On July 30, 1996, the media identified Richard Jewell as the F.B.I.'s prime suspect in the Olympic Park bombing. For the first time, the 34-year-old security guard tells his extraordi【详细】On July 30, 1996, the media identified Richard Jewell as the F.B.I.'s prime suspect in the Olympic Park bombing. For the first time, the 34-year-old security guard tells his extraordinary story, to MARIE BRENNER: his brief moment as a national hero, his hounding by the Feds and the press, and his eccentric friendship with the unknown southern lawyer who helped him through his public torment.FEBRUARY 1997 MARIE BRENNERDAN WINTERSThe search warrant was short and succinct, dated August 3, 9:41 A.M. F.B.I. special agent Diader Rosario was instructed to produce "hair samples (twenty-five pulled and twenty-five combed hairs from the head)" of Richard Allensworth Jewell. That Saturday, Atlanta was humid; the temperature would rise to 85 degrees. There were 34 Olympic events scheduled, including women's team handball, but Richard Jewell was in his mother's apartment playing Defender on a computer set up in the spare bedroom. Jewell hadn't slept at all the night before, or the night before that. He could hear the noise from the throng of reporters massed on the hill outside the small apartment in the suburbs. All morning long, he had been focused on the screen, trying to score off "the little guy who goes back and forth shooting the aliens," but at 12:30 the sound of the telephone disturbed his concentration. Very few people had his new number, by necessity unlisted. Since the F.B.I. had singled him out as the Olympic Park bombing suspect three days earlier, Jewell had received approximately 1,000 calls a day—someone had posted his mother's home number on the Internet."I'll be right over," his lawyer Watson Bryant told him. "They want your hair, they want your palm prints, and they want something called a voice exemplar—the goddamn bastards." The curtains were drawn in the pastel apartment filled with his mother's crafts and samplers; A HOME WITHOUT A DOG IS JUST A HOUSE, one read. By this time Bryant had a system. He would call Jewell from his car phone so that the door could be unlatched and Bryant could avoid the questions from the phalanx of reporters on the hill.Turning into the parking lot in a white Explorer, Bryant could see sound trucks parked up and down Buford Highway. The middle-class neighborhood of apartment complexes and shopping centers was near the DeKalb Peachtree Airport, where local millionaires kept their private planes. The moment Bryant got out of his car, the reporters began to shout: "Hey, Watson, do they have the murderer?" "Are they arresting Jewell?" Bryant moved quickly toward the staircase to the Jewells' apartment. He wore a baseball cap, khaki shorts, and a frayed Brooks Brothers polo shirt. He was 45 years old, with strong features and thinning hair, a southern preppy from a country-club family. Bryant had a stern demeanor lightened by a contrarian's sense of the absurd. He was often distracted—from time to time he would miss his exits on the highway—and he had the regional tendency of defining himself by explaining what he was not. "I am not a Democrat, because they want your money. I am not a Republican, because they take your rights away," he told me soon after I met him. Bryant can talk your ear off about the Bill of Rights, ending with a flourish: "I think everyone ought to have the right to be stupid. I am a Libertarian."At the time Richard Jewell was named as a suspect by the F.B.I., Watson Bryant made a modest living by doing real-estate closings in the suburbs, but Jewell and his lawyer had formed an unusual friendship a decade earlier, when Jewell worked as a mailroom clerk at a federal disaster-relief agency where Bryant practiced law. Jewell was then a stocky kid without a father, who had trained as an auto mechanic but dreamed of being a policeman; Bryant had always had a soft spot for oddballs and strays, a personality quirk which annoyed his then wife no end.The serendipity of this friendship, an alliance particularly southern in its eccentricity, would bring Watson Bryant to the immense task of attempting to save Richard Jewell from the murky quagmire of a national terrorism case. The simple fact was that Bryant had no qualifications for the job. He had no legal staff except for his assistant, Nadya Light, no contacts in the press, and no history in Washington. He was the opposite of media-savvy; he rarely read the papers and never watched the nightly news, preferring the Discovery Channel's shows on dog psychology. Now that Richard Jewell was his client, he had entered a zone of worldwide media hysteria fraught with potential peril. Jewell suspected that his pickup truck had been flown in a C-130 transport plane to the F.B.I. unit at Quantico in Virginia, and Bryant worried that his friend would be arrested any minute. Worse, Bryant knew that he had nothing going for him, no levers anywhere. His only asset was his personality; he had the bravado and profane hyperbole of a southern rich boy, but he was in way over his head.For hours that Saturday, Bryant and Jewell sat and waited for the F.B.I. From time to time Jewell would put binoculars under the drawn curtain in his mother's bedroom to peer at the reporters on the hill. Bryant was nervous that Jewell's mother, Bobi, would return from baby-sitting and see her son having hairs pulled out of his head. Bryant stalked around the apartment complaining about the F.B.I. "The sons of bitches did not show up until three P.M.," he later recalled, and when they did, there were five of them. The F.B.I. medic was tall and muscular and wore rubber gloves. He asked Jewell to sit at a small round table in the living room, where his mother puts her holiday-theme displays. Bryant stood by the sofa next to a portrait of Jewell in his Habersham County deputy's uniform. He watched the F.B.I. procedure carefully. The medic, who had huge hands, used tiny drugstore tweezers. "He eyeballed his scalp and took his hair in sections. First he ran a comb through it, and then he took these hairs and plucked them out one by one."Jewell "went stone-cold," but Bryant could not contain his temper. "I am his lawyer. I know you can have this, I know you have a search warrant, but I tell you this: If you were doing this to me, you would have to fight me. You would have to beat the shit out of me," Bryant recalled telling the case agent Ed Bazar. Bazar, Bryant later said, was apologetic. "He seemed almost embarrassed to be there." As he counted out the hairs, he placed them in an envelope. The irony of the situation was not lost on Bryant. He was a lawyer, an officer of the court, but he had a disdain for authority, and he was representing a former deputy who read the Georgia law code for fun in his spare time.It took 10 minutes to pluck Jewell's thick auburn hair. Then the F.B.I. agents led him into the kitchen and took his palm prints on the table. "That took 30 minutes, and they got ink all over the table," Bryant said. Then Bazar told Bryant they wanted Jewell to sit on the sofa and say into the telephone, "There is a bomb in Centennial Park. You have 30 minutes." That was the message given by the 911 caller on the night of the bombing. He was to repeat the message 12 times. Bryant saw the possibility of phony evidence and of his client's going to jail. "I said, 'I am not sure about this. Maybe you can do this, maybe you can't, but you are not doing this today.'"All afternoon, Jewell was strangely quiet. He had a sophisticated knowledge of police work and believed, he later said, "they must have had some evidence if they wanted my hair. ... I knew their game was intimidation. That is why they brought five agents instead of two." He felt "violated and humiliated," he told me, but he was passive, even docile, through Bryant's outburst. He thought of the bombing victims— Alice Hawthorne, the 44-year-old mother from Albany, Georgia, at the park with her stepdaughter; Melih Uzunyol, the Turkish cameraman who died of a heart attack; the more than 100 people taken to area hospitals, some of whom were his friends. "I kept thinking, These guys think I did this. These guys were accusing me of murder. This was the biggest case in the nation and the world. If they could pin it on me, they were going to put me in the electric chair."I met Richard Jewell three months later, on October 28, a few hours before a press conference called by his lawyers to allow Jewell to speak publicly for the first time since the F.B.I. had cleared him. Jewell's lawyers also intended to announce that they would file damage suits against NBC and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. It was a Monday, and that weekend the local U.S. attorney had delivered a letter to one of the lawyers stating Jewell was no longer a suspect. "Goddamn it," Bryant had told me on the phone, "the sons of bitches did not even have the decency to address it to Richard Jewell."I had been instructed to come early to the offices of Wood & Grant, the flashy plaintiff lawyers Bryant had pulled in to help him with Jewell's civil suits. When I arrived, I was alone in the office with Sharon Anderson, the redheaded assistant answering the phones. "Wood & Grant . . . Wood & Grant . . . Wood & Grant"—the calls overwhelmed her. Lin Wood and Wayne Grant were rushing from CNN to the local NBC and ABC affiliates, working the shows. "Everyone has theories of who the real bomber is," Sharon said. "I just write it all down and give it to the boys."When Lin Wood arrived, he was still in full makeup. Movie-star handsome with green eyes and styled hair, Wood has the heated oratory of a trial lawyer. "It's a war! Why in this bevy of stories does not anyone point out the fact that Richard was a hero one day and a demon the next? They have destroyed this man's life!"Watson Bryant had worked with Wood and Grant years before in a local law firm. He admired Wayne Grant for his methodical sense of detail; Grant, a New Yorker, had once forced the city of Atlanta to pay large damages to a man injured while illegally digging for antique bottles in a park. But Lin Wood's suppressed rage was a marvel to Bryant. "He is so tough he could make people cry in depositions when we were kids," Bryant told me. Wood possessed the smooth style of a member of the Atlanta establishment, but he had a hardscrabble past. He was a boy from "the wrong side of the tracks" in Macon who at age 17 discovered his mother's body after his father had murdered her. His father went to jail, and Wood wound up as a lawyer. He went through college and law school on