read miscellaneous books in high school and found that many people like to use the inexplicable phrase "the unbearable lightness in life". I think it's amazing that these words are put together like this, but the source is unknown. When I was in college, I was salivating when I saw a bed full of poems and books by a senior student in the Chinese Department. I found this name, and I also knew a Czech named Milan Kundera, who was writing novels, movies, and books. Playing jazz, it looks like you can specialize in multiple skills. It was a really good read, even if it was a bit vague at the time. Just being hit by the words, it's like reading the first sentence of "One Hundred Years of Solitude" and becoming obsessed with García Márquez, rummaging through all the words he can find. Later, I searched all the bookshelves in the northern city, collected all the books of this Czech, and met a fellow student on the campus path, and debated with him why he liked or disliked Milan Kundera. I hadn't had a chance to see the movie at that time.
The feeling of watching "the unbearable lightness of being" with headphones in the gloom of the film studio at the film school is etched deep in my heart. Aside from the images, the feeling of focus is no different from the quality of sitting in a movie theater. Without making too many comparisons between the film and the novel, in fact, the film cannot carry such a heavy abstract philosophical meaning. It's like Eisenstein couldn't bring Das Kapital to the screen.
I have heard a lot of people criticize the movie for lacking the profound rhythm in the novel, and the traces of Hollywood's desire to conceal it are too strong. It's a little disappointing to see with my own eyes those mysterious and brilliant words and phrases turned into a popular love soap opera with political and philosophical meanings as a blurred background. Later, I gradually liked this popular love story, and I was fascinated by the music of Eastern European charm. Always watching Godard and Fellini, still a little tired. What does the movie depend on is to impress the viewers, either elegant or vulgar. Regardless of whether they are in the middle of the spring or Baixue, the desire for words such as love and happiness is the same. Thomas and Tereza, Tereza and Sabina, Thomas and Sabina, Sabina and Franz, Thomas and countless women, Tereza and the men they met... both in pairs or alone, Both struggle with love and lust.
Consciousness wanders between faithfulness and betrayal, introspection and confusion, and issues of lightness and weight always follow. There are confusions about the times and thinking beyond the times.
The soul watches silently above the body, but the body obeys the needs of the body. Hence Thomas' perpetual infidelity and Tereza's perpetual misery. Although Sabina also needs an emotional destination, she still chooses freedom and continues to betray. When all the heavy thinking is lost and lost, it becomes unbearable light in life, and at the same time still feels unbearable weight in life.
Jean-Claude Carrier, one of the screenwriters of "Love in Prague", has known Kundera since 1968, and should be able to extract the plot under the cover of words. The story isn't too bad.
When everything was oppressed, Thomas, whether he was standing beside the operating table with a sanctimonious appearance, or was banished to clean the glass, was looking for opportunities to have fun with all kinds of women. The self-control at this time is far less firm than the refusal to write a confession. Such firmness made his betrayal of Tereza seem less abhorrent.
Daniel Day-Lewis, with icy blue, almost transparent eyes, slyly debauched and melancholy, charismatically hunted for prey. In "The Age of Innocence", Lewis, with his face full of vicissitudes, sat alone under the lover's window, letting the curtains flutter in the wind, the window turned from opening to closing, got up and left silently. Another interpretation. It's a pity that the beautiful Isabelle Adjani did not enjoy the love of loyalty I. The real Lewis is just a little more restrained than Thomas.
Sabina always wears a black men's hat, maintaining her freedom and independence. I clearly remember Sabina saying: I am not against communism, I am against kitsch. We are all against kitsch, but kitsch is an inevitable part of human beings. No one can escape the inherent fate of human beings. We are forever living in paradox, always exploring unanswerable questions.
She burst into tears when she received a letter in Switzerland with the sad news for the Thomases. Ended the ambiguous but real touchable relationship between the three people. Another Chinese translation of the movie's name is "Heavy Floating Life", this is not a profound worldly floating life, but it is heavy because of such a world.
Tereza, always like a well-behaved, innocent and vulnerable deer, loves Thomas sadly and desperately. She said: Next time you go to those women, can you take me with you? I'll help you undress them. Hopeless at this point, Zhijiao sighed helplessly.
The beauty of Juliette Binoche is revealed here. Julie in "Blue" has been given too many heavy meanings. It does not belong to the mundane world and can only be viewed from a distance. Here Tereza, reading on the sunny grass and sliding like a fish in the swimming pool, are all pure and beautiful girls with flesh and blood in the world. Some people say that Binoche is like the first ice cream in spring. Her beauty is both natural beauty and like a meticulously designed complex device, on which the pendulum swings in an arc, with classical Europe on the left and Europe naked on the abyss on the right.
