Voice 1 (male "professional announcer" type): This neighborhood(1) was made for the wretched dignity of the petty bourgeoisie, for respectable occupations and intellectual tourism. The sedentary population of the upper floors was sheltered from the influences of the street. This neighborhood has remained the same. It was the strange setting of our story, where a systematic questioning of all the diversions and works of a society, a total critique of its idea of happiness, was expressed in acts.
These people also scorned "subjective profundity". They were interested in nothing but an adequate and concrete expression of themselves.
Voice 2 (Debord, monotone): Human beings are not fully conscious of their real life - usually groping in the dark; overwhelmed by the consequences of their acts; at every moment groups and individuals find themselves confronted with results they have not wished.
Voice 1: They said that oblivion was their ruling passion. They wanted to reinvent everything each day; to become the masters and possessors of their own lives.
Just as one does not judge a man according to the conception he has of himself, one cannot judge such periods of transition according to their own consciousness; on the contrary, one must explain the consciousness through the contradictions of material life, through the conflict between social conditions and the forces of social production.
The progress achieved in the domination of nature was not yet matched by a corresponding liberation of everyday life. Youth passed away among the various controls of resignation.
Our camera has captured for you a few aspects of a provisional microsociety.
The knowledge of empirical facts remains abstract and superficial as long as it is not concretized by its integration into the whole "” which alone permits the supersession of partial and abstract problems so as to arrive at their concrete essence, and implicitly at their meaning.
This group was on the margins of the economy. It tended toward a role of pure consumption, and first of all the free consumption of its time. It thus found itself directly engaged in qualitative variations of everyday life but deprived of any means to intervene in them.
The group ranged over a very small area. The same times brought them back to the same places. No one went to bed early. Discussion on the meaning of all this continued...
Voice 2: "Our life is a journey "” In the winter and the night. "” We seek our passage..."�
Voice 1: The abandoned literature nevertheless exerted a delaying action on new affective formulations.
Voice 2: There was the fatigue and the cold of the morning in this much-traversed labyrinth, like an enigma that we had to resolve. It was a looking-glass reality through which we had to discover the potential richness of reality.
On the bank of the river evening began once again; and caresses; and the importance of a world without importance. Just as the eyes have a blurred vision of many things and can see only one clearly, so the will can strive only incompletely toward diverse objects and can completely love only one at a time.
Voice 3 (young girl): No one counted on the future. It would never be possible to be together later, or anywhere else. There would never be a greater freedom.
Voice 1: The refusal of time and of growing old automatically limited encounters in this narrow, contingent zone, where what was lacking was felt as irreparable. The extreme precariousness of the means of getting by without working was at the root of this impatience which made excesses necessary and breaks definitive.
Voice 2: One never really contests an organization of existence without contesting all of that organization's forms of language.
Voice 1: When freedom is practiced in a closed circle, it fades into a dream, becomes a mere representation of itself. The ambiance of play is by nature unstable. At any moment "ordinary life"� can prevail once again. The geographical limitation of play is even more striking than its temporal limitation. Any game takes place within the contours of its spatial domain. Around the neighborhood, around its fleeting and threatened immobility, stretched a half-known city where people met only by chance, losing their way forever.
The girls who found their way there, because they were legally under the control of their families until the age of eighteen, were often recaptured by the defenders of that detestable institution. They were generally confined under the guard of those creatures who among all the bad products of a bad society are the most ugly and repugnant: nuns.
What usually makes documentaries so easy to understand is the arbitrary limitation of their subject matter. They describe the atomization of social functions and the isolation of their products. One can, in contrast, envisage the entire complexity of a moment which is not resolved into a work, a moment whose movement indissolubly contains facts and values and whose meaning does not yet appear. The subject matter of the documentary would then be this confused totality.
Voice 2: The era had arrived at a level of knowledge and technical means that made possible, and increasingly necessary, a direct construction of all aspects of a liberated affective and practical existence. The appearance of these superior means of action, still unused because of the delays in the project of liquidating the commodity economy, had already condemned aesthetic activity, whose ambitions and powers were both outdated. The decay of art and of all the values of former mores had formed our sociological background. The ruling class's monopoly over the instruments we needed to control in order to realize the collective art of our time had excluded us from a cultural production officially devoted to illustrating and repeating the past. An art film on this generation can only be a film on its absence of real creations.
