现在看不到周自己主演的电影了吧，虽然不特别喜欢他的演绎风格，但还挺怀念的。如果哪一天，他再主演一部，我一定还去贡献票房。
    这部鹿鼎记，也是恶搞的，与原著大不一样。不过，改编得让人不反感，反到看得很欢乐。除了经典了周式喜剧演绎外，剧中的女演员是其他版本没有的好看，每一个都是美女，真是养眼。
    有几段台词，很是暗黑，嘲讽得让人一惊。
    当年的大神们都老了，怀念当年的港片啊。

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)

一直觉得豆瓣小主们高贵冷艳的评分风格甚是难能可贵，尤其在对待有颜无脑剧情瞎闹的渣烂雷剧时，那种无论女主多么花容月貌男主如何丰神俊貌都阻挡不了小主们情真意切的从鼻孔里哼出一个“屎”字的.....艺术行为，真心是让纯颜狗的区区不才钦佩到潸然泪下啊。
   
    话说小女子虽也曾撸遍无数日韩英美剧哈遍无数不一样的美男子，自诩对于颜值的追求略有档次和高度，也曾一度对于咱大中华出土的黄教主表示不屑啊不屑。可是这次，尼玛我竟然奔着小明哥追完了这被删减得稀烂的分量达四十集的国产狗血狂洒不要钱大剧！最重要是！没！有！快！进！更不可思议的是，此刻我竟然在为它亲手敲打一份价值五颗星的影评！
 
     如此无可救药的行径，我只想说，小主们，请赐我一丈红！

    锦绣缘，谈剧情，这从开始就能分分钟猜出结局甚至连过程都毫不意外的情节，我只能说果然此剧符合总裁文的走向。但即便如此，这玛丽苏苏苏苏苏到圣母玛利亚光环自带的女主和有胸有胸有胸我有胸的男主还是让我忍了所有不能忍的设定一路看了下去。然后我惊讶的发现我找到了此剧不少的亮点。。。。。额，请务必收起我是爱到盲目所以看到盲点的反驳之音。
   
   首先，此剧的特效良心了。小主们，你闷可还记得那镜头转换间的大上海晨景，那时而飘点细雨时而阴云密布时而日光微澜的一幕幕，都是花了不止五毛的特效啊！虽然不能与国产良心的红色相提并论，也赢不了一贯财大气粗砸钱也要拍精品的山影出品，但这样一部与纯靠颜值的少年四大名捕同时粗线的国产剧，在当下一片石敢当五分钱特效都嫌多的氛围中，微微带着些许诚意粗线的锦绣缘，总归还算是不坑爹了。

   其次，此剧的少女粉红多且足。当年琼瑶剧hold住了多少长辈咱不说，只看几世纪前的安徒生大爷和格林兄弟，他们的那些个童话故事流传至今依然被广泛应用于祖国小花朵们的睡前故事中，且效用堪比牛奶糖果巧克力。足见，有些梦，不能停。前些时日回家看母亲，我妈一脸兴奋的跟我说有部电视剧特别好看，我好奇问是什么鬼，我妈说，不一样的美男子，然后星星眼状。我想，这件小事不仅说明我是我妈的女儿，更证明电视剧的主要观看群体...中国大妈....对于粉红剧的接受能力超出想象。当我们吐槽某些剧无脑的时候，请相信，总有神奇的别人在脑补着我们想象不到的美好画面，锦绣缘就是一个时刻需要脑补的粉红剧，一边是脸红心跳的煽情至死，一边是漏洞百出的起承转合。于是我们在千篇一律的桥段里得到永远无法满足的不满足感，又在花样百出的脑洞大开中寻求到最终的圆满。
  
  最后，国产剧有此水准就知足吧。说神马服化道拍摄手法光影捕捉都是浮云，咱们分分钟制作一部新剧的量产方式比不得英美剧一拍好几年的时间任性成本。宽容点讲，只要国产剧还没有渣成泰剧的德行，就算是粗制滥造到石敢当之流的地步，就技术而言，咱们的品质也还是高于不少第三世界国家的。其实中国制造的水准一贯都是在同一条水平线上下波动的，战长沙那是山影这种豪才拍得出的feel，红色那是导演编剧卖房卖车才换的来的效果，这些自然是上线峰值，但更多的是一部部刷着锐欧鸡尾酒拿着三九感冒药的广告版电视剧，这些才是正常的水平值，锦绣缘作为一部广告植入不放肆剧情走向不另类演员选择不乱来的安安静静的偶像剧，算不上明显偏上，但好歹略胜。

