漂亮男孩

" Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you.

When I was a young man I felt that these things were dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite. I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman. I was living a hell in small rooms. I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass cursed. I challenged everything was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind.

Women were something to screw and rail at

I had no male friends. I changed jobs and cities. I hated hoildays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movie, Spiders, garbagemen, English accents, Spain, France, Italy, walnuts and color orange.

Algebra angered me. Opera sickened me.Charlie Chaplin was a fake. And flowers were for pansies.

Peace and happiness were to me signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind. But as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women, it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different from the others, I was the same.

They were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances.

The men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone.

Everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage.

The lie was the weapon, and the plot was empty. Darkness was the dictator.

Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark.

The less I needed, the better I felt.

Maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation or in mounting the body of some poor, drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never gobble down all its poisons. But there were parts, tenuous magic parts, open for the asking.

I reformulated. I don't know when-- date, time, all that-- but the change occured.

Something in the relaxed, smoothed out. I no longer had to prove that I was a man. I didn't have to prove anything.

I began to see things. Coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. Or a dog walking along a sidewalk. Or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there, really stopped there, with its body, its ears, its nose.

It was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself, and its eyes looked at me, and they were beautiful. Then it was gone.

I began to feel good. I began to feel good in the most situations, and there were plenty of those. Like say, the boss behind his desk.

He is going to have to fire me. I've missed too many days.He's dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses. He says, ' I am going to have to let you go.' 'It's all right, ' I tell him.

He must do what he must do. He has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend. I'm sorry for him. He's caught.

I walk out into the blazing sunshine. The whole day is mine, temporarily anyhow.

The whole world is at the throat of the world. Everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated. Everybody is despondent, disillusioned.

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness. I remember that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing, the works.

Don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself.

This is a shield and a sickness. The knife got near my throat again. I almost turned on the gas again.

But when the good moments arrived again, I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary.

I let them take me. I luxuriated in them. I bade them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly.

I now liked what I saw. Almost handsome . Yes, a bit ripped and ragged. Scars, lumps, odd turns. But all in all, not too bad.

Almost hadsome.

Better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

And finally I discovered real feelings for others, unheralded.

Like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving for the tracks, I saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there, covers pulled high, just the shape of her head there.

Not forgetting centuries of living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead, but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the Earth turning, the tote board waiting for me.

I saw the shape or my wife's head, she so still. I ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

I kissed her on forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seat belt, backed out the drive.

Feeling warm to the fingertips, dowm to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the house full and empty of people.

I saw the mailman, honked. He waved back at me."

应该没有人会看，但求生欲强，我先声明下，以下仅代表个人当时的所以所想，用了一些英文只是最近英文电影看多了，有点点英文的思维，用错了勿怪，我只是四级以下的水平。

另外，甜茶真的很帅，而且演技一绝，我看过好几部他的电影了，每个角色都是独立的，完全不会串戏，这点太牛批了

我还是最爱elio啊

——————

一边看豆瓣里的解释一边看的，怎么说捏，nic真的令人很心痛吧，像我这种平常人看到一个吸毒的只会认为他没救了，觉得他是咎由自取。

其实想了下，像我这种之前觉得酒精很好，喝了酒会high，会很兴奋，喜欢喝酒。然后终于有一次年会上喝了很多红酒，在酒店半夜趴在床上头痛欲穿之后，再也不想喝酒了。我会想，为了high一时，而后面自己这么痛苦，我宁愿不high了。确实哈，我平常生活富足，童年没什么大事件，家庭稳定且美满，现在bf对我非常好，公司和同事也不算没良心，有朋友可以交流，有家可归等等，纵使肯定会有生活的不愉快，但也可以go through。实在是不需要酒精去一时地麻痹自己，get high for a while。

所以看了这个第一次感受到：或许啊，有些人真的因为经历过某些事，心里有着巨大的空虚。这些事情真的不是因为他们做错了什么才，而且他根本没得选择的去server it。他真的不是咎由自取，他真的不是不想乐观向上。反过来他们是太想乐观、太想积极了，才会导致生病，得了抑郁症之类的心理疾病吧。生病了之后，自己没办法调节，就更加更加地低落，形成了一个负反馈、死循环了。

