《夜魔侠》第三季的故事很梦境：夜魔侠刚逃出生天就被陷入牢笼，逃出牢笼又被打迷药针送进河中，逃出河水又差点被抓捕，溜走后又差点被邪恶版夜魔侠害得被抓，逃离后又被骗入给他做制服的铁笼……这个过程简直跟他妈的噩梦一样循环往复，夜魔侠就像进入了一个没法醒来的梦一样不断醒来和逃离。

编剧的思路也很精神分析，还没看到一半，我就感受到了编剧对精神分析治疗的狠狠讽刺，怎么讽刺呢？话分两头说，这个剧其实就是西方版本的“真假孙悟空”，编剧通过“真假夜魔侠”的命运对比，讽刺了精神分析的短期成功与长期失败：

先说夜魔侠，他是在教会孤儿院长大的孩子，灾难让他获得超能力，他在教父启示下把这看作上帝给他的使命，让他做上帝除恶的战士，他一路除恶，每次遇到心理问题都会找主教聊聊，虽然经历了上一季和女友一起被埋葬，以及这一季开头对上帝失去信仰，但他最终没有走向邪路。

再说对体人物邪恶版夜魔侠，他也是孤儿，从小接受精神分析师的治疗，最终变成带着好人面具的FBI警探，但是却被撒旦化身大反派一步一步诱导为恶人，成为夜魔侠的反面，他就像真假美猴王中的坏猴子一样，最终走向了邪恶。

这组对立人物，背后其实是编剧对精神分析的系统化的嘲讽，在他们看来，只有上帝、教士、修女才可以真正只好精神病人的内心，而精神分析仅仅是让病人建立了一个新的移情关系而已。我仔细想来，或许编剧就是对的，因为精神分析确实只做到了这个层面，即“分析和改变观念-建立新的移情关系和生活方式”的层面，更重要的信仰、使命、意义和价值守护方面依然是空洞的。自体心理学意识到了这个问题，说现代人的问题是虽然可以建立关系，但是依然觉得一切没有意义，依然丧失了生活的热情。

其实这是后现代精神分析面临的困境：荣格曾经指出了无意义的问题，科胡特提出了重建自体的解决无意义感方式。然而，心理学真的解决这个问题了吗？或者说真的解决了人的信仰问题了吗？或许有的治疗室觉得解决了，但是现实是并没有，就算是当代还活在的存在主义治疗大师欧文·亚隆也只能做到这些，他依然没有办法解决信仰和最高意义的问题。实际上心理咨询也不会承诺解决信仰问题，而只会处理关系移情问题。

追根溯源，这还是资本主义的一个老问题，正如德勒兹所说，精神分析与资本主义是一个配套的系统。要我说，精神分析就是资本主义的自体分析，本质上则是基督教文化的自体分析，因为资本主义是基督教的变体。故而，精神分析的谈话疗法依然要学习它的原型：基督教的“告解谈话”。但是，从治疗方式来比较，宗教治疗系统更为重要的其实是宗教组织和生活方式——基督教是一个从信仰、组织、生活三个层次，以及观念、情绪和仪式三个方面都进行治疗的系统，这个体系才是资本主义社会更古老、更全面、更有效的“治疗系统”。甚至可以说，基督教文化治疗系统就是精神分析的原型。

也因此，推而广之，要做好中国的精神分析，不如回到佛教的治疗系统、儒教的治疗体系或者道教的治疗方式。因为每一种文化在发展中，会遇到各自的群体或个人的心理问题，而同时也会发展出他们各自的心理治疗体系。

现在是一个全球被资本主义席卷的时代，可以说不论哪个文化都被不同程度资本主义化了，故而都面临各种相似的心理问题，即资本主义文化内核基督教的弑父娶母的俄狄浦斯情结问题，以及上帝死了的虚无主义问题。所以，各民族的精神分析当然要学好传统的基础，但也要继承本民族自身文化系统的治疗体系，这样才能发展出有特点的、有针对性的心理治疗创新技术和差异化的治疗系统。

看得出导演很努力在八面玲珑，编剧很努力在重温旧梦，演员很努力在煞有介事，Tom和Jerry很努力在大动干戈。但问题是，它不好笑啊！其他说啥都白搭。其实大银幕版的T&J三十年前就拍过，评价也很差，大概这种无脑暴力互殴的风格很难让观众保持一个半小时的注意力。或许这也是为什么主创想到与真人结合的形式，在豪华酒店里闹鼠灾也很合情合理。可惜影片经历了长达十年的开发地狱，最后的答卷终究流于肤浅、喧宾夺主、矫揉造作、不伦不类。从特纳到华纳，还是未能重现80年前米高梅的荣光（7获奥斯卡最佳短片）。看来不是每个IP都能复兴的。

clit2014, jan 2, 晚交了20天，我再也不想上gender studies了我要吐了，写这篇paper不知道经历了多少mental breakdown

