大河

看到很多说是深陷酗酒和赌博而死，我不大认同，说说我的观点：
       先说酗酒，很多喝酒镜头，但并没有出现过保罗醉酒的镜头。其次赌博，欠赌债，但完全没到要命的地步。首先，他有份正式工作（算是不错的工作，当地也小有名气），他是有偿还能力的，可以慢慢还。再从露露那角度来说，你会杀掉欠你钱的人吗？从露露来看应该是逼着对方还钱更重要吧，放贷的杀了借钱的找谁要钱去？剧中只是不让他参加赌局，他去了露露也没看有人追着要债。虽然说有喝酒赌博被杀的可能，但我觉得可能性不大。
        在我看来比较大的可能性应该是因为矿厂报导触犯了他人利益而被杀。
        首先，多次提到矿厂报导，提到报社老板接到威胁电话让他停止跟进，但似乎保罗不已为然，而且应该是一直在偷偷跟进。可能有人会问证据呢？剧中有几个细节：一个是，在酒吧喝酒时，杰西谈到这个话题的时候他明显回避，先是装没听清，诺曼还接话说“你一定要逼他吗？”但杰西还是想接着问，后面保罗直接说想跳舞打断了对话。二是，父亲有让他说新闻的习惯，没什么重要新闻，甚至连小新闻都少，不禁想那他天天在忙的是啥（诺曼多次找他，他都是在工作中）。三就是，最后一次找他的时他在赶稿，但不是在报社。他说是报社不适合工作，我觉得更多的可能是他不想让人知道他在跟进吧。
        如果说的确是矿厂报道触犯了某些人的利益的话，最后一个细节就比较吻合了。保罗是被枪托打死，后面父亲问还有没有其他的，诺曼说，手骨头全被打折了。写作的手吧！谁这么恨他，杀他前要先打折他的手。
       以上也算不得是什么分析，只算是个猜测吧，要搞清楚我觉得需要看看原著。

整体来说是个不错的文艺片，但是文艺性太浓了，在故事上就略显不足。从影片开始的几个镜头就能看出导演是想走抒情风，湍急的河水、雾绕山林、一双苍老的手在系着渔线，观众随着旁白叙述被带入主人公和保罗童年的回忆。他们的成长伴随着米苏拉和大河，父亲教他们钓鱼，在河流与渔线投掷的律动中，生命，宗教和艺术合并为一。

代表了“很多年之后”的表现手法是一堆泛黄的照片ppt，既巧妙又偷懒。镜头再转时诺曼和保罗已经是少年，冲浪打架展现出了少年意气和两兄弟不同的性格，然后又是时光流逝，诺曼考上达特茅斯，给了几个mv似的笼统镜头然后又跳到六年后——说实话我有点受不了这种风格，时间太跳跃了，剪辑也比较碎，让我这种文艺细胞低下的人抓不住重点。导演大概想表现的是一种情怀，把电影画面换成抒情散文一点也不会违和。

六年后诺曼从大学回来，他与弟弟的人生已经截然不同，诺曼成熟稳重爱学习，有望接父亲的班，保罗已经是个出色的钓手，性子自由不羁，喜欢美酒女人和赌博，对生活有种今朝有酒今朝醉的漫不经心，欠了一屁股债也不在乎。这个角色我倒非常喜欢，皮特年轻时真是又帅又有灵气，完全演出了保罗的飞扬洒脱，少年感十足，眼睛里面有光，最后一幕拿着大鱼冲相机傻笑的时候丝毫没有表演痕迹（但他说话吞字，我看的英文版不知是不是原音）。相比之下诺曼就逊色很多，他的角色定义除了当主人公外是啥我就没搞懂，感觉对事情永远不咸不淡的，要说长兄如父有责任心，为什么不从一开始知道弟弟好赌欠债时就劝他回头？片里诺曼每提起这个话题都是欲言又止，保罗拒绝了也就顺着他不说了，正常人都知道赌博是无底洞，当哥哥的难道不该多花点心思阻止吗？再不成至少得告诉家里人一起想办法啊，可他俩的爹妈好像直到保罗死都不知情，保罗性子固执拦不住是一回事，拦都不试着拦就是家人的失职了，不懂诺曼怎么想的。还有他和父母的相处模式也忒客气，尤其是从学校回来与父亲谈话那段，像是在面试，很奇怪。