其实我曾经有一个好朋友，她也得了类似的病。她高考前在学校遭受校园暴力，高考后父母离异（就是有种你终于上大学的感觉，现在回想起来，想必离异前已经家庭破碎、经常争吵了），在大学时也过的不咋滴。像我这种他们身边的人，在看这电影之前其实是很难理解他们为什么会这样，为什么她就得病了，我会觉得我平常也会有难过啊，我自己也不是总是很开心啊。

在知道她得病之后，我真的很想对她好，同时不知道该怎么对她好。不想感动自己，我是真的想do something nice to her。我查了很多，知乎啊、豆瓣啊等等。看了很多电影，比如余文乐的那个、legal high男主角的那个等等，还是没有得到答案。仍然是无法理解，不知怎么样做才算是对她好。

其实我自己某些时候也会有某些时间段不开心到快要抑郁的状态，但最后由于我的家庭啊、还有things getting better等因素，拯救了我。我就以那时候，我自己快要抑郁的感觉去理解她。（但应该还是远远不够吧）

采用对待她的方法是当她像是平常人一样，她愿意说的时候，我尽量耐心聆听的那种。

最后，也就是现在，我还是失败了。她对我很失望，我们也绝交了，不再是朋友了。

但是，你知道吗，秋千，今天我好像又进一步了解你多了一点。祝福你，希望你身体健康，平安喜乐吧。我之前跟你说过，但你不相信的，你在我心里的位置永远是best friend，其他人都不及你。

唉，其实我也觉得绝交了也不是不好吧，我也只是一个普通人，我有我自己生活和烦恼，我没有办法把生活的重心放在你那，我可能真的不能帮到你什么吧。

回归电影，我真的不想生孩子，更别说是多个孩子了，我连家里两只猫的关系都没办法平衡、平等地处理，更别说人了。

Either peace or happiness,

let it enfold you

when I was a young man

I felt these things were

dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted

mind, a precarious

upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I

leered at the

sun.

I trusted no man and

especially no

woman.

I was living a hell in

small rooms, I broke

things, smashed things,

walked through glass,

cursed.

I challenged everything,

was continually being

evicted, jailed, in and

out of fights, in and out

of my mind.

women were something

to screw and rail

at, I had no male

friends,

I changed jobs and

cities, I hated holidays,

babies, history,

newspapers, museums,

grandmothers,

marriage, movies,

spiders, garbagemen,

english accents,spain,

france,italy,walnuts and

the color

orange.

algebra angred me,

opera sickened me,

charlie chaplin was a

fake

and flowers were for

pansies.

peace and happiness to me

were signs of

inferiority,

tenants of the weak

and

addled

mind.

but as I went on with

my alley fights,

my suicidal years,

my passage through

any number of

women-it gradually

began to occur to

me

that I wasn't different

from the

others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome

with hatred,

glossed over with petty

grievances,

the men I fought in

alleys had hearts of stone.

everybody was nudging,

inching, cheating for

some insignificant

advantage,

the lie was the

weapon and the

plot was

empty,

darkness was the

dictator.

cautiously, I allowed

myself to feel good

at times.

I found moments of

peace in cheap

rooms

just staring at the

knobs of some

dresser

or listening to the

rain in the

dark.

the less I needed

the better I

felt.

maybe the other life had worn me

down.

I no longer found

glamour

in topping somebody

in conversation.

or in mounting the

body of some poor

drunken female

whose life had

slipped away into

sorrow.

I could never accept

life as it was,

i could never gobble

down all its

poisons

but there were parts,

tenuous magic parts

open for the

asking.

I re formulated

I don't know when,

date, time, all

that

but the change

occurred.

something in me

relaxed, smoothed

out.

i no longer had to

prove that I was a

man,

I didn't have to prove

anything.

I began to see things:

coffee cups lined up

behind a counter in a

cafe.

or a dog walking along

a sidewalk.

or the way the mouse

on my dresser top

stopped there

with its body,

its ears,

its nose,

it was fixed,

a bit of life

caught within itself

and its eyes looked

at me

and they were

beautiful.

then- it was

gone.

I began to feel good,

I began to feel good

in the worst situations

and there were plenty

of those.

like say, the boss

behind his desk,

he is going to have

to fire me.

I've missed too many

days.

he is dressed in a

suit, necktie, glasses,

he says, 'I am going

to have to let you go'

'it's all right' I tell

him.