Women’s Experience Matters: Redefining Feminist Cinema through Claire’s Camera

As Laura Mulvey points out in “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, traditional narrative cinema largely relies upon the practice of a gendered “gaze”, specifically, male’s unconscious objectification of female as erotic spectacle from which visual pleasure is derived. Her account draws attention to the prevailing feminist-unfriendly phenomena in contemporary cinema, one that resides in the language of patriarchy, privileging man’s experience while making woman the passive object deprived of autonomy. Many feminist filmmakers and theorists including Mulvey herself urge a radical strategy that dismantles patriarchal practice and frees woman from the state of being suppressed by the male-centered cinematic language.To conceptualize a mode of cinema that speakswoman’s language, or authentic feminist cinema, this essay interrogates the validity of Mulvey’s destruction approach in pursuing a feminist aesthetic. By making reference to Hong Sang-soo’s film, Claire’s Camera, I argue that feminist cinema needs to be redefined by neither the immediate rejection of gender hierarchy nor the postmodern notion of fluidity, but by perspectives that transcend the gendered metanarrative of subject vs. object, and that primarily represent and serve woman’s experience on both sides of the Camera.

Earlier waves of feminism strived to call attention to, if not, eliminate the unbalanced power relation between men and women in the society, namely the dichotomy between domination and submission, superiority and inferiority, and self and other (Lauretis 115). Feminists such as Mary Wollstonecraft and Simone de Beauvoir radically interrogated women’s rights in the political arena as well as women’s relative position to men in the society at large. However, the approaches of the earlier waves cannot prove themselves sufficient in pursuit of a female autonomy, owing to the fact that they are constantly caught in the power-oriented metalanguage which inherently privileges one over another. While it is argued that the objectification of the “second sex” is oppressive in nature, for example, the assertion already marks the subject-object dynamics between men and women by default. It fails to propose non-power based gender narratives, while obliquely acknowledging that the language spoken in this context is inevitably characterized by phallocentric symbols, ones that prioritize self over other, subject over object, male over female. In thisregard, rather than rendering a perspective that exposes and dismantles patriarchy, the outcome of earlier feminist approaches inclines towards “replicating male ideology” (Mackinnon 59), reifying the omnipresence of the patriarchal language and reproducing the effects of patriarchy.

A similar notion applies to defining feminist cinema. In terms of visual representation, feminist idealists encourage women to present their bodily spectacles, inviting interpretations free of erotic objectification. Despite the favorable receptions from the sex-positive side of the discourse, it is indiscernible as to whether these attempts truly free women from the dome of sex-negativism or reinforce the effect of the patriarchal language even more. This polarized debate, I believe, is due to the fact that the discourse is held captive by the language of patriarchy too powerful for one to extricate from, and that any rebellious gesture would appear to be an insufficient, passive rejection of the predominant ideology. To illustrate this point, Lauretis notes that Mulvey’s and other avant-garde filmmakers’ conceptualization of women’s cinema often associates with the prefix of “de-” with regards to “the destruction… of the very thing to be represented, …the deaestheticization of the female body, the desexualization of violence, the deoedipalization of narrative, and so forth” (175). The “de-” act does not necessarily configure a new set of attributes for feminist representation, but merely displays a negative reaction to a preexisting entity. It is important to be skeptical of its effectiveness in defining feminist cinema, as it implies certain extent of negotiation instead of spot-on confrontation with the previous value. A destructive feminist cinema can never provide a distinctive set of aesthetic attributes without having to seek to problematize and obscure the reality of a patriarchal cinema. In that regard, it is passive, dependent and depressed. More importantly, the question – how the destruction of visual and narrative pleasure immediately benefits women within the narrative and directly addresses female spectators – remains unanswered.

TakingClaire’s Cameraas an example, the film destructs the notion of a gendered visual pleasure by presenting the camera as a reinvented gazing apparatus, one that differs from the gendered gaze, and instead brings novel perception into being. Normally, when characters are being photographed, mainstream filmmakers tend to introduce a viewpoint in alignment with the photographer’s position, enabling spectator’s identification; that is, the shot usually shifts to a first-person perspective so that spectators identify with the photographer gazing at the object who is in front of the camera. Claire’s Camera, however, abandons this first-person perspective while generating new meanings of the gaze. Claire ambiguously explains to So and Yanghye the abstract idea that taking photographs of people changes the photographer’s perception of the photographed object, and that the object is not the same person before their photograph was taken. The spectacle, although objectifiable in nature, is not so passive as being the object constructed upon, but rather constructs new signification upon the subject. The notion of the gaze is therefore re-presented with alternative insights.

