美丽男孩2018国语

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.

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 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."

上个月原著作者David和Nick父子来我司座谈，趁刚看完电影，来回忆一下内容。

Nick & David Sheffs 父子印象

当时看到Nick第一印象就觉得发型和甜茶好像，不知是巧合还是谁抄袭谁。不过Nick也打趣说甜茶的发型在加州理发店很火，进店理发都说来个Timothee hair，甚至还有Timothee peach（纯洁的我表示根本听不懂）。Nick本人给我感觉是姿态动作都是美国小伙那种耸肩挠头，说话手舞足蹈，要不是面部略显沧桑，还真让人有种20出头男孩的感觉。这点甜茶在电影里还真的模仿的惟妙惟肖。

David衣着随意，一头精干的短发，眼神矍铄，直到讲起话来，才让人感觉到他的作家身份。这点史蒂夫卡维尔在片中，无论是外表还是感觉，都反差挺大。David说当时知道Steve在试镜自己的角色时别提有多惊讶了，他们俩第一次坐下来聊的时候，Steve向David保证，自己不会像甜茶那样每天10小时粘着原著真人来模仿。所以Steve自成一派的表演也是对自己演技自信的一种体现吧。

David Sheff & Nick Sheff

父子俩谈观影体验

比起对于史蒂夫卡维尔饰演父亲的overwhelming，他们两位对于当时名不见经传的甜茶并没有表现得多么激动。后来甜茶开始shadow Nick, 学习他的一举一动，他俩关系就变得很好，有时还一起冲浪。直到后来看了《Call Me by Your Name》,Nick说他完全被甜茶演技征服了。

David说当时知道Felix要拍后，特意找出了《Broken Circle》来看，惊为天人。后来他们看到《Beautiful Boy》成片以后，也都很感动。他们接下来准备去校园里宣传这部电影，目的是让更多毒瘾青年认识到自己并不孤独，完全有希望走出来。

Nick谈戒毒

Nick说当时吸毒是因为用毒品来逃避现实，他觉得自己是孤独的，没有人能懂自己。后来他能走出来，也是因为发现自己并不孤单，但是自己也非常幸运，有一个这样支持自己的家庭。他们身边有很多人就这样没有走出来，而英年早逝。两位都谈了很多戒毒的心路历程，一度让笔者以为影片会着重描绘Nick如何和毒瘾抗争的，结果发现其实是另一个角度。这里就不细说了，大家有兴趣的话可以看电影。

其实一小时的座谈，聊了很多，但是因为已经过去了一个月，加上当时没有看过电影和原著，所以比较囫囵吞枣。这里只写了能回忆出的一些内容，如果有出入，还请担待。

值得一提的是，当时台下还坐了一排主创，其中有制片人Jeremy Kleiner，主持人说最近几年能想到的好片，几乎都有他的参与，估计是皮特的好搭档？（虽然我并不认识）。Jeremi坐在台下略显局促，跟我想象中好莱坞大制片张扬跋扈的形象完全不一样，甚至一度还眼泛泪光，估计是作为艺术工作者都情感过于丰富细腻吧。

为了那段欲到窒息的吻戏看，看了才发现是冰毒之后的高潮，瞬间毫无感觉。

好莱坞最深情最甜的爹 是当年《阳光小美女》里的gay uncle，最让人心疼的崽是一步一步注定万丈光芒的茶。

从《史蒂文森小姐》到《CMBYN》到这部《漂亮男孩》到《lady bird》到《小妇人》到《纽约的一个下雨天》到《沙丘》，我总打趣说我能看到同是infp的他的所有感性倾注和没有防御的脆弱。他是这样的体验派演员，他生来就一定会成为一个movie star.