He must do what he

must do, he has a

wife, a house, children,

expenses, most probably

a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him

he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing

sunshine.

the whole day is

mine

temporarily,

anyhow.

(the whole world is at the

throat of the world,

everybody feels angry,

short-changed, cheated,

everybody is despondent,

disillusioned)

I welcomed shots of

peace, tattered shards of

happiness.

I embraced that stuff

like the hottest number,

like high heels, breasts,

singing,the

works.

(don't get me wrong,

there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism

that overlooks all

basic problems just for

the sake of

itself-

this is a shield and a

sickness.)

The knife got near my

throat again,

I almost turned on the

gas

again

but when the good

moments arrived

again

I didn't fight them off

like an alley

adversary.

I let them take me,

I luxuriated in them,

I made them welcome

home.

I even looked into

the mirror

once having thought

myself to be

ugly,

I now liked what

I saw, almost

handsome, yes,

a bit ripped and

ragged,

scares, lumps,

odd turns,

but all in all,

not too bad,

almost handsome,

better at least than

some of those movie

star faces

like the cheeks of

a baby's

butt.

and finally I discovered

real feelings of

others,

unheralded,

like lately,

like this morning,

as I was leaving,

for the track,

i saw my wife in bed,

just the

shape of

her head there

(not forgetting

centuries of the living

and the dead and

the dying,

the pyramids,

Mozart dead

but his music still

there in the

room, weeds growing,

the earth turning,

the tote board waiting for

me)

I saw the shape of my

wife's head,

she so still,

I ached for her life,

just being there

under the

covers.

I kissed her in the

forehead,

got down the stairway,

got outside,

got into my marvelous

car,

fixed the seatbelt,

backed out the

drive.

feeling warm to

the fingertips,

down to my

foot on the gas

pedal,

I entered the world

once

more,

drove down the

hill

past the houses

full and empty

of

people,

I saw the mailman,

honked,

he waved

back

at me.

（撸了生肉）

茶老师的演技真的太厉害 不得不说整个电影确实很乱很没有重点又冗长，bgm也 莫名其妙 但是茶老师的part真的让人看到心疼，literally心疼，把Nic的绝望和挣扎都表现的很真实，还有吸完毒的状态也拿捏的很到位 茶老师前途无量

—————————二刷分割线———————— •第一次看的时候感觉配乐简直是生硬到不可理喻，二刷反而觉得配乐有种戏谑的效果（比如David尝试病毒的时候以及歌词和剧情的对应）

•David口口声声说他想要understand Nic，但他想要了解的只是他想像的Nic（所谓的beautiful boy）

•David做了那么多的研究去了解毒品，但是却从来没有试着去了解他的儿子

•Nic有那么多次都向David发出了求救的信号但是David每次都迟钝到直接忽略这些，然后再把所有的事都怪在Nic身上，就像他是一个完全尽职尽责的家长。David确实像Nic所说的，有很强的控制欲，他一直去“努力”的很大原因也是出于他没能成功地掌控局面（掌控他的儿子）

•Nic太敏感了太脆弱了，他一直一直都想得到爸爸（家人）的爱和关心（"I want them to be proud of me."），一直都想要一个家一个safe place，David的新家庭对Nic来说并不是安慰而是刺激因为弟弟妹妹们的生活全是他不曾得到也不会再得到的，他也根本无法融入根本无法在任何地方找到归宿感（爸爸从来没有真正试着去理解他，房间被堆满杂物，"be invited"），所以他只能把自己藏起来，自己去填补他一直渴望但是又得不到的东西（因为没有能力改变现实所以干脆逃离现实）

•这部电影其实说仅仅是关于毒瘾也许不太准确，我觉得更多的是Nic的心理疾病（抑郁症甚至是躁郁症），家庭是诱因，吸毒是结果（茶老师说过why不是重点但是我觉得why才是真的重点）

•二刷之后看懂了很多，不知道真实世界里的Nic怎么样了，但是希望他是真的填补了自己心里的big black hole（虽然觉得很不可能……）

伴随着影片最后八分钟的落幕和音乐，我很想表达一下我对这部电影的喜爱！

首先，当我看到十分钟左右的时候，我就已经很怀疑豆瓣上的这个评分，看到后来我越来越不服气这个评分，我去IMDb上去搜了评分——7.3，要知道甜茶同样出演的《call me》在IMDb上也只有7.9的评分。因此，豆瓣上一些大V顶着流量的旗号，影响着一大批观影者的评判，当然不少时候我也是我刚刚说的那样，是一个被影响者。