That being said, as I argued earlier, the destructive approach is not so sufficient an attempt at defining feminist cinema, because the way it functions nevertheless indulges feminist ideology in the role of passivity, deprived of autonomy and always a discourse dependent on and relative to the prepotency of patriarchy. In the conversation scene between So and Manhee, So, who is almost the age of Manhee’s father, criticizes her for wearing revealing shorts and heavy makeup. In a typically phallocentric manner, he insists that she has insulted her beautiful face and soul by self-sexualizing and turning into men’s erotic object. Despite the fact that the preceding scenes have no intention to eroticize the female body or sexualize her acts such that the visual pleasure is deliberately unfulfilled and almost completely excluded from the diegesis, So inevitably finds Manhee’s physical features provocative and without a second thought, naturally assumes that her bodily spectacle primarily serves man’s interest. This scene demonstrates that regardless of feminists’ radical destruction of visual pleasure, practitioners of patriarchal beliefs will not be affected at all; if any, the femininity enunciation only intensifies the social effects of patriarchy. The conversation between the two characters embodies the self-reflexive style of Hong Sang-soo’s filmmaking, in a sense that it fosters debates within the theoretical framework upon which it is constructed, and constantly counters itself in search of a deeper meaning, contemplating questions such as do we believe in what we practice, whether it is patriarchy or its opposite? And is anti-patriarchy feminism determined enough to prove itself a destructive force against patriarchy rather than a sub-deviant of a predominant ideology? The scene proves the drawback of a destructive strategy, that the way it operates nonetheless subscribes to a patriarchal manner, and that in order to escape the secondary position with respect to the phallocentric subject, more needs to be done other than problematizing the subject.

To supplement the insufficiency of destruction, postmodern feminists such as Judith Butler proposes theoretical alternative to approach the discourse. Butler argues that gender is performative and fluid instead of a set of essential attributes. The notion of performativity indeed precludes the social effects of essentialism by introducing the idea of an identity continuum into gender politics, in ways that empower the socially perceived non-normative. On top of that, Butler believes that the categorization of sex “maintain[s] reproductive sexuality as a compulsory order”, and that the category of woman is an exclusive and oppressive “material violence” (17). Acknowledging the harms that essentialist perception of gender and sexuality entails, Butler bluntly negates the very categorization of woman. This radical negation, however, evades the reality that our whole understanding of the human race is based on gender categories, despite the corresponding inequalities generated from the instinctual categorization. In fact, it is when women as a collective community have come to the realization that the female gender is socially suppressed, that they start to strive for equality through the apparatus of feminism. Butler’s rejection of the gender categorization withdraws the sense of collectivism in the feminist community, which is “an important source of unity” for the marginalized (Digeser 668). Moreover, it deprives the feminist cinema of the necessity of delineating an authentic female representation, because within the notion of performativity there is no such thing as a fixed set of female representations but only distinctive individuals that conform to gender fluidity. Since identifying with a certain form of representation means to live up to a socially perceived norm from which one deviates, a performative cinema does not encourage spectator’s identification. The failed identification will not only drastically shift the spectator’s self-understanding but also cause more identity crises. Therefore, performativity is too ideal a theoretical concept to have actual real-life applications.

Whether it is her body or her social function, woman has become the commodity of patriarchy. As Lauretis puts it, “she is the economic machine that reproduces the human species, and she is the Mother, an equivalent more universal than money, the most abstract measure ever invented by patriarchal ideology” (158). Woman’s experience has been portrayed in the cinematic realm nothing more than being the (m)other and the provocative body. Historical debates have proved that articulating the problematic tendencies within gender differences only results in skepticism rather than new solutions. Thus, in order to negotiate a feminist cinema, filmmakers need to abandon the patriarchal meta-language completely, and reconstruct new texts that represent and treasure woman’s experience more than just being the other, that “[address] its spectator as a woman, regardless of the gender of the viewers” (Lauretis 161).