scholarships and with part-time jobs. I could hear Wood on Sharon's telephone: "He's more than innocent. He's a goddamn hero. . . . Everyone is going to pay who wronged Richard Jewell. Besides NBC and The A.J.C., we are going to look into suing CNN and Jay Leno."Through the large picture window, I had a clear view of the remains of the Centennial Olympic Park, where the bomb had exploded on the night of July 26. Where the sound-and-light tower had once been, there was now a flattened dirt field. It was possible to see the Greek commemorative sculpture that Richard Jewell used to describe for tourists at the AT&T pavilion, where he worked as a security guard.Suddenly, Jewell was in the room. "Hi. I'm Richard. I'm a little late. I don't want you to think I am rude. I am not like that." He had an open face, a bland pleasantness, an eagerness to please. "Can I get you a Coke?" he asked me. "How about some coffee?" Jewell wore a blue-and-white striped shirt and chinos. He occupied physical space like a teenager; he sprawled, he lumbered, he pawed through Sharon's candy bowl. On TV his face had a porcine blankness; he appeared suspicious. In person, Jewell has a hard time disguising his emotions.We were alone in the conference room; I noticed that Jewell avoided looking out the window toward the park. He shifted his glance nervously away from the view. He often awakens in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, thinking of the events in the park in the early morning hours of July 27. "It took me days before I could even come in here," he said anxiously.The newsroom atmosphere resembled that at F.B.I. headquarters; there was a frenzy to be first.When Jewell noticed a local ABC reporter outside near Sharon's desk, his face darkened. "I don't want to be around reporters right now. I guess I am a little nervous. What is he doing here?" The atmosphere was now filled with tension; the reporter was escorted out.Moments later, we gathered in the hallway. Wood was steely: "We are going in two cars. Richard, you drive with me. Your mother will go with Wayne. As we walk down the hall right now, if the ABC people are outside, I will tap you on the shoulder and I will say, 'How are you doing?' You will say, 'Fine.' Is that understood?" "O.K., Lin. I understand," Jewell said quietly, head bowed.As Jewell walked down the hall, an ABC cameraman photographed him looking grim. Seconds after the elevator doors closed, Jewell exploded: "What are they doing here, Lin? Did you invite them? They are animals. Why didn't you get them out of here?""ABC has been good to you. How do I get them out of the office on the day of your press conference?""That is what security is for!" Jewell said, quivering with rage. "Where is Watson?" he asked in the garage. "I told you: he's at a real-estate closing. He will meet you at the press conference," Wood said. Jewell moved to his mother's side, as solicitous as a child. "Are you all right, Mother?" he asked. "It is all I am going to be able to do not to do something!" she said angrily.When we arrived at the Marriott hotel on 1-75, there was another discussion in the parking lot, about who would walk with whom in front of the cameras. Jewell turned to his close friend Dave Dutchess: "Are you all right, man?" Dutchess, a truckdriver who worked with Jewell years ago, has long hair and a tattoo of a panther on his forearm. "Richard and I are like brothers," he told me. "I would die for him." As the cameras closed in on them, the group fled to a private room in the Marriott. The auditorium was filled with reporters. "Showtime! Showtime!" the cameramen yelled when Jewell, his mother, and all the lawyers took the stage."I hope and pray that no one else is ever subjected to the pain and the ordeal that I have gone through," Jewell said, his voice breaking. "The authorities should keep in mind the rights of the citizens. I thank God it is ended and that you now know what I have known all along: I am an innocent man."After the press conference, Bobi and Richard Jewell remained in a private room. The bookers from Good Morning America and the Today show pressed Jewell to step before their cameras, and when Watson Bryant told them no, Monica, the G.M.A. booker, began to cry, "I'll lose my job." Then Yael, the Today-show booker, cornered Nadya Light: "Is Richard doing something with G.M.A.?'Upstairs, Jewell and his mother were being filmed by a CBS camera crew for a 60 Minutes news update. "Well, Bobi, did you get your Tupperware back?" Mike Wallace asked by phone from New York. "Richard, you need to lose some more weight." Despite Wallace's festive spirit, the atmosphere was curiously flat. Bryant urged Jewell to talk to a USA Today reporter. Jewell balked: "They can all go suck wind."In the car on the way back to Wood & Grant, Bobi was angry. All of her possessions had come back from the F.B.I. marked up with ink. "Every piece of Tupperware I own is ruined, thank you very much. They wrote numbers all over it, and I have tried everything to clean it—Comet and Brillo—but nothing works."Back at the office, she sat on the sofa and listened as Bryant negotiated with Yael for a flight to New York— Delta, first-class, 9:30 P.M. Jewell was scheduled to appear on three shows in New York, visit the American Museum of Natural History, and then fly to Washington, D.C., for Larry King Live. "I would like to go home, put on my outfit, and walk in the woods," Bobi said. "Richard, we are leaving.""Yes, ma'am," Richard said.One hour later, a telephone call came in to the offices of Wood & Grant. The lawyers had the call on speaker, and it blared through the room. "Goddamn it, Lin. When will this be over?" In the background, you could hear Bobi sobbing. "What in the world?" Wood asked. Jewell explained that a sound truck from ABC had been waiting in the parking lot when the Jewells got home. There had been words and threats, and Dave Dutchess had taken his stun gun off his motorcycle and waved it at the ABC van. The cameraman yelled: Stop harassing us! Dave yelled back: You are harassing us! Now get your ass out of here!Wood shouted into the speakerphone: "Do not meddle! You cannot jeopardize where you have gotten to and what you want to do! All you have to do is put up with this for one more day and the damn thing is over. Bobi, there is nothing you can do about it; you have to stay cool." Bobi cried back, "They are going to destroy me!"The moment they hung up, Wood turned to Bryant. "New York is canceled. No Katie Couric. No Good Morning America. They are losing it. You better call Yael." "No," Bryant said, "they have lost it. All of the above: their patience, their temper and heart."That evening a very testy Katie Couric tracked Bryant down at Nadya Light's apartment, where we had gone to watch the news. "I want you to know that I canceled interviewing Barbra Streisand in L.A. for Richard Jewell. Don't think he is always going to be a news story. No one will care about him in three days," she said, according to Bryant. "Look, Katie, I am sorry. But Richard is in no condition to talk to the press. He is worn out," Bryant told her.Later, Jewell would tell me that that day, which should have been one of his most satisfying, was actually his worst. His notoriety had tainted the triumph; everything positive had become negative. "I was in despair," he said. As he had for most of the previous 88 days, he spent the night confined in the Buford Highway apartment, a prisoner of his circumstances, with his mother, Dave Dutchess, and Dave's fiancee, Beatty, eating Domino's Pizza and watching himself lead the newscasts on NBC, CBS, and ABC."This case has everything—the F.B.I., the press, the violation of the Bill of Rights from the First to the Sixth Amendment."'This case has everything— the F.B.I., the press, the violation of the Bill of Rights, from the First to the Sixth Amendment," Watson Bryant told me in one of our first conversations. It has become common to characterize the F.B.I.'s investigation of Richard Jewell as the epitome of false accusation. The phrase "the Jewell syndrome," a rush to judgment, has entered the language of newsrooms and First Amendment forums. On the night of Jewell's press conference, a commentator on CNN's Crossfire compared Jewell's situation to "Kafka in Prague." The case became an investigative catastrophe, which laid bare long-simmering resentments of many F.B.I. career professionals regarding the micromanagement style and imperious attitude of Louis Freeh and his inner circle of former New York prosecutors, who have worked together since their days at the U.S. Attorney's Office in the Southern District. Within the bureau, the beleaguered director now has a new nickname: J. Edgar Hoover with children. Like Freeh, those near him have also acquired a nickname: Louie's yes-men. Two of Freeh's closest associates, F.B.I. general counsel Howard Shapiro and former deputy director Larry Potts, have been severely criticized, respectively, for advising the White House of confidential F.B.I. material and for an alleged cover-up of the mishandling of the 1992 standoff at Ruby Ridge, where F.B.I. agents killed the wife and son of Randy Weaver, a white supremacist.In November and December, the Office of Professional Responsibility conducted an exhaustive investigation into the Jewell affair. Responding to an attempt by headquarters and certain officials to distance themselves, according to F.B.I. sources, several agents, including a senior F.B.I. supervisor in Atlanta, have provided the O.P.R. with signed statements insisting that Freeh himself was responsible for "oversight" during the crisis. These agents "shocked the investigators" because they reiterated, when asked who was in charge of the overall command of the investigation, that it was the director himself.What happened to Richard Jewell raises an important question central to Freeh's future tenure: in the midst of a media frenzy, does the F.B.I. have any responsibility to protect the privacy of an innocent man? Over the last year, this concept was broached with Bob Bucknam, Louis Freeh's chief of staff. During the long Pizza Connection trial in the 1980s, it was Bucknam who handed Freeh files at the prosecutor's table. According to highly placed sources in the bureau, Bucknam's answer was immediate: the F.B.I. has no responsibility to correct information in the public domain.Richard Jewell had a reverence for authority that blinded him to the paradox of his situation. He idealized the investigative skills of the F.B.I. and could not understand that he had become ensnared in a web fraught with the weaknesses of a self-protective bureaucracy. Pennsylvania