Trisha's love for Thomas was pure love and dependence at first. The accident awakened her inner strength. Desperate to take pictures of the muzzle of the Soviet army, she had grown up when she left Thomas alone.
Fortunately, the two of them finally had a time of no desire and no desire, the days of companionship with pet pigs and dogs in Taoyuan Wonderland.
Just like seeing Chen Xiaoxu as Lin Daiyu many years ago, I feel that Tereza seems to be Binoche.
The film has drawn a flood of bad reviews. Many critics lament the "absence" of the narrators who appear in the novels openly, and also discuss the "unadaptability" of Kundera's novels and whether literary narratives and cinematic narratives have the same identity. I remember a discussion on bbs. Most people sneered at movies adapted from literary works, thinking that it was difficult to convey the spirit of the novel.
When watching Schlondorf's "The Tin Drum", I only saw the surprise of Oscar in Gunter Glass' novel "The Tin Drum" without much discomfort. Since it is an adaptation, why must it follow an old road to black?
Then I happened to see "The Unbearable Lightness of Life: Film Adaptations from a Different Perspective" written by an American named Pa Katris. Pa Katris mentioned the concept of "cross-distance" in novels and films, that is, the transformation of the focal length in the narrative sense. Another concept, "zero-degree focal length", refers to indeterminate focus on a specific person. This is related to Genette's concept of distance, which refers to the metaphorical distance between the story and the reader (viewer). The more obvious the presence of the narrator, the greater the distance between the reader/viewer and the story. Compared with the two, the distance reflected in the novel is much larger than that in the film. Because the narrator is missing in the film. In the novel, the narrator who jumps out from time to time to narrate and discuss plays a great role in alienation.
In fact, in this article, the deepest impression is that he discusses the music of the film, the violin concerto in the "Fairy Tale: The Third Movement" of Czech composer Leos Janacek.
I have always been in love with Czech music, because of the singing and dancing of the Czech nation described in Kundera's novels, the sudden love in singing and dancing (in the novel "Joke"), and more importantly because of the Czech composer Smetana's "Voltava River" ", when I heard it suddenly, the amazing feeling was always unforgettable, so I began to search around and got lucky. Some concerts suddenly move you at a certain moment in your life, just as you didn't know you'd burst into tears listening to Sarasati's "Song of the Wanderer." Like encountering Milan Kundera's mythical "litost": the excruciating pain of a man's sudden insight into his own misery.
The day after reading the article, I bought a CD of the Janacek String Quartet on the way to the school gate, and I thought it was amazing. Later, I saw the article "Salute to Janacek" written by Li Wan. Music put on the cloak of the mundane, and the way of expression began to be mundane, which seems to be nothing to complain about. The times dictate.
The film uses the footage of Czech director Jan Nimek, which is the famous "Prague Spring" when the Soviet tanks (August 20 and 21, 1968) entered the city. Nimec was filming with Joseph Skvoragei a black plastic film about Prague, called "Prague Oratorio" (1968). The film also uses footage from Man Ray and Bill Brandy.
Czech New Wave film director Jalomir Gillis once adapted Milan Kundera's "The Joke" in 1968, but unfortunately I didn't have the chance to see it.
"The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past," Milan Kundera said in "Laughter and Forgetfulness." The worst thing is that this man is too smart and mean, like a wizard, always hits the nail on the head. Channel[v] on TV broadcasts Faye Wong's "Laughing and Forgetting Book" on a loop, and at a glance, you can tell that the lyricist saw the cover of "Laughing and Forgetting" about one day. Almost a complete petty bourgeoisie manual. The movie "The Unbearable Lightness of Life" that appeared 10 years ago was just "vulgarized" Just the forerunner. Maybe at this time, no one is willing to make it into something even more vulgar, because not many people pay attention to this kind of novel.
Milan Kundera said in "Laughing and Forgetting," "We write books because our children don't care at all. We turn to a world of anonymity because we talk to our wives because they don't listen. "
That year, for "The Unbearable Lightness of Life", I exchanged "Life Elsewhere" with others, and each of them was heartbroken. Later, the previous owner of the book carved a small stone for me as a permanent memorial. Pin it next to a slanted-mouthed Korean truant urchin painted on a red coat. People always ask me: what is written on it? Look carefully, then laugh out loud: Unbearable lightness in life? Too funny, right?
Then I laughed too. What can I do? I just feel that this little stone is in harmony with this child and this dress.
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