诺曼和杰西的感情线也很莫名，既浪费了片长却又没怎么铺开，反而大半浪费在他那个废物大舅哥身上了，是想通过杰西兄妹提前点明“无论家人怎样我都爱”的主题精神？反正直到诺曼求婚我都不敢确定杰西是不是爱诺曼，她之前还差点为了她哥跟诺曼翻脸，那句“诺曼有趣／没趣”我也没听懂。保罗跟印第安女人的感情我倒能get到，性与荷尔蒙加上异域风情的吸引力，虽然低俗但比诺曼杰西那对磨磨叽叽的好多了。

最后父子三人钓鱼的一幕很感动，保罗的死没正面拍出来虽然有点无趣，但是作为表现手法能理解，要拍出来就俗了。只是这家人的喜怒哀乐都好淡定啊，儿子死了——还是这么惨的死法——不说哭天抢地好歹也掉几滴眼泪意思一下，总好过在那干坐着。结尾平淡中带着唏嘘，诺曼带着妻儿聆听父亲的讲座，不久后父亲过世，一语带过，多年后年近古稀的诺曼重归故里，像以前一样在河边放线钓鱼，山还是那山，水还是那水，但身边的故人都已经不在了，物是人非事事休。片子说真的没多精彩，胜在意境和情怀，抛开这些就是一普通的摄影不错的半纪录片，主人公的生平算不上有多跌宕起伏，保罗虽然快意随心，却逃不过烟花易冷。人生多歧路，同来不同归，到最后留下的也只有那一条大河，逝水东流不复回。

影片中出现的：

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home
Nothing can bring back the hour
Norman begins reciting some of the same lines by memory, and he and his father trade lines back and forth...

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
And they complete the last line in unison...
                     


                                --- William Wordsworth
"Ode：Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood".


全篇：

Ode
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
   
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
    The earth, and every common sight,
            To me did seem
    Apparell'd in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream. 5
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
        Turn wheresoe'er I may,
            By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
  
        The rainbow comes and goes, 10
        And lovely is the rose;
        The moon doth with delight
    Look round her when the heavens are bare;
        Waters on a starry night
        Are beautiful and fair; 15
    The sunshine is a glorious birth;
    But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.
  
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
    And while the young lambs bound 20
        As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
        And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; 25
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
        And all the earth is gay;
            Land and sea 30
    Give themselves up to jollity,
      And with the heart of May
    Doth every beast keep holiday;—
          Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 35
    Shepherd-boy!
  
Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
    Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
    My heart is at your festival, 40
      My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
        O evil day! if I were sullen
        While Earth herself is adorning,
            This sweet May-morning, 45
        And the children are culling
            On every side,
        In a thousand valleys far and wide,
        Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:— 50
        I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
        —But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
          The pansy at my feet 55
          Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
  
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 60
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,
          And cometh from afar:
        Not in entire forgetfulness,
        And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 65
        From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
        Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 70
        He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
      And by the vision splendid
      Is on his way attended; 75
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
  
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind, 80
        And no unworthy aim,
    The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her Inmate Man,
    Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came. 85
  
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes! 90
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
    A wedding or a festival,
    A mourning or a funeral; 95
        And this hath now his heart,
    And unto this he frames his song:
        Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
        But it will not be long 100
        Ere this be thrown aside,
        And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, 105
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
        As if his whole vocation
        Were endless imitation.
  
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
        Thy soul's immensity; 110
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
        Mighty prophet! Seer blest! 115
        On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a master o'er a slave, 120
A presence which is not to be put by;
          To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight
        Of day or the warm light,
A place of thought where we in waiting lie; 125
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? 130
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
  
        O joy! that in our embers
        Is something that doth live, 135
        That nature yet remembers
        What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest— 140
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
        Not for these I raise
        The song of thanks and praise; 145
    But for those obstinate questionings
    Of sense and outward things,
    Fallings from us, vanishings;
    Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized, 150
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
        But for those first affections,
        Those shadowy recollections,
      Which, be they what they may, 155
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
  Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, 160
            To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
            Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 165
    Hence in a season of calm weather
        Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
        Which brought us hither,
    Can in a moment travel thither, 170
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
  
Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
        And let the young lambs bound
        As to the tabor's sound! 175
We in thought will join your throng,
      Ye that pipe and ye that play,
      Ye that through your hearts to-day
      Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright 180
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
      We will grieve not, rather find
      Strength in what remains behind; 185
      In the primal sympathy
      Which having been must ever be;
      In the soothing thoughts that spring
      Out of human suffering;
      In the faith that looks through death, 190
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
  
And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight 195
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
            Is lovely yet; 200
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 205
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.