senator Arlen Specter has invited Jewell to Washington to testify at congressional hearings on the F.B.I.'s conduct in the Atlanta bombing. Ironically, the bungling of the investigation might lead to the reshuffling of personalities at the top of the bureau and threaten Freeh's reputation. In October, according to The Washington Post, Freeh sent an unusual memo to all 25,000 F.B.I. personnel: He would not be abandoning his post amid reports of problems with the Jewell case and Filegate, and of a growing dissatisfaction inside the bureau. "I am proud to be the F.B.I. director," Freeh wrote.From the beginning, Jewell was perceived in the public imagination as a hapless dummy, a plodding misfit, a Forrest Gump. On one of the first days he worked as a security guard at the AT&T pavilion, he noticed that his co-workers were covering the steps inside the sound tower with graffiti. On one step Jewell scrawled with a flourish two bromides: IF YOU DIDN'T GO PAST ME, YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE and LIFE IS TOUGH. TOUGHER WHEN YOU ARE STUPID. Soon after he was targeted as a suspect in the Olympics bombing, the F.B.I. confiscated the step. Analysts appeared to believe that the graffiti contained a clue to his character. "They told the lawyers the statement was an obvious taunt," Jewell said. In fact, the second line was an expression he had cribbed from one of his favorite actors, John Wayne.Within the F.B.I., the beleaguered director has a new nickname: J. Edgar Hoover with children."To understand Richard Jewell, you have to be aware that he is a cop. He talks like a cop and thinks like a cop," his criminal lawyer, Jack Martin, told me. The tone of Jewell's voice drops noticeably when he says the word "officer," and his conversation is filled with observations about traffic patterns, security devices, and car wrecks. Even the vocabulary he uses to describe the 88 days he was a suspect is out of the lexicon of police work, and he continues to talk about his situation then in the present tense: "This is an out-and-out ambush, and I am a hostage."Jewell has a need to accommodate. He can be startlingly opaque. On the afternoon of July 30, Jewell answered the door of his mother's apartment to Don Johnson and Diader Rosario from the F.B.I. "We need your help making a training film," they told him. "I never questioned it," he told me. The next day Rosario appeared again with a search warrant. "The weird thing was that when they were searching my apartment I was, like, 'Take everything. Take the carpet. I am law enforcement. I am just like you. Guys, take whatever you are going to take, because it is going to prove that I didn't do anything.' And a couple of them were looking at me like I was crazy."Leaving the apartment on one occasion, he told the agents, "I am wearing a bright shirt so y'all can see me easier." He recalled feeling anger when he read descriptions of himself as a child-man, a mama's boy, and "a wannabe policeman," but he said, "If I was in the place of everybody else and I saw a 34-year-old guy living with his mother, I would have reservations about that, too. I would think, Why is he doing that?"The December issue of Atlanta magazine reported that there was no record of a Jewell family in Danville, Virginia, where Richard Jewell was born. Atlanta referred to an article in the Danville Register & Bee which asked, "Did Richard Jewell ever sleep here?" "This is a part of my life Richard and I do not like to speak about," Bobi Jewell told me one night at dinner. Richard was born in Danville, but his name was Richard White; his father was Bobi's first husband, Robert Earl White, who worked for Chevrolet. According to Bobi, Richard's father, who died recently, was "irresponsible and a ladies' man." When Richard was four, the marriage broke up. Bobi found work as an insurance-agency claims coordinator and soon met John Jewell, an executive in the same business. Shortly after John Jewell married Bobi, he adopted Richard.From the time Richard was a child, he and his mother were a unit. Bobi, a woman of intelligence and disciplined work habits, is both tender and tough on the subject of her son. She still calls Richard "my boy," but she has a peppery disposition. Richard was brought up in a strict Baptist home. "If I didn't say 'Yes, ma'am' or 'No, ma'am' and get it out quick enough, I would be on the ground," he said. When he was six, the family moved to Atlanta. Richard was the boy who helped the teachers and worked as a school crossing guard, but he had few friends in high school. "I was a wannabe athlete, but I wasn't good enough," he said. He ran the movie projector in the library. A military-history buff, he liked to talk about Napoleon and the Vietnam War and read books on both World Wars.Jewell's ambition was to work on cars, so he enrolled in a technical school in southern Georgia. On his third day there, Bobi discovered that her husband had packed a suitcase. "He left a note saying that he was a failure and no good for us," Jewell said. Almost immediately, Richard moved back home and took a job repairing cars. "My mom and I tried to take care of each other," he said. "I think I handled it pretty much better than she did." Richard took the brunt of his father's abandonment; Bobi pulled even closer to her son. "She hated all men for about three years after that, and she became overly protective of me. She looked at it that I was going to do the same thing that my dad did. I was 18 or 19. I was working. She never liked my dates, but I never held that against her. We have always been able to lean on each other."Richard managed a local TCBY yogurt shop and once stopped a burglary in progress. At the age of 22, he was hired as a clerk at the Small Business Administration, and he impressed Watson Bryant and the other lawyers in the office with his personable nature. They called him Radar because of his efficiency. "You could say, 'I'm hungry,' and suddenly this kid would be by your side with a Snickers bar," Bryant recalled. When Jewell's contract with the S.B.A. ran out, he moved on to be a Marriott house detective. In 1990 he was hired as a jailer in the Habersham County Sheriff's Office, and in 1991 he became a deputy. As part of his training, he was sent to the Northeast Georgia Police Academy, where he finished in the upper 25 percent of his class. He finally had an identity; he was a law-enforcement officer.Jewell was unlucky in love. He presented one woman with an engagement ring, and later, in Habersham County, he would give another a large wooden key with a sign that read, THIS IS THE KEY TO UNLOCK YOUR HEART, but both relationships came apart. In northern Georgia, Jewell worked nights and became wedded to his job. By his own description, he was methodical. "I am the kind of person who plans everything. I like to go from A to B to C to D. This going from A to D and arguing over everything—I say no." Habersham County, a scenic part of the piney woods in Georgia's Bible Belt, was for Jewell like "leaving the 1990s and going into the 1970s in terms of law enforcement." Many rich Atlantans have country houses in the mountains, but the small towns of Demorest and Charlottesville are relatively undeveloped, reminding one of Jewell's lawyers of the scenery in the movie Deliverance. "If you get lost up there, you might find a guy with a bow and arrow," the lawyer said.Recently, Jewell and I took the 90-minute drive from Atlanta to Habersham County, which has acres of apple orchards. The leaves were turning, and the roads were mostly deserted. In the towns, however, were stores, apple stands, and even a good Chinese restaurant. As Jewell's blue pickup truck turned into the parking lot of a shopping center, several people came out to greet him.Jewell had lived in a small yellow house up a steep rocky driveway. On the day we visited, the current resident's Halloween decorations were still up, as were faded white satin ribbons hanging from many trees, remnants of a campaign to clear Richard Jewell organized by area friends. Jewell had lived 50 yards from the Chattahoochee River near a kayak-and-canoe tourist concession on a main road—not in a "cabin in the woods," as several reports stated after the bombing. He worked the night shift, and when he would arrive home at dawn, he told me, he could look up and "see a sky filled with stars."He was not a loner; he made friends with several local families. He would often leave a box of Dunkin' Donuts on friends' porches at four A.M. During the O. J. Simpson trial, he and the other deputies would meet in the turnaround on Highway 985 in the middle of the night and review the day's events and the bungling by the Los Angeles Police Department. Jewell would later be annoyed that the F.B.I. confiscated his copy of former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi's account of the trial. Jewell dated a local girl, Sheree Chastain, and had a close relationship with her family.Jewell had a complex history working at the Habersham County Sheriff's Office. When he was still a jailer, he arrested a couple making too much noise in a hot tub at an apartment building where he did part-time security work. He was arrested for impersonating an officer and, after pleading guilty to a lesser charge, was placed on probation on the condition that he seek psychological counseling.By his own estimation, Jewell's strength as a cop was "working car wrecks." He had his mother's diligence; he worked 14 hours a day and organized a safety fair. Later in 1995 he wrecked his patrol car and was demoted to working in the jail. Rick Moore, a local deputy, advised him to accept the job, but Jewell despised the jailhouse atmosphere. He told me, "It was a small room filled with cigarette smoke. I couldn't take it." He resigned, and in a short time he moved to a police job at Piedmont College, a liberal-arts school with approximately 1,000 students on the main road in Demorest. The college police had jurisdiction only on campus and in an area extending out 500 feet. Jewell chased cars speeding down the highway and had arguments over turf with other officers. He was instrumental in several arrests, including that of a suspected burglar he discovered hiding at the top of a tree. For his work on a volunteer rescue squad, he was named a citizen of the year.According to Brad Mattear, a former resident director, Piedmont was a school of "P.K.'s"—preachers' kids. It was 80 percent Baptist with a strict no-drinking rule. The college had many rebellious students, according to Mattear, kids who were "away from home for the first time and wanted to party and drink." Mattear