Everyone unthinkingly followed the paths learned once and for all, to their work and their home, to their predictable future. For them duty had already become a habit, and habit a duty. They did not see the deficiency of their city. They thought the deficiency of their life was natural. We wanted to break out of this conditioning, in quest of another use of the urban landscape, in quest of new passions. The atmosphere of a few places gave us intimations of the future powers of an architecture it would be necessary to create to be the support and framework for less mediocre games. We could expect nothing of anything we had not ourselves altered. The urban environment proclaimed the orders and tastes of the ruling society just as violently as the newspapers. It is man who makes the unity of the world, but man has extended himself everywhere. People can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is alive. There were obstacles everywhere. There was a cohesion in the obstacles of all types. They maintained the coherent reign of poverty. Everything being connected, it was necessary to change everything by a unitary struggle, or nothing. It was necessary to link up with the masses, but we were surrounded by sleep.
Voice 3: The dictatorship of the proletariat is a desperate struggle, bloody and bloodless, violent and peaceful, military and economic, educational and administrative, against the forces and traditions of the old world.
Voice 1: In this country it is once again the men of order who have rebelled. They have reinforced their power. They have been able to aggravate the grotesqueness of the ruling conditions according to their will. They have embellished their system with the funereal ceremonies of the past.
Voice 2: Years, like a single instant prolonged to this point, come to an end.
Voice 1: What was directly lived reappears frozen in the distance, fit into the tastes and illusions of an era, carried away with it.
Voice 2: The appearance of events that we have not made, that others have made against us, now obliges us to be aware of the passage of time, its results, the transformation of our own desires into events. What differentiates the past from the present is precisely its out-of-reach objectivity; there is no more should-be; being is so consumed that it has ceased to exist. The details are already lost in the dust of time. Who was afraid of life, afraid of the night, afraid of being taken, afraid of being kept?
Voice 3: What should be abolished continues, and we continue to wear away with it. We are engulfed. We are separated. The years pass and we haven't changed anything.
Voice 2: Once again morning in the same streets. Once again the fatigue of so many similarly passed nights. It is a walk that has lasted a long time.
Voice 1: Really hard to drink more.
Voice 2: Of course one might make a film of it. But even if such a film succeeds in being as fundamentally disconnected and unsatisfying as the reality it deals with, it will never be more than a re-creation "” poor and false like this botched traveling shot.
Voice 3: There are now people who pride themselves on being authors of films, as others were authors of novels. They are even more backward than the novelists because they are unaware of the decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time, ignorant of the end of the arts of passivity. They are praised for their sincerity since they dramatize, with more personal depth, the conventions of which their life consists. There is talk of the liberation of the cinema. But what does it matter to us if one more art is liberated through which Tom, Dick or Harry can joyously express their slavish sentiments? The only interesting venture is the liberation of everyday life, not only in the perspectives of history but for us and right away. This entails the withering away of alienated forms of communication. The cinema, too, has to be destroyed.
Voice 2: In the final analysis, stars are created by the need we have for them, and not by their talent or lack of talent or even by the film industry or advertising. Miserable need, dismal, anonymous life that would like to expand itself to the dimensions of cinema life. The imaginary life on the screen is the product of this real need. The star is the projection of this need.
The images of the advertisements during the intermissions are more suited than any others for evoking an intermission of life.
To really describe this era it would no doubt be necessary to show many other things. But what would be the point?
Better to grasp the totality of what has been done and what remains to be done than to add more ruins to the old world of the spectacle and of memories.
1. This film, which evokes the lettrist experiences at the origin of the situationist movement, opens with shots of the Paris district frequented by the lettrists in the early 1950s.
