日常生活：一個悠閒的沙灘，卻是黃昏……

〈男人四十〉整部電影帶出濃烈的生活質感，質感的豐厚的支撐在於場景的力量。電影開首的場景是一個悠閒的沙灘，中年男人林耀國拿著一本《萬曆十五年》，向兒子訴說和諧家庭背後的風暴般的故事。沙灘的意義在於參差對照的力量，表面看來悠閒，林耀國在平靜地讀書，誰也不知道他的內心的紛亂和激盪。然而沙灘的時間是黃昏，鏡頭(即導演)似乎出賣了角色：內心總從某些表象裡露出馬腳，與此同時把電影重要的主題：時間，帶出來。

整部《男人四十》都發生在最日常的空間裡：學校、細小的房子、公園、醫院等。可是最強烈的情感關係亦同樣在這表面上平平無奇的空間裡發生：胡彩藍(林嘉欣飾)表面是一個反叛的學生，卻有挑釁整個理性制度的力量，愛上國文老師(看似最僵化的科目)，自立開店，漠視大學魅惑，以輕鬆的姿態向主流意識形態說不。胡彩藍表演的，是一種女性力量，在學校裡、商場裡、公園裡，每一時刻佔著先機(相對林耀國)。一本畫滿老師咀臉的課本，可以拆掉天空。

但原來一切師生戀婚外情的出現，為了揭開一段傷感往事：林耀國的太太陳文靖(梅豔芳飾)，與自己最敬愛的盛老師(庹宗華飾)相戀，陳文靖未婚懷孕，盛老師不打算負責任，還是少年的林耀國成為陳文靖的唯一救助者，二人到深圳墮胎不遂，生下兒子安然，一切風浪過去了，隱沒在房子裡、書架裡、床子下，卻沒有消失的可能：反過來說，正因為日常生活空間具有相當的隱藏性，愈是隱藏，那反彈的力量更大。整個和平的城市永遠在移動。

於是《男人四十》中的日常生活空間有新的意義。日常的場景，是「時間淡化一切」這句美言的具體化(與此同時打破它)，每天瑣碎的細節：上班、下班、買餸、吃飯……日子一天一天地過去，彷似真的可以忘記一切。當陳文靖向兒子安然說出故事的下半場，日常生活場景的功能立刻變成為失效的止痛劑：陳文靖在暗暗的廚房，埋藏不了一股清晰的聲音──她記憶猶新。日常生活的埋藏之力，完全被推翻。

林耀國的位置轉換

林耀國處於男性的位置，在整部電影中表現無力：總是受事者，他無法知道胡彩藍和陳文靖的內心，亦只能跟隨著陳胡二人的反應生活。他與胡彩藍發展一段出軌戀情的時候，把胡彩藍視為一個障礙，並以「越過障礙」獲得主體性幻覺。與此同時他與胡彩藍的師生戀，實際上是把自己當成陳文靖，具復仇意味地強行與陳文靖交換位置。到頭來他當然失敗：發現自己根本不想越過這重障礙，他知道自己的屬性正是安份地飄流：《前赤壁賦》的重點之一；因此電影最後部分他清楚冷靜地向陳文靖提出離婚：反過來在這一刻獲得了主體性。

前赤壁賦：吟詩的聲音

電影的傷感之處在於，即使個人的力量如何強橫、一生的故事是如何風起雲湧，面對生死，我們也只能退回日常生活之中。但《男人四十》最後向觀眾提出的，是吟詩的聲音的可貴。結局一段林耀國一家在盛老師病危的床前一同唸著《前赤壁賦》，吟詩的聲音成為了想像的共同體：《前赤壁賦》的最重要觀念在於以豁達消解永恒與一時的矛盾──我們總會離開世界，而世界卻不停流動。而詩文，正超越了時間撼動人心。而唸的重要性在於：把感覺轉化成聲音，再流動別人的內心，把孤獨的閱讀變成一種流動的互通。這亦是導演對於國文的執著與癡迷，把生活詩化的一個過程。