knew Jewell well and recalled his good manners and playful nature. "It was always 'Yes, sir' and 'Yes, ma'am.'" Jewell would tell students, "I know y'all are going to drink. Don't do it on campus."Jewell felt confined by his boundaries and could be heavy-handed when it came to writing out reports on minor infractions. Once when we were driving by the campus, he pointed to a small brick dormitory. "That was where all the partying would go on," he told me. Jewell would raid dorm rooms and report drinking violations. "I did not hesitate to tell the parents—in no uncertain terms—what their kids were up to," he said.He soon made enemies at the school. "Three or four times a week," Mattear said, Piedmont students were in the office of Ray Cleere, the president of the college, complaining about Jewell and other Piedmont police. After Jewell was admonished for a number of controversial arrests, he resigned.Jewell had an out: his mother was going to have an operation on her foot. He would go home to Atlanta for the Olympics and look for a new job. He called his mother: "Is it all right with you if I stay with you while you have your surgery?" He hoped he might get a job with the Atlanta police or, failing that, work security at the Olympics. "I thought, Working at the Centennial Olympic Park will look really good on my resume."At the age of 33, back in his mother's apartment, he was at first treated like a wayward teenager. Bobi was sharp with him about his slovenly habits, his weight, and his driving. Bobi had carved out a life for herself; she arrived at work by eight A.M. each morning and had many friends. Trim, with short-cropped hair, Bobi Jewell is the kind of woman who labels her clothes and spices and spends much of her spare time baking cakes and babysitting for extra money. She carries on telephone friendships with claim adjusters at other companies. It was somewhat unsettling for her, she told me, to have Richard at home after she had grown used to living with only her dog, Brandi, and her cat, Boots. Bobi was annoyed that he had wrecked a patrol car, and worried about his safety. "Every time he leaves the apartment, I'll say, 'Richard . . . ' And he'll say, 'Yes, ma'am. I know. The person that I am going to see will be there when I get there,'" she said. On one occasion Bobi talked about Richard's return to Atlanta. "What is wrong with trying to revamp your life?" she asked me. Her eyes filled with tears. "Why does everyone in the media think it is so strange?"On Friday, July 26, Bobi Jewell was home waiting for her niece to arrive from Virginia for the Olympic softball competition the following week. In preparation, she had stocked her apartment with food. It was a clear Georgia evening, not as hot as had been expected. As usual, Richard left for the park at 4:45 P.M. and arrived at the AT&T pavilion about 5:30. His stomach was bothering him; he was convinced that he had eaten a bad hamburger the day before. Lin Wood and Wayne Grant had arranged to take their children to Centennial Park that night. The park, in downtown Atlanta, stretches over 21 acres. There were air-conditioned tents, concerts on the stage, and hot-dog and souvenir stands. Downtown Atlanta was usually deserted in the oppressively hot, humid summer, but this year thousands of tourists filled the sidewalks, or sat on benches in the shade of some crape-myrtle trees, or cooled off by a fountain. Tour buses clogged the main arteries, and everyone complained that it took hours to get anywhere; stories were traded about athletes' getting to their competitions late because of the poor planning of the Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games.As always, Jewell was working the 12-hour night shift near the sound-and-light tower by the stage. He was pleased because one of his favorite groups—Jack Mack and the Heart Attack—was going to perform at 12:45. Jewell had a routine: he would check in and fill the ice chest he kept by a bench at his station. Jewell liked to offer water and Cokes to pregnant women or policemen who stopped to rest.After he arrived at the park, his stomach cramps grew worse and he had a bout of diarrhea. At approximately 10 P.M. he took a break to go to the bathroom. The closest one was by the stage, but the security staff was not allowed to use it. "I really have to go," Jewell says he told the stage manager. "And he said, 'Well, O.K. this time.'"When Jewell came out, he noticed that it was "real calm" and there wasn't much wind blowing. At that time of night, the crowd from Bud World became a little more raucous. Jewell was annoyed when he saw a group of drunks near his bench and beer cans littering the area beside the fence nearby. As he went to report the trash and the group that was carousing, he spotted a large olive-green military-style backpack, known as an Alice pack, under the bench. There had been a similar bag found the week before. Jewell later told an F.B.I. agent that he was annoyed that one of the drunks had tried to get into the lens of a camera crew. Jewell had told them to cut it out. "They were running off at the mouth," Jewell would later tell Larry Landers of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation (G.B.I.)."I was light about the package at first," he told me, "kidding around with Tom Davis from the G.B.I.: 'Well, are you going to open it?' At that point, it was not a concern. I was thinking to myself, Well, I am sure one of these people left it on the ground. When Davis came back and said, 'Nobody said it was theirs,' that is when the little hairs on the back of my head began to stand up. I thought, Uh-oh. This is not good."I never really had time to be frightened. My law-enforcement background paid off here. What went through my head was like a computer screen of this list I had to do. I had to call my supervisor. I have to tell people in the tower that something was going on. I have to be firm with them, stay calm, and be professional."Almost immediately, Jewell and Tom Davis cleared a 25-foot-square area around the backpack; Jewell made two trips into the tower to warn the technicians. "I want y'all out now. This is serious."Two blocks away on Marietta Street, approximately 300 editors, copywriters, and reporters from Cox newspapers around the country had taken over the extra desks in the new eighth-floor newsroom at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution to prepare the special Olympics edition they put out each afternoon. The paper had gone "Olympics-crazy," according to one reporter. The editor, Ron Martin, and the managing editor, John Walter—"WalMart," as they were called—had let it be known that no expense would be spared. Ann Hardie, who normally covers science, had been sent around the world to master the fine points of beach volleyball; Bill Rankin, officially on the federal-court beat, was assigned table tennis. The paper intended to set new standards in its hometown during the games, but in addition there was a hint of redemption in the air.Since Cox newspaper executives had forced the resignation of the distinguished editor Bill Kovach in 1988, the paper had suffered a severe loss of reputation. "We all felt just kind of beaten down," one reporter said. Kovach had been brought to Atlanta from The New York Times to elevate The A.J.C. into being the definitive paper of the New South, but eventually he irritated the local powers. Atlanta was inbred, a city of deals, and he resigned in a blaze of press outrage. Kovach now ran the Nieman journalism-fellowship program at Harvard, and the movie rights to his turbulent years in Atlanta—reported in these pages by Peter J. Boyer—had been sold to Warner Bros.Within the profession, The A.J.C. had become something of a joke. More and more, its emphasis was on what John Walter called "chunklets"—short bits in a soft-news style known as eye-candy. The paper published features on couples massage and how mushrooms grow in the rain. Walter had fired off several terse memos to ensure that there would be no more jumps of news stories to back pages and no more unsourced news stories, except on rare occasions. "I don't see any reason why you can't report hard news in a short form," one editor told me.The A.J. C. style of reporting in declarative sentences had a name, too: the voice of God. It was omniscient, because it allowed no references to unattributed sources. Subjects such as AIDS, which often required confidentiality, could not be covered properly in the paper, in the opinion of several reporters. The A.J.C. picked up news stories with unnamed sources from The New York Times, however, and reporters groused about the hypocrisy of the double standard.On Saturday morning, July 27, Bob Johnson, the night metro editor, left the newsroom at one A.M. The sidewalks were still crowded; Johnson sat on a wall outside waiting for an A.J.C. shuttle bus to pick him up. About 1:25 he heard a strange noise. "It sounded like an aerial bomb at a fireworks show," he said. He recalled thinking, Damn, that is sort of foolish. Then he heard screams and saw people running. Johnson rushed back upstairs to the almost deserted sixth-floor newsroom. Lyda Longa, a night police reporter, was still there. Johnson sent her down to the park and turned on the news, but nothing had moved across the wires. Just after two A.M., Longa called from the park. She told Johnson that one person had been killed and dozens were down—it was absolute chaos. Johnson could hear the sirens and the screams through the telephone; he began to type into his computer. "We were trying to get a bullet into the street edition," Johnson recalled. In the crisis, it took only minutes for reporters to return to the newsroom; several had been at the park when the bomb went off. Rochelle Bozman, an Olympics editor, appeared and took over for Johnson. Soon John Walter was there, as was Bert Roughton, who would assist him in supervising the A.J.C. coverage of the bombing.At the park, Jewell spoke with the first F.B.I. agents to arrive on the scene. The smell and the noise, he remembered, were overwhelming, and sensations blurred together. "It was hard to describe the sound," he said. "It was like what you hear in the movies. It was, like, KABOOM. I had seen an explosion in police training. We had ear protection when it went off. It smelled like a flash-bang grenade. The sky was not filled with black smoke, but grayish-white. All the shrapnel that was inside the package kept flying around, and some of the people got hit from the bench and some with metal."Bobi Jewell had just gone to sleep when the telephone rang. It was Richard. "Mom, they had a bomb go off down