Similarly, what needs to be done in feminist cinema is more than just interrogating the gender difference between woman and man, but interpreting such difference in unconventional ways that liberate women from being compared to men and invite them to possibilities of having narratives dedicated to themselves. One of the ways, Lauretis suggests, is to regard woman as the site of differences (168). This signifies that the cinema needs to stop generalizing woman’s role based on her universal functions; rather, it needs to articulate her unique features, what makes her herself but not other women, from the way she looks to the trivial details of her daily life. In Claire’s Camera, the function of the camera conveniently transcends the diegetic space. In the narrative, it demarcatesthe “site of differences”, that is, how someone changes right after their photograph is taken, as well as how Manhee is presented differently each of the three times being photographed. The camera also magnifies her experience as a woman for spectator’s identification, mundane as it could be. In the last scene, the camera smoothly tracks Manhee organizing her belongings, packing box after box, casually talking to a colleague passing by, and so forth. Long takes like this fulfill what Lauretis would call “the ‘pre-aesthetic’ [that] isaestheticrather than aestheticized” in feminist cinema (159). Without commodifying or fetishizing woman and her acts, the film authentically represents a woman’s vision, her perception, her routines, and all the insignificant daily events which female spectators can immediately relate to. When a film no longer solely portrays woman as the “economic machine” that labors, entices men, and commits to social roles, it has confidently overwritten the patriarchal narrative with a female language. It fully addresses its spectator as a woman, appreciating and celebrating the female sex, not for what she does as a woman but for what she experiences.

In conclusion, the essay first challenges the destructive approach in feminist cinema regarding its sufficiency in pursuit of woman’s autonomy and its indestructible destiny to fall back into patriarchy. The essay then argues that the rejection of gender categorization in performativity theory frustrates the mission of defining a female representation. Hong Sang-soo’s self-reflexive film, Claire’s Camera, offers an apparatus to delve into the drawbacks of destructive feminist cinema and simultaneously renders a new feminist code, abandoning the patriarchal metanarrative and constructing a new narrative that truly prioritizes woman’s experience.

Works Cited

Butler, Judith. “Contingent Foundations: Feminist and the Questions of ‘Postmodernism.’”Feminists Theorize the Political, edited by Judith Butler and Joan W. Scott, Routledge, 1992, pp. 3–21.

Digeser, Peter. “Performativity Trouble: Postmodern Feminism and Essential Subjects.” Political Research Quarterly, vol. 47, no. 3, 1994, pp. 655-673.

Lauretis, Teresa de. “Aesthetic and Feminist Theory: Rethinking Women's Cinema.”New German Critique, no. 34, 1985, pp. 154–175.

Lauretis, Teresa de. “Eccentric Subjects: Feminist Theory and Historical Consciousness.”Feminist Studies, vol. 16, no. 1, 1990, pp. 115–150.

Mackinnon, Catherine A. “Desire and Power.”Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law, Harvard University Press, 1987, pp. 46–62.

Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.”The Norton Anthology and Theory and Criticism, edited by Vincent B Leitch, W. W. Norton, 2001, pp. 2181–2192.

第五集心有戚戚。杀死一个人有很多种方式，放弃和离去是其中最伤心的一种，无论是被杀者还是杀人者。我认为剧中不过是一种影射，其实就是那个T最后放弃了她的GF，这很正常，别说抑郁症，其实感情本身也很容易被岁月消磨。但这一集中T还是很爱很爱GF的，一般的人，一般的爱，坚持不了那么久。

DEBATE也是一个隐喻吧。她们因此而相遇相爱，却因为DEBATE不过命运而分离。相聚或离开，都是缘聚缘灭。还是很值得的，毕竟曾真爱。世界上还有很多的离开，都是无谓的、本来就不是真的相爱，但分离却依然让人失望。

人生是一场盛大的旅途，但回忆往事里，其实，不过三五背影。现在好，才是真的好。

李连杰饰演的黄飞鸿系列是最经典的，后面换演员后我就看不下去了，总觉得那个有情有义骨子里爱国的大侠就该是李连杰演的那样。那个时候成龙大哥的功夫和李连杰的功夫相比我更喜欢李的，他的功夫看起来干脆利落收放自如，行云流水一气呵成。现在很少有这样的人了。不过我发现了一个人的武打动作也非常干脆利落非常好看，有点扯远了，拉回正题。这个电影里黄飞鸿和十三姨之间的爱情挺好看的，特别是十三姨教黄飞鸿英文我爱你还骗他说是打招呼的意思，让黄飞鸿一遍一遍的对她说爱老虎油哈哈哈哈哈笑死我了。这个电影的歌听起来真振奋人心，歌词更好男儿就应该自强，国家也只有强大起来别人才不敢随便欺辱。