关于这样一部网络喜剧，摆出主演的名字，大家就知道是怎样一种效果。
刚刚在新一期欢乐喜剧人夺冠的小沈阳，经常出现在他身边青出于蓝胜于蓝的“贱妃”文松；地球人都知道的尼古拉斯赵四-刘小光；还有乡村爱情中的保安队长宋晓峰；宋小宝身边的金牌绿叶小超越，颜值很高的唐娜和武力值很高的张笑菲。
东北喜剧的半壁江山，一众大咖组团作妖，这个乐子大了。每一个都是家喻户晓，都有自己的搞笑绝活，只要一出场，观众就会捂不住的想笑。他们去年已经证明了实力，主演的上一部《山炮进城》在网上热播至今，据说一共破了网络大电影的12项票房纪录。今年，《山炮进城2》如法炮制，华丽升级，依然是笑料大爆炸。唯一的遗憾是只能小屏看，没有大银幕版，不能买张票进电影院去支持东北喜剧，好吧，我欠你们一张电影票，将来再还。
对于上网看喜剧的观众来说，《山炮进城2》是一定必看的，喜欢也是必然的，那么，新的一集发生了什么故事，有哪些亮点呢？今天不聊这个，毕竟是萝卜青菜各有所爱，有人喜欢黑色荒诞的讽刺，有人喜欢出其不意的机智笑料，有人喜欢朴实风格里藏着的荤段子，无忌屎尿屁的狂狷不羁，满身都是技能和个性的明星。
如果非要描述一下的话，那就是集合了东北喜剧应有的所有笑料，赵四大闹寡妇店、双贱贱逼供史蒂芬、有亮被小菲家暴上公交车上被殴、小沈阳总截夜店寻欢不差钱、大海收到巨额遗产成为糗态百出的大土豪、四大山炮救“爹”变身游戏战士、史蒂花扮李小龙很黄很暴力。总之就是90分钟任性爆笑，嬉笑怒骂中带着小人物的艰辛与无奈，就像把十部小沈阳和赵四主演的小品串成了一整个故事，过瘾。
作为一部网络大电影，尽管是网大，《山炮进城2》还是体现了电影的规范和水准，有主题和架构有情节，也有情怀，表现得相当完整，而不是一部凑份子拼场子应付之作。其实东北喜剧一向都是以情怀至胜，赵山本的小品王名号是凭着真挚的底层情怀打拼出来的，现在的宋小宝也是一样。别说山炮没文化，山炮最懂人情世故，孝老爱幼，扶助弱小，情义最单纯，山炮只是不讲大道理，而是把最端正的世界观以最朴实的方式展现出来。
上一部讲的是二英、大海、有亮、菲哥怀着对都市的向往来到北京，在一通奇情巧遇之后，发现外面的世界并不如想象中那么精彩，生存的艰难，人心的险恶，这一部的故事更加曲折离奇，都市怪象，异彩纷呈，就像透过哈哈镜看世界，笑过之后，也不由的感叹我们身处的这个世界，已经人心不古，唯有坚守一颗平常心，莫以山炮为耻，莫以都虚华为荣，才是真正的你自己。这也是《山炮进城》的初心所在。

1967年获台湾第六届金马奖优等剧情片奖、最佳编剧奖。

这部片子拍摄时间在《大醉侠》以后，在《侠女》《迎春阁之风波》《忠烈图》《空山灵雨》之前，画面没有《大醉侠》那种江南的秀丽，没有了郑佩佩的灵气，但是多了西北的阳气和风沙，霸气，鼓点和节奏加强了，那种带着日式的武侠的味道，一下一下剑来刀往的利落，不愧为邵氏武侠的鼻祖。

刚看第一集，还以为是多老的片子呢，结果一搜今年的剧，演员都是老演员，看着前两集的真挺尴尬的，不过剧情还是挺有意思的，就是演员太老了还要去演小青年，长得年轻也无所谓啊，关键是看着真出戏，才看了两集，小红应该是女主吧，可是那脸太不自然了，说话，笑，都不自然，大为的演员艳的还是不错的，至少看着像那么回事，人家说演技不够颜值来凑，可是一部剧没颜值总要演技在线吧，女主真是不自然，其他的一些老演员还不错，总之故事应该不错吧，还好剧情加分，不然真没法看下去啊，期待后面的剧情能加分吧

 2015是表姐不太好的一年 「Hunger Game」连续两部口碑票房低于预期 年末再来这部不怎么样的冲奥片
 在上部「American Hustle」把群戏玩到了山穷水尽之后 投机大湿David先生试图告诉影迷和评论家 哥不止会玩群戏 还会玩独角戏 哥不仅能把演员变成神经病 还能把演员变成精神病 在这部戏里他只做到了后者 大量的精分场景无序地穿插进主线剧情 试图展示一个女强人的内心世界 例如什么少女梦想 纯洁初恋 老一辈女权blahblahblah 毫无预兆的回忆杀既没有铺垫也没有收尾 让本来就很温吞的戏剧冲突龟缩得更厉害 和表姐合作的第三次依然让她扮演了一个超出自己年龄和经历很多的劳动妇女 企图靠这种戏里戏外的话题性把电影的热度带起来 事不过三 惨败 表姐之外的所有人 已经扁平到“逼太紧”一个风格 所以我也无法理解这部戏为什么还要动用这么多的演员 还要一群人围一屋不停地磋商唠嗑 「The Fighter」里有两股人马的对垒骂街「Silver Linings」尚有一对情侣的对手戏 再不济的「American Hustle」还有正邪交锋骗你骗我 这部戏我只看见为了制造戏剧冲突招之则来挥之则去的一群傀儡 如此好拍讨好的一个题材被自作聪明的导演搞到了这个境地也真的劝David去冷静几年 值得一提的是Jennifer的表演 虽然谈不上她的个人最佳 但在戏约如此紧密的情况下她依然把角色吃的很透 每场戏里超龄的老练 像一把抽屉一样到什么戏就拿出什么表演的戏剧敏锐度不得不让人佩服 在David给的三个角色里 她能完美区别每个角色的细致差别演出不同也很厉害 本来很纳闷这么差的一个片子怎么还能提女主 看完也就平静了