内劲好大的片子。武术有内家拳，这部属于电影里的“内家片”。故事发生在背影是一片洪荒的农场中，这里有个粗鲁邋遢的坏哥哥，善良内敛的好弟弟，以及焦虑酗酒的妻子和他娘娘腔的儿子。电影的大部分时间你并不知道电影到底要表达什么，但你能感觉到线索在犬山、木屋、公牛、河流、马鞍、皮绳、标炭疽等种种的意象中暗涌向陌路。片中男女间的偏见和敌视也代指着文明和蛮荒的冲突，而到头来我们才发现，杀人不见血的文明葬送了善良的野蛮。
千万别对后辈爹味十足，他正是暗中对着你吐信子的小毒蛇。
电影不动声色地展现了“阳刚”如何驯化压迫着男性，又如何被“阴柔”反击折杀。蛇蝎美少年，利用“皮绳上的魂”，兵不血刃。被谋害的菲尔是令人同情的，不仅仅是因为卷福滤镜，更在于他本身是男子气概的牺牲品。感性地说，爱才是杀人不见血的利器。“这么多年的痴心，终究是错付了。”
谁会真的跟这种二傻子电影较劲呢，客观一点讲就是自恋且乏味。以后不会再看这类东西是它最大的好处。
Tiff2021。不错的character studies。演员们演得奇好，但感觉剧情上似乎差了一口气，卷福混蛋和mean都不够彻底，弟媳带来的小屁孩儿儿子又不够心理变态阴暗。要是两个角色再极端一点，一个psychobitch mommy dearest mean drama queen、另一个是青年汉尼拔风格的阴冷带微笑的变态虐待杀人狂，不知会不会对戏剧张力有所帮助，而且里面的homoeroticism也是点到为止。感觉简坎萍自≪圣烟≫后的作品越来越妥协安全缺乏玻璃刺了。还有题目与其叫犬之力，不如叫先前的中文标题≪犬山记≫，片中也有交代为什么是犬山 —— 张开狗牙的荒山也更锐利些。
叙事都不能用克制来形容了，是藏着掖着，但看到最后再转回来看看开头独白也就全然明白了。音乐起了极大作用，当隐藏的秘密和情绪无处释放的时候，音乐也没能让你放开，它不是舒缓的而是加重不安的情绪，这种小心翼翼的逐渐加深的吊着的感觉一直持续到phil最后躺在棺材里才彻底释放。实在很累。除了配乐，本尼的表演同样精彩，完全契合片子气质，Phil与所有人保持着若即若离的状态，疏离又孤独，佯装坚韧又脆弱真诚，演技出色又未跳脱出电影本身。 Peter接住了本尼的戏，印象深刻。 【同性的标签很影响观影，因为你会刻意去探索寻找片中同性元素，反而忽略掉真正精彩的部分，同性可以不在标签里直接显露，而在观影中逐渐揭秘和体会才是最佳。 】残酷从来都不是直来直去的刀下鲜血，而是隐藏的秘密悄无声息地曝尸荒野。
你看那座山像什么。看不出来我可不告诉你。看出来了你就是我的人了。缺的表演越认真我越想笑怎么回事，演得分明就是婆媳矛盾。剧情拐点呈现得极晚，如果往更早的时间点挪一挪，也许会更靠近类型片一些（以及更靠远奥斯卡一点）。普莱蒙-邓斯特这对现实夫妻是从冰血暴S2片场直接串过来的吧，签卡司提供打包价。
简导的女性视角让这个发生在狂野西部的故事非常细腻，同时也兼顾冷酷残忍的一面，暗流涌动直到最后一刻才让真相浮现，每个人都在自己的表象之下隐藏着真实的内在。当Peter说出犬山形状那一刻起，Phil真的把心交出去了，同时也把命交出去了。
LFF2021。整体架构是在的，但在细节的处理上根本看不到坎皮恩当年的原始而又有生命力的影像才气。高清数字摄影机拍摄下的这一切都“脏”得太干净、太假了。网飞调色精准得跟国家地理杂志似的。有无数场戏试图将角色的情绪与荒野自然交融，但呈现出来的效果很温吞，就心想这要是PTA或者李安或者多米尼克拍该多对味啊。大家中规中矩的演出让人怀疑是不是casting出了很大问题。