here, but I am O.K. regardless of what the TV says." He could hardly speak; he seemed paralyzed. Jewell did not mention to his mother that he had found the backpack and alerted Tom Davis. Bobi was perplexed. "I thought, What does he mean?"All night long she stayed on the foldout sofa watching the news reports. She was frightened by the ambulances, the noise, the bodies in the park.Soon veteran homicide detectives in the Atlanta police arrived at the bomb site. One sergeant was trying to make his way through the crowd when an Olympics official stopped him. "Tell these cops to get the hell out of here," he said, according to a captain in the homicide division. "Well, you get the fuck out of here. Who are you?" the sergeant demanded. Agents from the Atlanta F.B.I. office and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were in a shouting match over jurisdiction. "We are handling this!" one said. "No, this is ours!" an F.B.I. agent snapped.In the command center at F.B.I. headquarters in northeastern Atlanta, there was complete pandemonium. The Olympics were a national convention for law enforcement. Some 30,000 security personnel were on hand. Over the next few days, there would be an internal debate: Who was going to be in charge of the bombing investigation? In Atlanta at that time were three veteran investigators with executive experience: Tom Fuentes, who is credited with helping to bring John Gotti to heel; Barry Mawn, who has worked extensively in organized-crime probes; and Robin Montgomery, the head of the critical-incident unit at Quantico, who at Ruby Ridge in 1992 questioned the disastrous "rules of engagement" which led to tragedy.In the early-morning hours, F.B.I. agents picked up several suspects, including one referred to as "the drunk in the bar." According to F.B.I. sources, Louis Freeh himself got on the telephone to Barry Mawn. Freeh, a former F.B.I. agent, was personally monitoring the initial investigation by means of a series of conference calls from the command post at F.B.I. headquarters. He focused on "the drunk in the bar," who had been making threats the night before, and within hours the information was leaked that the F.B.I. had a suspect. From Atlanta, Barry Mawn contacted his superiors in Washington. "This suspect is not the bomber," he reportedly said, according to a former highlevel F.B.I. executive. Freeh allegedly lost his temper and belittled Mawn's professional abilities. He is said to have told Mawn that he "had handled this all wrong." The words one hears characterizing Freeh's telephone calls to the agents on duty in Atlanta are "abusive," "condescending," and "dismissive." A story went around the command center that Freeh was already saying, "We have our man," according to a source in the bureau.Watson Bryant was thinking, I cannot believe that I know anyone who throws pipe bombs into gopher holes.Freeh made a decision: however experienced Montgomery, Fuentes, and Mawn were, this investigation would be run by Division 5 of the F.B.I., the National Security Division, a former counterintelligence unit that has been looking for a purpose since the Cold War ended. Trained in observation, division members rarely made a criminal case—their strength was intimidation and manipulation rather than the deliberate gathering of evidence to be presented in court. The F.B.I. promptly declared the bombing a terrorism case and placed it under the authority of Bob Bryant, head of the division. David Tubbs of Division 5 was sent to Atlanta to be the spokesman and to augment Woody Johnson, the Atlanta special agent in charge (S.A.C.), who had been trained in hostage rescue and who was awkward in press briefings. Tubbs was not as experienced in criminal cases as Mawn or Montgomery, who returned to Newark and Quantico, respectively, "to get out of the line of fire," according to numerous F.B.I. sources. But Bryant and Freeh were reportedly micromanaging the S.A.C.'s and, later, the case agents Don Johnson and Diader Rosario.106107 VIEW ARTICLE PAGESOn the morning of the bombing, Watson Bryant's alarm went off at six A.M. He was going to the Olympic kayak competition on the Ocoee River with Andy Currie, a friend from his Vanderbilt University days. He learned of the bombing on the radio as he was getting ready to go to Currie's house. "Whoever has done this should be skinned alive," he told Currie. He spent the day in the country, and on Sunday he went out to run errands. When he got home, there was a message on his answering machine: "Watson, this is Richard Jewell. You may have heard that I found the bomb and people are calling me a hero. Somebody told me I might get a book contract." It had been years since Bryant had spoken to Jewell, but he did not immediately return the call; he was busy finishing up some contracts so that he could take a few days off to enjoy the Olympics.In addition, Bryant was annoyed with Jewell. After Bryant had befriended him in their days at the Small Business Administration, Jewell had borrowed his new, $250 radar detector and never returned it. He had promised to pay him $100 for it, but he never had. In the meantime, Bryant's life had changed; he had set up an office as a solo practitioner. Bryant despised corporate politics and had no gift for them. His penchant for taking on pro-bono work for friends annoyed his wife, however. Bryant believed that Richard Jewell had attached himself to him years earlier because he lacked a father, but nevertheless Jewell could get on his nerves. By the summer of 1996, Bryant was preoccupied; his marriage had come apart two years earlier, and he was trying to sort out his life.When he finally returned Jewell's phone call, he said, "Well, damn it, where's my $100?" Jewell laughed uneasily and told him about discovering the green backpack that contained the bomb. "Didn't you see me on the news?" Bryant reminded him that he rarely watched TV. "I am proud of you, Richard," he said. "About this book contract, I think it's far-fetched, but don't sign anything unless I see it first."In the Newsweek cover story detailing the bombing, published Monday, July 29, there was no mention of Richard Jewell. It said only that "a security guard" had alerted Tom Davis of the G.B.I. that no one had claimed the backpack under his bench. By the time Newsweek was on the stands, however, Jewell had been interviewed on CNN. The AT&T publicity department had booked him on TV and told him to wear the shirt with the AT&T logo. Jewell reluctantly agreed. "The idea of going on TV made me nervous," he told me. "I was not the hero. There were so many others who saved lives."In Demorest, Ray Cleere, the president of Piedmont College, was home on Saturday, July 27, watching CNN. Cleere had at one time been Mississippi's commissioner of higher education, but he was now posted at the rural Baptist mountain school. He was said to feel that he had suffered a loss of status in the boondocks, where he was out of the academic mainstream. He called Dick Martin, his chief of campus police. Shouldn't they call the F.B.I. and tell them about Richard Jewell? he asked. Cleere had had a strong disagreement with Jewell when one of the students was caught smoking pot. Jewell wanted to arrest him; Cleere said no. Cleere, Brad Mattear recalled, "worried constantly about the image of the college." According to Mattear, "Cleere loved the limelight. He wanted public attention"—the very trait he reportedly ascribed to Richard Jewell.Dick Martin, who was fond of Jewell, suggested a compromise, according to Lin Wood: he would call a friend in the G.B.I. Cleere then called the F.B.I. hot line in Washington himself. Wood says Cleere later complained that no one had seemed to want to listen to what he had to say about Richard Jewell. But his telephone call would trigger a complex set of circumstances in Habersham County, where F.B.I. investigators fanned out over the hills, attempting to uncover evidence that could lead to Jewell's arrest. "The F.B.I. took his word, and what it actually did was get them both in a bunch of trouble," Mattear said. (Cleere has declined to comment.)For Richard Jewell, Tuesday, July 30, would become a haze in which his life was turned upside down. "The hours of the day ran so fast it is hard to remember what all happened," he told me. He started the day early at the Atlanta studio of the Today show. He was tired; the evening before he had had his friend Tim Attaway, a G.B.I. agent, for dinner. He had made lasagna and had drawn Attaway a diagram of the sound-and-light tower. Jewell had talked into the night about the bombing; only later would he learn that Attaway was wearing a wire.Despite the late evening, Jewell was excited at the thought of meeting Katie Couric and being interviewed about finding the Alice pack in the park. His mother asked him to try to get Tom Brokaw's autograph. "He was a man my mom respected a great deal," he said.When he got back to the apartment, he was surprised to see a cluster of reporters in the parking lot. "Do you think you are a suspect?" one asked. Jewell laughed. "I know they'll investigate anyone who was at the park that night," he said. "That includes you-all too." Jewell did not turn on the TV, but he noticed that the group outside the door continued to grow. At four that afternoon, Jewell received a phone call from Anthony Davis, the head of the security company Jewell worked for at AT&T. "Have you seen the news?" Davis asked. "They are saying you are a suspect." Jewell said, "They are talking to everybody." According to Jewell, Davis said, "They are zeroing in on you. To keep the publicity down, don't go to work."Within minutes, Don Johnson and Diader Rosario knocked on Jewell's door. They exuded sincerity, Jewell recalled. "They told me they wanted me to come with them to headquarters to help them make a training film to be used at Quantico," he said. Johnson played to Jewell's pride. Despite the reporters in the parking lot and the call from Anthony Davis, Jewell had no doubt that they were telling the truth. He drove the short distance to F.B.I. headquarters in Buckhead in his own truck, but he noticed that four cars were following him. "The press is on us," Jewell told Johnson when they arrived. "No, those are our guys," Johnson told him. This tactic would continue through the next 88 days and be severely criticized: Why would you have an armada of surveillance vehicles stacked up on a suspected bomber?It was then that Jewell started to wonder why he was at the F.B.I., but he followed Johnson and Rosario inside. Rosario was known for his skills as a negotiator; he had once helped calm a riot of Cuban prisoners in Atlanta. Johnson, however, had a reputation for overreaching. In Albany, New York, in 1987, he had pursued an investigation of then mayor Thomas Whalen. According to Whalen, the local U.S. attorney found no evidence to support Johnson's assertions and issued a letter to Whalen exonerating him completely, but Whalen believed it cost him an appointment as a federal judge.As Jewell sat in a small office, he wondered why the cameraman recording the interview was staring at him so intently. After an hour, Johnson was called out of the room. When he returned, he said to Jewell, "Let's pretend that none of this happened. You are going to come in and start over, and by the way, we want you to fill out this waiver of rights.""At that moment a million things were going through my head," Jewell told me. "You don't give anyone a waiver of rights unless they are being investigated. I said, 'I need to contact my attorney,' and then all of a sudden it was an instant change. 