   当然，遮遮掩掩压轴出场的才是我追剧的最大原因。前面说的，都不过是狡辩。说白了，老娘就是奔着二爷的胸看的！掀桌，终于说实话了！！恩，强调一下，我看的不是脸，是胸！大伙说说，这消费男色的时代，咱们看了多少思密达的李敏镐金秀贤玄彬池城，又看了多少岛国的速水重道木村拓哉古川雄辉以及有着米国一片片拥有蓝色海洋般迷人眼睛的帅哥群，可是中国制造的男神，却一直止步于刘德华梁朝伟的香港巅峰时代，看看现在清一色流行的神马鱼塘主张翰呆萌李易峰，哦天~即便是黄教主，真心也就一般般。可是，哎呀呀，没想到啊没想到，黄教主竟然也意识到纯拼脸是不行的，不知不觉就练就了一副好身材。吾心甚慰。吾心甚慰啊。感谢毛主席解放了新时代，感谢邓小平让改革开放，感谢这个发展到男女平等不再是只能消费女色的时代，感谢这个终于投其所好投到女性心怀的男色时代。

  二爷，约吗？


PS：1..这太像脑残粉写的脑残文了，不过请原谅我实在不懂如何遣词造句把这样一部确实有脑残感觉的观影感受写成正儿八经的影评！
        2.事实证明，不费脑子的快乐也是快乐

     晚上，看了PPSTEAM上的《法内情》。结果泪如泉涌。我上一次看电影不自觉的掉泪是在小学，那次学校组织看了《妈妈再爱我一次》。《法内情》又可以叫做《妈妈爱我很多次》。

      这部年代久远的港片现在看来依然很不错，情节曲折，节奏快，正邪冲突被集中在方寸法庭中更加激烈。最值得称道的是叶德娴的演出，我看了介绍，王晶曾说过她是香港最好的女演员。她在影片中演一个低层老年妓女，备受欺凌，帮儿子送萝卜糕被狗追，帮儿子保守秘密被警察勒索，被勒索钱不够就去出老千，帮儿子联系证人被开水烫。。。。。，即便如此逆来顺受，但如果谁要对儿子不好，她就马上变成母狮子，在手上捆菜刀去砍人。虽然剧情比较凄惨，但叶德娴的对白和表情很多都挺有意思，笑中带泪，个性鲜明，塑造了一个过目难忘的经典形象。与她一样出色并类型相近的演员还有一位，就是萧芳芳。好多年前看了她在〈女人四十〉中的表演，至今都还记忆尤新。

       现在要我不会看刘德华的片子，我觉得即便〈无间道〉和〈天下无贼〉很喜欢，但刘德华在里面的表现也很一般，他现在演戏总脱不调偶像的外衣，太程式化，缺乏内容。但看他成为偶像前的片子，其实还是很不错的。比如在〈法内情〉中，当年的刘德华玉树临风，青春逼人，最关键演戏很棒，特别是在〈法内情〉结局篇，得悉妈妈住院手术在法庭泣不成声进行自辩的场景感人至深。

      总之，〈法内情〉五星推荐。

导演叶伟信在宣传电影时，无意中“刮”了票房毒药周董一巴掌。

在香港国际电影节的影视展中宣传时，他被记者问道：
原本盛传会加入李小龙角色，你也曾说有意找周杰伦演出...

可是叶伟信被问到此事，突然笑脸一收、脸色大变说：
“证明我很走运，他答应我就惨了！”

哈哈哈哈哈...
这次有心的“失口”太好笑了！
相信『艋舺』的钮导也是这么想的吧？

不过这件事让周杰伦所属的台湾杰威尔音乐公司知道，立刻发表了下面的意见：

周杰伦所属的台湾杰威尔音乐公司回应：“杰伦和公司并不认识这个导演，他说什么，我们都没有意见。”关于周杰伦会不会再接拍电影的问题，杰威尔音乐公司称：“电影当然会再接拍，《青蜂侠》在今年底上映，敬请期待！不过今年他的既定计划是新专辑和演唱会。”

怎么感觉上有点恼羞成怒呢？哈哈哈..

如果周杰伦有演出『叶问2』，你还会去支持吗？
我不会，我认为与他合作的人都有点倒霉。
碰什么死什么...

这篇影评可能有剧透 男主说女主的微笑就像一个投币点唱机。 他问她： -你喜欢安托万吗？他不幽默，对任何事都不感兴趣。 -我喜欢他的鼻子。 -我们有一样的鼻子。 -所以也许这就是原因了。 -你缺乏自尊。 -你缺乏道德。 然后俩人就一起逃跑了，在圣诞节的夜里。 想起了两小无猜和戏梦巴黎， 我喜欢...  (展开)