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)

我们常说，戏如人生，人生如戏，大慨很多科班出身的明星，也未必就能演绎出49岁秦勇大起大落的人生。昔日辉煌的摇滚歌手，今天的代驾司机，秦勇用自己的鲜活人生诠释出电影《落入尘埃》的精彩斑斓。真正的爱，不是辉煌时的掌声雷动，而是低谷时的安心陪伴，有你，落寞英雄不孤独。

摇滚老炮儿秦勇主演的电影《走出尘埃》今日首映，现场秦勇不仅讲述了自己的大荧幕首秀，同样也用颇为真实的性格让人看到他对音乐的执着和对家的眷顾。众所周知，秦勇1994年加入黑豹乐队担任主唱，1996年先后参与录制黑豹乐队专辑《无是无非》和《不能让我的烦恼没机会表白》，成为内地流行音乐颇有人气的一个组合，并且也捍卫了摇滚在内地歌坛的地位。但是，令人意想不到的是，2005年为了照顾儿子而退出黑豹乐队，随后再也没有了他的消息。一直到11年后，也就是2006年推出个人单曲《远航》，再次让人感受到时光和岁月在这位摇滚歌手刻画出来的沧桑味道，音乐一直在，他也在悄悄改变。2014年2月携子参加中央电视台《出彩中国人》节目，大珍珠让亿万观众泪奔，而秦勇对于儿子的爱，也成为了观众最为美好的记忆。

《走出尘埃》是一部颇有热血的电影，通过音乐，通过做音乐的人，把现实与理想进行有力的碰撞，让人看到了音乐人的不同追求，有年轻人的执着，有过气音乐人的妥协与苟且，当然也有傲娇一般的乐队主唱不敢触碰却又不得不提及的梦想和未来。影片里，没有用孩子，而是采用了一个身患阿尔茨海默病的母亲，这一点，颇为令人感动，因为从秦勇携子上了央视的节目之后，很少能够看到他带儿子出现，原因很简单，他想让儿子过自己最单纯而又朴实的生活。而这一部能够出来演戏，也是因为儿子特别想演戏，为了儿子，他勇敢的先迈出来这一步，只想为儿找个机会。这种最真诚的细腻心思，和他的人生一样，真实而又发自内心，所以他在演戏的时候，人生虽有跌宕起伏，但一个转身，一个回头，一个眼神，都能淋漓尽致的表现出戏中方和平的人物魅力。

现实需要解决问题，音乐也一样，不能脱离现实存在。当秦勇拿起吉他，在楼顶上唱起那首经典的《虎口脱险》之时，让人觉得浑身都是冷的，这是只有丰富人生阅历才能唱出来的声音，每一句都刻骨铭心。而戏外，则同样在讲述着一个故事，这个故事，老狼在《我是歌手》第四季里就讲过，也在第十二期突围赛中演唱过该歌曲，并获得当期的第三名，突围成功。《走出尘埃》的插曲之所以也选择这首歌，也是如此，为了这首歌的填词、谱曲人郁冬。选择了一首歌曲都如此用心，这么充满故事，你看了就会明白，这部电影所要表达的情感，就是能够不经意间让人感动，而这种感动，也都是发自肺腑的。

影片的叙事结构非常的简单，一个中年男人面对家庭、事业、爱情的各种矛盾与纠结。画面很暖，故事仿佛就在我们的身边，亲和力十足。这也是独立制片人谢晓东首次执导的影片，谢导曾经编写与制作《一年到头》《我是植物人》《大明劫》等多部影片，并获得业内外的一致认可，这一次，面对一个摇滚歌手的人生抉择，同样也让人看到了手法的独道与用心。

有人说，现实赋予你的每一次劫难都是财富，看你如何去面对这样的现实而进行理性的思考。49岁秦勇笑看这世界，让我们看到了一个有着辉煌经历的摇滚歌手被磨砺之后的现实生活，颇为催泪，也让人很受启迪。说他是落入尘埃的英雄，不如说，他是在凡间修炼的男神。