'What do you need to contact your attorney for? You didn't do anything. We thought you were a hero. Is there something you want to tell us about?'" Jewell grew increasingly apprehensive and later recalled thinking, These guys think I did this.When the agents took a break, Jewell asked to use the phone. "I called Watson four times. I called his brother. I told his parents that I had to get hold of Watson—it was urgent. I was, like, 'I have to speak to him right now.' What was going on was that Washington was on the phone with Atlanta. The people in Washington were giving them questions." Jewell said he knew this because the videotapes in the cameras were two hours long and "Johnson and Rosario would leave every 30 minutes, like they had to speak on the phone." The O.RR. report, however, would assert that no one at headquarters knew about the videotaping or the training-film ruse. Lying to get a statement out of a suspect is, in fact, not illegal, but clearly Johnson and Rosario were not making decisions on their own. Even the procedure of having a fleet of cars follow a suspect was an intimidation tactic used by the F.B.I. Later, according to Jewell, Johnson and Rosario would both tell him privately that they believed he was innocent, but that the investigation was being run by the "highest levels in Washington."Within the bureau, the belief is that during one of the telephone calls Freeh instructed Johnson and Rosario to read Jewell his Miranda rights. Freeh is said to have learned of Johnson's history from a member of his security detail, who had worked in Atlanta. He told Freeh that "Johnson had a reputation for being obnoxious and a problem." In addition, a week after Jewell's interview, Freeh reportedly received a call from Janet Reno, who had learned about the ruse from Kent Alexander, the local U.S. attorney, and Deputy Attorney General Jamie Gorelick. Freeh wondered aloud how it was that, of all the agents in Atlanta, Johnson had been selected to work on the Jewell case. Like Jewell, Johnson had wound up in Atlanta because of his overzealous behavior—according to an F.B.I. source, the Whalen episode had resulted in a "loss-of-effectiveness transfer," an F.B.I. euphemism. (Johnson declined to respond.)On that same Tuesday, Watson Bryant and Nadya Light closed the office early and went to Centennial Park. Light, 35, a pretty Russian immigrant, had never met Radar, Bryant's old friend, and wanted to buy him a celebratory meal. Killing time until Jewell came on duty, they went into the House of Blues and then bought some hot sauce. Walking toward his car, Bryant saw newsboys hawking the afternoon edition of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. "It was like out of a cartoon. They were all yelling!" he recalled. "I caught the headline out of the corner of my eye." The headline read: FBI SUSPECTS 'HERO' GUARD MAY HAVE PLANTED BOMB.Bryant borrowed 50 cents from Light to buy the paper and began to read: '"Richard Jewell, 33 . . . fits the profile of the lone bomber.' I could not believe it."At that moment, Bryant's brother, Bruce, who was on his way to the diving competition, got a call from Jewell. "Where is Watson?" As Bruce Bryant walked past a Speedo billboard with a TV screen, he saw Richard Jewell's face filling the screen. "Oh, my God," he said to his wife. At the same moment, Watson was in his car a block away on Northside Drive when he too noticed the Speedo screen. He could not get back to his house—the streets were blocked off for the cycling competition. From his car he called F.B.I. headquarters and demanded to speak to Jewell. "He is not here," the operator said. From his home phone, he picked up his messages and heard Jewell's low, urgent tones. "He didn't leave a number," Bryant told Light. "Call Star 69," she said. The number came back: 679-9000, the number for F.B.I. headquarters, which he had just dialed. Within minutes, Bryant had Jewell on the phone. Jewell told him he was making a training film. "You idiot! You are a suspect. Get your ass out of there now!" Bryant told him.Before The Atlanta Journal-Constitution broke the story of Richard Jewell, there had been a debate in the newsroom over whether or not to name him. One block away, CNN's Art Harris and Henry Schuster had alerted the network's president that Jewell was targeted, but they held the story, because they understood its potential magnitude. At The A.J.C., Kathy Scruggs, a police reporter, who had allegedly gotten a tip from a close friend in the F.B.I., got a confirmation from someone in the Atlanta police. According to the managing editor, John Walter, the first edition of the paper that Tuesday had a brief profile of Jewell. It was dropped in later editions as Walter questioned whether the paper had enough facts to support the scoop. Because of the voice-of-God style, the paper ended up making a flat-out statement: "Richard Jewell . . . fits the profile of the lone bomber."When I asked John Walter about the lone-bomber sentence, he said, "I ultimately edited it. . . . One of the tests we put to the material is, is it a verifiable fact?" One editor added, "The whole story is voice-of-God. . . . Because we see this event taking place, the need to attribute it to sources—F.B.I. or law enforcement—is less than if there is no public acknowledgment." John Walter indicated that he had not seen a lone-bomber profile. I asked him, "Whose profile of a lone bomber does Richard Jewell fit? Where is the 'says who' in this sentence?" Walter said that he felt comfortable with the assertion.The page-one story had a double byline: Kathy Scruggs and Ron Martz. Walter had told these two early on that they would be the reporters assigned to any Olympic catastrophe. Martz, who had covered the Gulf War, had been assigned the security beat for the Olympics; Scruggs routinely covered local crime. Scruggs had good contacts in the Atlanta police, and she was tough. She was characterized as "a police groupie" by one former staff member. "Kathy has a hard edge that some people find offensive," one of her editors told me, but he praised her skills. Police reporters are often "dictation pads" for local law enforcement; recently the American Journalism Review sharply criticized The A.J. C. for the scanty confirmation and lack of skepticism in its coverage of Jewell.The newsroom atmosphere resembled that at F.B.I. headquarters; there was a frenzy to be first. Kent Walker, a newsroom intern, published a story in the same edition, with a glaring mistake in the headline: BOMB SUSPECT HAD SOUGHT LIMELIGHT, PRESS INTERVIEWS. Since Ray Cleere's tip to the F.B.I., the "hero bomber" theory had been circulating among Atlanta law enforcement officers. Maria Elena Fernandez, a reporter, was sent to Habersham County on July 29. By coincidence, William Rathburn, the head of security for the Olympics, had been at the Los Angeles Olympics in 1984 when a fake bomb was found on a bus—left by a policeman who sought attention.On the surface, the story had an irresistible newsroom logic: Jewell was clearly looking for recognition. Bert Roughton, the city editor, had answered the telephone when a representative from AT&T called to ask if the paper would like a Jewell interview. According to Walter, Roughton himself typed a sentence in the Scruggs-and-Martz piece: "He [Jewell] also has approached newspapers, including The Atlanta JournalConstitution, seeking publicity for his actions." But he hadn't. Walter explained, "There was nothing wrong with that sentence. That's journalistically proper. It is not common practice, to my knowledge, to ask someone you are interviewing . . . 'Are you here of your own free will?'" Jewell had not contacted the paper—a fact which would have been easy enough to check. Walter became snappish when I described the sentence as "a mistake." "It was not a mistake," he said angrily. Scruggs and Martz quoted Piedmont College president Ray Cleere as backup. According to Cleere, Jewell had been "a little erratic" and "almost too excitable."There was no doubt raised by The A.J.C. about the value of Cleere's information or the fragility of the F.B.I.'s potential case. On Tuesday morning, July 30, Christina Headrick, a young intern on the paper, was sent to Buford Highway to stake out Richard Jewell's apartment. She phoned in that there were men doing surveillance. By deadline, John Walter had made a decision: he would tear up the afternoon Olympics edition and lead with Jewell.Several states away, Colonel Robert Ressler was watching CNN when the A.J.C. extra edition was shown. Ressler, who was retired from the behavioral-science unit of the F.B.I., had, along with John Douglas, developed the concept of criminal-personality profiling. He was the co-author of the Crime Classification Manual, which is used by the F.B.I. He had interviewed Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and John Wayne Gacy, and as he watched the TV report, he was mystified. "They were talking about an F.B.I. profile of a hero bomber, and I thought, What F.B.I. profile? It rather surprised me." According to Ressler, the definition of "hero homicide"—a person looking for recognition without an intent to kill— perhaps emerged as "hero bomber." "There is no such classification as the hero bomber," he told me recently. "This was a myth." Later he said, "It occurred to me that there was no database of any bomber who lived with his mother, was a security guard and unmarried. How many hero bombers had we ever encountered? Only one that I know of, in Los Angeles, and his bomb did not go off." Ressler knew that something was off; profiles are developed from a complex set of evidence and facts derived only in part from a crime scene. The bomb had been deadly, which was not consistent with the "hero complex." Furthermore, he wondered, where did they get the information to put the profile together that fast? He asked himself, What came first here, the chicken or the egg? Was the so-called profile actually developed from the circumstances, or was it invented for Richard Jewell?When Jewell returned home from F.B.I. headquarters just before eight P.M., NBC was showing special Olympic coverage. He sat on the sofa and watched Tom Brokaw say, "They probably have enough to arrest him right now, probably enough to prosecute him, but you always want to have enough to convict him as well. There are still holes in this case."Jewell knew that Brokaw was his mother's favorite newsman; he looked at her and noticed "the color and the blood flow out of her face when she heard that." Bobi turned to him and asked, "What is he talking about?" Jewell later recalled, "Brokaw was talking about her son as a murderer. . . . She started crying, and what am I going to say to her? 