好流畅，已臻化境，这已经不是电影，是一缕香魂无断绝。视角找得好，人物也择取得好，这应该是依赖于原著的强大，简坎皮恩也表达得好，她的那种温柔优雅的对于权力对于性别的嘲笑，那种深刻的无比贴近的对于人物痛苦的感受，真是好厉害。看之前我没想到克斯汀邓斯特有如此厉害的戏份，她的表演冲击女主角都绰绰有余，是她对于这个角色的诠释，才好像成为了本片的一汪湖水，她折射了整个压抑的故事，沧桑与纷扰，绝望与不毁，都像光一样折射在这湖水里。
又是被网络账号哗众取宠毁坏感受的一部。实际上是难以预料情节本身，反而被导演精心编织的情感陷阱包围，最终意识到真正的话题内容所在，令人感叹这个构筑过程是多么合理。
平淡午后，僵硬的台词，半吊子文艺，不及格的西部，终是快进了
这明明是一个心机母子混入大宅门儿，全家人一个接一个神秘死亡的犯罪悬疑片的序幕啊，硬给抻成一部长片，给反派一个深柜恐同男性气概的设定，就可以政治正确地抨击男权，然后拿去哄评委混奖项了，但也太刻意，太生硬了……这几年三大奖的得奖片都已经一点儿意思也没有了，完全是创作者和评委们拿政治正确互相PUA，想说看看只入围没得奖的吧，敢情更差，一样的PUA手段，只不过做得太过，失手了，只能去拿奥斯卡😅。但卷福真心好，给加颗星吧。
很多镜头堪称恐怖电影了……对情绪以及没有言说的心理活动表达得很厉害。阳刚之气下的互害简直精彩……
好喜欢！整个电影拍得非常含蓄克制，看完当下会有点云里雾里，人物情感的交织繁复，而故事情节又很简单，走出电影院却让我回味无穷，回忆起一些细节，有点惊叹也有点怅然。电影的视听很出色，极好地渲染出了那种孤独压抑的氛围，这么美的电影是值得去电影院二刷的，在电脑上看Netflix对得起Jane Campion吗？Benedict Cumberbatch的演出相当精彩，人物性格刻画细腻，尤其一些细微的情感变化都拿捏得很好，张弛有度，私心我要给他今年的最佳男主了！
我觉得我看懂了，但好像又没看懂。但我可以肯定，这一定不是卷福表演生涯最佳。他的其它角色那么鲜活。
太绷着了，看不下去。个别场戏还是精彩的。至总督到访，Dunst拒绝弹钢琴处。
6/10。就像主角注视那片伏线深浅不一的群山时，捕获了犬形的雄性符码，又串联起隐秘的爱恋。夜深孤独时拨弄的吉他和浑身淤泥去河中洗澡的情欲宣泄，对菲尔而言像极了掏出来自慰的性器和自我羞辱的快感。在有毒的大男子主义占据绝对权力的牧场上，菲尔是这套秩序最顽固的维护者，聚餐时将手指插入手工花的花芯然后用于点香烟，讥讽和否定了彼得不够阳刚的手工爱好，更为了对体态臃肿、学历较浅的弟弟宣示权威性，言语上针对智力和外貌进行贬低，行为上二人共睡一张床以实施精神捆绑，如此过激的态度背后是对自身破绽暴露的焦虑，从彼得发现他收藏的男色杂志，到林中享受地嗅起印有恩师名字缩写的丝巾，以及野蛮地割掉雄马的睾丸，使劲印证自我的雄性能量，都呈现出主角从自己画地为牢的性向中挣脱的张力。但撑起张力的那种锐气，和犬山一样难被观众看到。
像Phi这样的人，他死去比活着幸福。
peter的身上集合了多种对立元素 一边折花 一边解剖 身型瘦弱单薄 语气坚定大胆 对爱的人无限宠溺 对恨的人龇牙必报 影片用镜头取代台本去解释结局 但没有水到渠成的效果 个人认为原因在于前半段泼墨描画了rose和phil之间的矛盾 对母子间的情份只是点到为止 好像炒菜时少放了半勺盐 如果能把儿子对母亲的保护欲表现得再频繁和明确一些 也许风味会更佳
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