故事插叙的乱七八糟，剪辑一片混乱完全是硬伤，叙事立足点完全没有打出来，于是父子再好的演员也无济于事。

我在想我的仔也是从小就被说是漂亮男孩，值得最好的父母的仔。可是我总是害怕我没有那么好，那么强力，在他未来需要抉择的时候帮助他选择看起来更多的那条路。甚至在他无助的时候我也会无助，我甚至没有办法在姨妈期间对他保持耐心。我的缺点会在他日后造成没办法纠正的影响… 想到这些我就很绝望。不要说他深陷毒品，他失恋我可能都没办法让自己以正确的角色和方式出现能帮到他。

作为父母的视角看孩子 一个所谓自己的作品 其实“充满了【盲点】。”你的视角 你爱他的不行。他的视角可能无助，害怕，丧失，毫无安全感。

说到这去看了漂亮男孩影评区的第一篇影评。作者：hugo蔷薇（来自豆瓣）来源：//movie.douban.com/review/9878272/

太牛逼了。无论是原著还是电影 真的是我见过看的最透彻的影评之一了。仔细看完作者所有的解析发现、我茶真的也是把角色吃透到烂了。天赋异禀。

这篇影评里有一段甜茶的获奖词如下：

【在此我引用甜茶在颁奖季的一则获奖发言，也是他对于参与这部电影的领悟，发出来分享给大家:

在成长的过程中，有一个瞬间，我意识到父母和周围其他成年人都是是普通的人。所谓人类，就是有着各种各样的弱点和缺点，这个发现对我的表演产生了最大的影响。但当我得知每个人都是脆弱的，都会受到伤害的时候，我感到了恐惧和失败。我的梦想是成为一名职业运动员。像勒布朗詹姆斯或莱昂内尔梅西这样的球员。我被无敌的人所吸引，而不是其他任何东西。然而，我看到自己在镜子里，意识到我不能像他们一样。除了太瘦弱之外，我不具备那样的才华（会议厅笑）。

我去了纽约的戏剧学校，我的叔叔，母亲，姐姐都去了。我开始有所改变。在我的生命中，我第一次坠入爱河，我感到前所未有的兴奋感，就像当初我想成为运动员一样，但这次我不是想成为超级英雄而是憧憬成为一个普通人。像希斯莱杰和瑞凡凤凰这样精致的艺术家，和不屈不挠的梅西和勒布朗同样具有吸引力。那些敢于展现脆弱的演员都使人着迷，我开始疯狂地学习他们的作品。真实的人物、真实的故事所揭露的人性真相是那样鼓舞人心，我希望总有一天得到认可的不再仅仅是那些赞颂人类不可战胜的作品，而是那些看到我们缺陷之美的作品。】

看到这我瞬间有点点释然

我们的路 他的路 总不能都被“过去”决定。

即使人生复杂，也总有机会走向还不错的方向。

以及永远要相信爱珍惜爱。是真的持久的爱而不是只是短暂出现的关心。

写到这真的好累。

存在的问题很多 碎片化的叙事 凌乱的剪辑故事线 完全没有情感交融的配乐 即便父子的演绎再出色动人 观众的情绪也被局限在了一个不断戒断复吸的循环往复里

除此之外 主角父子 两位母亲 两位小天使配角还是非常优秀的 个人的共情点也就是在Karen最终选择停车那里 那是父母终于意识到亲情已然无用的时刻 因为面对的已经不再是曾经看着他长大的漂亮男孩 只是一个沉溺药物不能自拔的junker

最后从甜茶迷妹角度评价 这次甜茶的角色挑战还是相当大的 在平日里的清醒状态 Nick可爱懂事 阳光开朗 爱写诗画画 然后就交到了个不忍直视的女朋友我真是..手动微笑再见了 针管推进皮肤过程里 他眼里属于曾经漂亮男孩的快乐和美好不见了 取而代之的是一种病态到极致的沉醉而不自知

最后一次在厕所隔间里的注射 俯拍视角里的他 清瘦的手臂已经伤痕累累 那时他的身体也已经到了极限 完成注射就好像完成了日常吃饭喝水的任务 他倒下的时候眼里已经没有了一丝一毫的光 也许正是因为这样 在最后一幕 靠在父亲身边见到了太阳的他 才会那么无助 而又令人心生希望

（甜茶真的好美好美啊 其实他一笑我就不是很care他在说什么了 所以说少年啊糟蹋自己的时候好好照照镜子你怎么舍得😭..）