'Mom, Watson is going to fix this'? What do you say? She doesn't hear anything anyway—she was in hysterics." At that point, Jewell said, he broke down as well.The day Watson Bryant inadvertently became the lead lawyer for Richard Jewell, he was an attorney whom almost no one in the Atlanta legal establishment had ever heard of. "Who the hell is Watson Bryant?" a caption in the daily legal sheet, the Fulton County Daily Report, would read after he had appeared on the Today show. Bryant understood Jewell's vulnerability and decided on a strategy: he would treat him as a member of his own family. In Atlanta, the Bryants were a clan: Watson's father, Goble Bryant, had been a West Point tackle, on the 1949 college all-star team; his grandfather had invented a process for putting handles on paper bags. Watson had partied through Vanderbilt University and had barely gotten accepted to law school at the University of South Carolina. He had a close relationship with his brother, Bruce, and their sister, Barbara Ann, and if he lacked staff at his office, he knew he could count on his family to pick up the slack. Bruce enlisted Jewell to help coach his junior football team; Watson had a picnic for Richard and Bobi at his parents' house at the Atlanta Country Club.When Bryant arrived at the Jewells' apartment that night, he pushed his way through the crowd standing outside in the spongy Atlanta humidity. Microphones were shoved in his face. "What is happening, Watson?" Bobi asked him. Bryant asked Jewell to speak to him alone. "I want to know if you can tell me, without any hesitation at all, if you had anything to do with the bombing," he said. "I didn't," Jewell told him. "I said, 'I am going to ask you again.' He would not look me in the eye. I said, 'Don't give me this "sir" shit.' I said, 'Richard, these people want to kill you. I cannot help you unless you tell me the absolute, unequivocal truth.' I was in his face. He said he did not have anything to do with it." Jewell was bewildered and numb, said Bryant, who left at 10:30 P.M. At midnight, Jewell called him to say, "They are massing outside the apartment, Watson."The next morning, Bryant went from talk show to talk show, starting with NBC. With the notable exception of The New York Times, virtually every newspaper in the country had picked up the A.J.C. story and run it as front-page news. There were 10,000 reporters in Atlanta; the Los Angeles Times would later call the squad bearing down on the Jewells "a massive strike force . . . Tora! Tora! Tora!" Bryant was in a daze, but he held his own. "Is it true that Jewell was at some time ordered to seek psychological counseling?" Bryant Gumbel asked him. "I know a lot of people that ought to have psychological counseling," Watson Bryant replied.By 10 A.M. he was back at the Jewells' apartment, studying a search warrant that had been delivered that day. The F.B.I., Jewell recalled, said that he could not be inside the apartment during the search. Bryant called F.B.I. headquarters: "What the hell is this? Why can't he be there?" Within an hour, at least 40 members of the F.B.I. had arrived, with dogs. "There was a physical-evidence team. There was a scientific team. There was a team for the bomb-squad people, and then the A.T.F. . . . They all had different-color shirts. Light blue for bombs, dark blue for evidence protection, red and yellow." Bryant could not believe what he was seeing. "This is like damn Six Flags over Georgia," he told them."I kept saying to Watson, 'I didn't do this.' And he said, 'Hey, kid, I believe you—we are doing what we can.'" Jewell was a gun collector. Bryant was sharp with him: "You get all those guns out of your closets and put them on your bed. We don't want any trouble."For seven hours, Jewell sat outside on the staircase in what has become one of the most famous images of last summer. Bryant had to take his daughter, Meredith, to the Olympic equestrian competition, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her. As he left, he said, "Don't do anything stupid. Just shut up and let them do what they have to do." Hours passed as Jewell sat in the heat. "Finally I decided I would ask them if I could go in and use the rest room. They said, 'We got the order a couple of hours ago you could come in; you just can't get in our way.'" Jewell was told he had to wear rubber socks and gloves in order not to contaminate the site. The Jewell apartment is small—two bedrooms with a bathroom in between, a living room, an alcove dining room that has been turned into a den. As Jewell sat on the sofa, he thought he heard a crash in his bedroom. "I thought my CD player was on the floor, and I said, 'What are you-all tearing up?' and they said, 'You can't go in there right now; we are searching.' I said, 'I want to know what you-all just broke.'" One search warrant listed some 200 items the F.B.I. could confiscate, including "magazines, books . . . and photographs which would include descriptive information such as telephone numbers, addresses, affiliations and contact points of individuals involved in a conspiracy to manufacture, transport and . . . detonate . . . the explosive device used in the bombing at the Olympic Centennial Park on July 27, 1996.""They had all my pictures, all the stuff that was in the drawers. My personal things. How would you like to know that 12 different guys had been in your underwear, laid it out on the floor, probably walked on it and then folded it back up like nothing ever happened and put it in your drawer? So then Mom got to go and watch it on TV: 'Live from the Jewell house, the search continues. . . . We are expecting an arrest any minute.'"When Bobi Jewell returned home, the apartment appeared neat, until she walked into her kitchen. She looked down at her counters, where all her condiments, dog biscuits, spices, and crackers had been taken out of their Tupperware containers and placed in Ziploc bags. She began to cry. And then she went into the bedroom and "immediately started washing clothes," Jewell said.Driving home from the equestrian events, Bryant heard the live coverage of the search on the radio. "Why are you helping this guy if he's guilty?" Meredith asked.The next morning, Bryant received a copy of the F.B.I. inventory of articles confiscated in the apartment. On the list he was stunned to see "one hollowed-out hand grenade, ball-shaped" and "one hollowed-out hand grenade, pinecone-shaped." "What the hell is this?" he asked Jewell. "They were paperweights," Jewell said. "I bought them at a military store." "Oh, shit," Bryant said.For the first few days, the Jewells lived on ham omelettes; a neighbor had brought them half a ham from the Honey Baked Ham Company on Buford Highway. Bobi Jewell had a vacation scheduled, so she remained at home, lying on the bed and "listening to the ball game if it was on." For two weeks, she cleaned out her bureau drawers. Richard would spend the day watching CNN or movies such as Backdraft and Midnight Run. "I would look out the window and see about 150 to 200 press people. Then it would drop to five or six on the hill. They had one person sitting up there at all times with their binoculars." Richard believed they were being monitored. "They heard everything that was going on. They were over there with high-intensity zoom lenses. They had people over there who could read lips. They had a sound dish. They could hear everything that we said. They had a person writing down everything we said. I saw them."When Bobi walked out the door, Jewell said, they would holler obscenities and yell, 'You should both die'Once, Bobi's cat jumped on the window ledge under the curtain and the photographers began frenetically shooting pictures, believing that one of the Jewells was in the window. Sound trucks and boom microphones prevented the neighbors from getting near the apartment. Three F.B.I. agents were usually sitting near the tiny swimming pool; each time Jewell or his mother left the house, a cavalcade of unmarked cars would follow. Richard soon began to write a speech describing the horror he felt at being falsely accused. He ate grilled-cheese sandwiches, huge pans of lasagna, and can after can of Campbell's tomato soup."If my mom and I had something we wanted to talk about that we didn't want anyone to hear, we wrote it on pieces of paper. When she left to go to work the next day, she would take it with her, tear it up, and put it in the trash! That is how I kept my mother informed about what was going on with the case." The notes were specific: "What the Justice Department was saying, what my attorneys were hearing through the grapevine that I could tell my mom that was not privileged. It was mainly stuff like 'Keep the faith' and 'Can I borrow $10 for gas in the truck?' "Jewell described how, when his mother would walk out the door, "they would holler obscenities at her. They would yell, 'Did he do it? Did he blow those people up?' They would yell, 'You should both die.'" According to Jewell, "The cameramen were just trying to get us aggravated so they could get it on camera. You don't know how hard it is when they are saying stuff about my mother and me. . . . All she was trying to do was walk her dog. And she cannot do that without hearing that yelling. When someone did that to my mother, I would want to be up on the hill calling the police, because I would want them arrested. I was going to say, 'Mom, tell me which one said that!' And I was going to walk up to that person and introduce myself and say, 'Hi, my name is Richard Jewell. What is yours? Who do you work for? Who