gun. So if we count him, the death toll is one — well short of Grann’s 100.

These and a great many other passages are artistic licence and hype of an absurd order. Hollywood believed everything Grann wrote, and then hyped it up more. People wishing to learn about the maverick colonel should consult his own fairly modest memoir — not the recent fantasy book and film about him. But I could recommend scores of writings by real explorers.

John Hemming is a Canadian explorer; the three volumes of his history of Brazilian Indians are Red Gold (1978), Amazon Frontier (1985) and Die If You Must (2004)

看完《绣春刀：修罗战场》的时候，我问导演路阳的第一个问题是：“为什么沈炼永远是备胎？”导演回答，因为他已经那么完美，他一定要有很多人生的遗憾，才会吸引我，如果他的感情再一帆风顺，就不是一个真实存在的人物了。 而在剧本创作阶段，路阳说，他从来没有考虑过其他的演...  (展开)

最近看了斯特雷奇和卡琳顿两个人的传记，重新再看这部经典文艺传记片，写了一篇八卦贴《卡琳顿的情史——生命中不能承受之纠结》。因为有很多插图，无法在此发表。
　　见日记：http://www.douban.com/note/256231071/

对于一个没有看过原著、对南派三叔也无感的路人来说，看这种片子大概是一种莫大的折磨。
       其实自从看过《盗墓笔记》电影版，就已经对南派三叔的讲故事能力大失所望，他也许是一个好的小说写手，但绝不是一个好的编剧，差太远。把剧本还给编剧吧！
       三叔，我又又又一次说，你已经走在郭敬明的路上，问题是你还没有人家帅，我怕你死得比他还快。

这篇影评可能有剧透 剧情有一滴滴老套，女主因为挚友突然去世生活看不到希望加上父母离异带来的双重压力选择加入海军陆战队逃避生活，然后遇到另一个挚友战犬瑞克斯，它的出现让女主的人生又重新鲜活起来。 然鹅由于一次爆炸袭击女主选择退役，想要收养瑞克斯却因为部队以及兽医的原因不得之，就在...  (展开)

这是一部被严重低估了的纪录片，就食物而言，已经尽可能的展示了食物本身的魅力，一餐早餐没有正餐繁复与正式，随意简单是早餐的主题，当然，节目本身也足够随意简单。抛去食物而言，看到的是数以亿计的勤劳中国人，他们安贫乐道，只求“仰足以事父母，俯足以畜妻子”。这种自...  (展开)