电影的摄影构图绝对是精心的，我截了几张我很喜欢的图片。摄影一直保持着高水准的构图，有黄金分割，有中轴对称，整个画面一直都保持着很舒服的状态。

配乐是丰满的，虽然有几个片段显得故意了一点，honestly，但整部电影的配乐是让我融入情绪的重要配件。重金属摇滚和亲和钢琴，还有促进情绪的配乐，都很能借助音乐表达情绪。

再说剪辑手法，个人而言我很受用时空交叠的描述方式，因为当这样的手法是文字写在书上的时候，是会引起无尽的想象的。当然有一两个地方，这种剪辑用过了，造成了理解上的些些偏差。

很多童年片段的重演，是导演对人生前后的差别表达，也是剧情的一部分。

文学与艺术方面，诗歌的介入，摇滚乐的介入，小团体忏悔式的自述的介入，无不都在掀起一些列的情绪波澜，电影的价值是在无形中被赋予的。

很多人觉得这部电影，剧本太弱，甚至有说它是一部「禁毒宣传片」。我个人的感觉是，如果不去真的用情感带入，应该会很难理解情节上的反复重复；而且一再突出的「禁毒宣传」让他们情感上很难平静得去融入电影里。

剧本不弱，情感线更不弱！父子之间的感情线，从童年讲述起，一路贯穿成长。非要在这样的电影里讲述一个动人的感情故事吗？非要像寻亲那样悲鸣吗？父亲的信任变化与情感变化，是写实的；继母的情感也是真实的！

说起情感，难道，桌子上那封写给「漂亮男孩」的信，所要传递的，不够吗？冲浪的回忆对比，不够吗？写作在整部电影里出现的意义，与充满黑暗色彩的日记本，不够吗？不能够揭露内心吗？

说到写作，我很明白，一个擅长或忠于写作的人，是能够从写作中找到解脱的。这也是为什么电影总是在强调Nic需要写作，写作是一个人得到解脱，最廉价也最昂贵的方式，昂贵在很多人不愿意借助文字表达内心。

我喜欢这部电影！我觉得这个评分大家给的太低了！

我大胆猜测大家评分只有三星的主要原因是，大家不爱这个题材，觉得毒品电影就应该拍成《湄公河行动》？？？

甜茶主演的电影，没看简介来看以为是很平常的故事线进行。没想到是讲一个孩子吸毒反复挣扎无法逃离的故事，画面+音乐很是渲染人物心境和故事起伏这样。吸毒环境的压抑+看到父亲为了了解儿子吸毒而去尝试吸毒来感受毒品瞬间炸裂的愉快享受，不同时期画面的来回组接，有一种吸毒的现实与幻灭的切换，颠倒一般人的生活线。没有毒品短暂家人相聚的日子，以及吸毒逃离又联络父母的挣扎恐惧。家庭起初主要拍了主角尼克和父亲重组家庭继母和弟弟妹妹画面，因母亲住在美国另一座城市，后期母亲和父亲出现在一起陪伴尼克，看完是压抑的，父亲在起初就问他为什么要吸毒，尼克回答不出来。小时候尼克画面时不时切出，还很小到父母膝盖的孩子，假期坐飞机去妈妈家看着就很心疼的宝贝，眼里充噬着不安，可能从小伴随的不安与恐惧是长存的吧。以至于与亲情父母的交流接口也在无形中迷了方向，不知为何，答不上来。结尾先是字幕讲述美国毒品现状，和说要把它当作疾病来正视，并以一点数据来展现吸毒带给美国人民的巨大伤害。 在结尾字幕快出完，有一段独白，是尼克在学校里读过的一个诗人的一段话，写实而又并非可以用通俗字面理解，却通过尼克角色声音再一次把那段诗读完又有了许多赋予意义在里面。对了父亲是作家的身份，儿子尼克之前也在跟随兴趣写作（不得不说这是否是有遗传在里面呢），这部电影是根据书改编的，电影里父亲的名字是和书作者的名字一样，最后才意识到这可能是作者的自述与表达，面对儿子自己与毒品所经历的一切。（百度搜了下，是作者的回忆录改编～）