摘自网络。仅作记录。

美国的亲情片很多，《雨人》、《燃情岁月》、《克来默夫妇》。《继母》……
美国的关于钓鱼的亲情片也很多，《金色池塘》、《大鱼》……或许《Nemo》也算一个。
《大河恋》也是一个。

大河，是蒙大拿州特律河。 阳光透过树顶的缝隙，河面上跃动着细碎的金光，鱼线带着节律的抖动跳跃抛出，四溅的是细碎水珠的清凉。
父亲，母亲，两个儿子。
父亲，平静小镇的牧师和蝇钓高手。用心教导儿子们体验上帝所造大自然的规律。他说，“惟有掌握了上帝的节拍，我们才能重获力与美。一切的善--永恒的救赎也好，钓大鳟鱼也好--都是由神恩而来，神恩又是由艺术而来，而艺术是得之不易。”那么这个家庭，家庭中的每个成员的喜悦悲伤，生死，亦是神恩，是艺术，是得之不易。
哥哥Norman，细腻，温情，从小就懂得照顾弟弟。读书，教诗歌，当教授，认真地爱一个女子，结婚生子。生活有条不紊地循序渐进。他是遵守游戏规则的玩家，从中得到的结果也丰硕。
弟弟Paul，自由，不羁，倔强。当记者，酗酒，赌钱，交印第安女友。直至因赌债纠纷而死于非命。他是可以追逐一条鳟鱼直到激流里的孩子。是艺术品，不适合生活。
这样的父子三人，蝇钓，大河和上帝是彼此交叠的浓彩。大河一直一直流淌，不因为凡人的喜怒而停息。犹如神默默注视。
最终，所有的一切都会流入奔腾的大河，融为一体。

或许我们每个人都有Norman和Paul共同寄居在我们的魂灵里面。
一个平静保守一个自由激情。
那个激情的艺术的魂灵在青春刚刚过去的时候会像Paul那样死去。那个稳静规矩的Norman开始独居，开始做一些自认为对的事情，避免一些自认为错的事情。
然后在某个时刻,那个Norman会想起在少年时刻，Paul在小木船推下水的时刻望向自己的眼。那个时候，还敢不敢脱下外套，说，我去。
我们一直一直在同一条河流里钓鱼。直至暮年，颤颤巍巍的手抛出鱼线。

整个影片就是这条特律河。两个男孩成长的情节是河面上缓缓流动的阳光，父子三人钓鱼的情节是安稳坚实的河床，兄弟两人不同性格造成的命运冲突就是那激流里的礁石。这条家族之河写下的故事，就是那些人们所生活，人们所爱，人们所理解或者不理解的故事。

小的时候我也会经常同爸爸去钓鱼，我会看他如何的上鱼饵，看他如何的确定鱼已经上钩，我也会听他给我说“鱼在早上和傍晚才爱咬钩的话”。后来长大些了，我便自己去钓鱼，我可以静静的坐在河边一个下午，哪怕我一条鱼也没钓到，我喜欢坐在河边看太阳从东边出来，从西边落下。上了高中，大学，我就几乎没有在碰过鱼竿了，而现在，一年回家一次，和他们在一起也就呆上一个月，等我工作了见面的时间更少了。

“每个人一生中都有那么一次，向著所爱的人问同一句话：主啊！我们愿意帮忙。但是，帮什么忙呢？的确，我们无法帮助亲人。我们不知要献出自己的那一部分；然而，往往我们奉献出的部分，并不是对方所需的。因此，与我们生活在一起的亲人中，我们该知道谁会逃避我们；但是，我们仍会爱他们，完完全全地爱他们，却不需要完全地了解他们。” 这电影里父亲的最后一段话，作为孩子的我们或许很少能过真正了解我们的父母，而养育我们的父母也未必都能了解我们，但是我们还是可以完完全全的爱他们。

我痛恨那些在父母走后才能体验亲情的人们，这种虚伪的感情在父母的坟前就是虚假的，我们何不在他们还能感受幸福，享受儿女给他们带来的快乐的时候，多陪陪他们，散散步，聊聊天。而我这个离家很多年的孩子，在说出这些话的时候，真的有些惭愧，什么时候我才能让他们过上舒散的日子。

以上的话似乎和这个电影没什么关系，却也有些关系，毕竟是我在看完电影后想写点什么的时候写下来的。大河恋，恋大河，这条大河流过我们每一个人，带着我们曾经的美好，一直向前。