is your supervisor?' And I was going to go home and call 911 to get a warrant."By disposition, Jewell is a night person, but he would get up early when his mother went back to work and make her breakfast. By 11 A.M. he would be playing Mortal Kombat II and listening to 96 Rock on the radio, where one of his friends is a disc jockey. Four days into his period of captivity, he called the DeKalb County police. He recalled telling a Mr. Brown, "'This is Richard Jewell. I am sure you are aware of my situation over on Buford Highway.' He said, 'Yes, Richard, I know.' I said, 'I just want to tell you my situation. Number one: I did not do this. Number two: I am here and I am not leaving the apartment for any reason at all.' I said that all the press was doing right now was aggravating my mother and disturbing my neighbors, and I would really appreciate it if the neighbors could return to a normal life."On Saturday, August 3, as Bryant stared at the F.B.I. agent plucking Jewell's hair, he had already made a decision. "It was, like, screw it. I had had it." The next day was the closing ceremony of the Olympics; Bryant imagined that that would be the day the government might choose to arrest Jewell. "Who is the best criminal lawyer in Georgia?" he asked a state lawyers' association. Within a day, he had brought in Jack Martin, an expert on the federal death penalty and a Harvard law school graduate with close ties to the local U.S. attorney, Kent Alexander. "Let me tell you something about myself," Jewell told him in their first meeting. "I hate criminal lawyers." "Well, Richard," Martin said, "I don't much like cops, but sometimes I need one, and this is a time you sure need a criminal lawyer."That weekend, watching the Olympic basketball finals, Bryant had an idea: he wanted to be prepared with his own polygraph test of Jewell if the F.B.I. arrested him. From the game, Bryant called a close friend who was a former federal prosecutor. "Try Richard Rackleff," he said. "We worked together on the Walter Moody bombing case." Rackleff had recently set up a private practice, and he agreed to test Jewell the next day. On Sunday morning, Bryant was up early, unable to sleep. He drove around town, making calls from his cell phone. He dialed 679-9000—the F.B.I. "This is Watson Bryant. I am going to pick up Richard Jewell. I just want you to know that. I don't have a white Bronco. I don't have a wig, and I don't have cash in my car. We are just going to my office."Watson had coordinated an elaborate plan with his brother to dodge reporters; he would use a decoy and snake through a parking garage. Rackleff had been instructed to park blocks from Bryant's office, because his car could be identified easily, since he was well known in Atlanta law enforcement.When Rackleff sat down with Richard Jewell in the conference room, he later told me, he sensed almost immediately that Jewell was innocent. Rackleff had tested many bombers before, including Walter Moody, who was convicted of killing a federal judge. "They are strange ducks—they leave their attorneys cold," Rackleff said. Although no one knew Rackleff was in the building, more than 100 reporters gathered outside to get a look at Jewell. Inside, Jack Martin, Bryant, Nadya Light, and Jewell spent 12 hours in Bryant's office. Rackleff asked Jewell a series of questions, but the test was inconclusive. "Richard is tormented. He is exploding on the inside," Rackleff said. While he was testing him, CNN's Art Harris was visible through the window of Bryant's office, but he could not see inside. Bryant was thoroughly deflated, close to despair. "You have got to try to buck Richard up," Rackleff told him. "Who is going to buck me up?" Bryant asked.'We are not in missile range of arresting Richard Jewell, but we want him to take our own polygraph," Kent Alexander told Bryant and Jack Martin in their first meeting on the case. In the meantime, Rackleff had tested Jewell again, and he had passed with "no deception," the highest rating. By this time, it was clear that there was no damning evidence against Jewell discovered at the apartment or in his old house in Habersham County.Alexander was only 38, but he had been groomed for politics in a fancy local family. His father was a senior partner in a good Atlanta law firm, and he had worked as an intern for Senator Sam Nunn. Bryant worried about Alexander's lack of experience, but Alexander told colleagues that he was disturbed by the lack of substantial evidence against Jewell. He was trying to operate with decency, but he was cautious and had to check every detail with Washington.Bryant, however, didn't trust Alexander; he had had a bad experience with Alexander's predecessor. In 1990, Bryant had almost been put out of business in a tussle with the then U.S. attorney. The local Small Business Administration accused a bank Bryant represented of improper use of funds; the bank blamed Bryant, who was brought before a grand jury and over the next two years almost lost his practice. He spent $50,000 defending himself, and Nadya Light had to take another job, but eventually the case was settled with Bryant's agreeing not to do business with the S.B.A. for 18 months. Bryant had always felt that he had been manhandled by the office. "I learned everything I needed to know about dealing with this office in 1990," Bryant recalled telling Alexander. "No polygraph for Richard."At the meeting, Alexander told Bryant and Martin, "This is all off-the-record. This is a request that is strictly confidential." Weeks later, Louis Freeh came to town to address a breakfast of former F.B.I. agents. Almost immediately, the polygraph request was reported on CNN. "Kent, I thought we had an agreement," Bryant told him. "I cannot control Washington," Alexander said.When two of the bomb-blast victims sued Richard Jewell, Bryant brought in Wood and Grant to handle the civil litigation. Martin opposed the move. He believed in the cone of silence: "Circle the wagons and don't speak." He said that Wood and Grant had a different perspective: Attack, attack, and if you give any quarter, it is a sign of weakness. Martin had been reassured in private by Kent Alexander that Jewell was not in any immediate danger of being arrested, but the team disagreed about press tactics. Martin worked through the Atlanta-establishment back channels; Lin Wood was a rhetoric man. He favored "one big newsbreak a week." "You know who wrote the book Masters of Deceit? J. Edgar Hoover! And that was about the Communist Party in America. So now they have gone from masters of investigation to masters of deceit!" he would routinely tell reporters who called.Three days after Wood and Grant surfaced as the two new civil lawyers, a Ford van with a tinted bubble-shaped window appeared on the top level of the Macy's parking garage which faced the conference-room windows of their offices. According to Wood, the van did not move for 10 days. "We used to sit there and wave at it." Then the lawyers placed a camera in the window, and the next day the vehicle was gone. "For sure that van had laser sound-detecting equipment," Wood said.Jewell was annoyed that press descriptions of him always emphasized his "overzealousness"; he considers himself a man of details. Often, when he's watching movies at home, he freeze-frames in order to study props in scenes. The second weekend he was considered a suspect, he told me, "I walked in and I noticed white powder all over the telephone table in the conference room." It was a Saturday morning, and Jewell had been with his lawyers until late the night before. He told me he was convinced that the F.B.I. "had lifted a ceiling tile," and that the white powder was "dust that came down." Bryant and Jewell made light of it and did not sweep their phones, believing that any tap the F.B.I. would use would be of a laser or satellite variety and impossible to trace. "In the beginning of every conversation, Watson would curse for about a minute and tell them what lowlives they were. And then he would say, 'By the way, this is Richard's lawyer. Y'all can cut your tape players off,"' Jewell said. "I would call them dirty scumbags," said Bryant. But the local U.S. attorney, Kent Alexander, insisted that their phones were not tapped. "There are no wiretap warrants," he said.The F.B.I. did turn up one bit of potentially troublesome evidence in the Jewells' apartment—fragments of a fence that had been blown up in the explosion. After a telephone conversation with Watson Bryant, Kathy Scruggs quoted him saying, "Yes, he did have a sample of the blown-up bomb." Bryant accused her of egregiously misquoting him. He remembered saying to her, "Yes, Richard had souvenirs of the bombing." Scruggs had not taped their conversation. "She cut the 'ing' off of 'bomb,'" Bryant later told me, but Scruggs strongly denies this. The day the story broke, Bryant criticized Scruggs on local radio. That afternoon she appeared at his office to attempt to clear up the misunderstanding. "I don't like your reporting," Bryant recalled telling her. "I'm human, too," she said. The next day, Ron Martz inserted a quote from Bryant in an unrelated news story: "Oh, man, it's not even a scrap of the bomb—it's a piece of damned fence, for God's sake." But the quote would have little impact. Scruggs's version had been picked up; gathering force, it was eventually related by Bill Press on Crossfire on the evening of October 28: "The guy was seen with a homemade bomb at his home a few days before." (The next day CNN would be forced to apologize for the mistake.)By this time Bryant had grown enraged by the media coverage. The New York Post had called Jewell "a Village Rambo" and "a fat, failed former sheriff's deputy." Jay Leno had said that Jewell "had a scary resemblance to the guy who whacked Nancy Kerrigan," and asked, "What is it about the Olympic Games that brings out big fat stupid guys?" The A.J. C. s star columnist, Dave Kindred, had compared Jewell to serial murderer Wayne Williams: "Like this one, that suspect was drawn to the blue lights and sirens of police work. Like this one, he became famous in the aftermath of murder."Television journalism was also a revelation to Bryant; he felt he had "landed on Mars," and spent hours channel-surfing. On CNN, one criminologist said "it was possible" that Jewell had a hero complex. Bryant told his brother, Bruce, "I know I am going to sue someone. I just don't know who." Bruce Bryant searched for Jewell's name on the Internet three weeks into his ordeal and found 10,000 stories. The tone many of the journalists took was accusatory and pre-determined, with a few rare exceptions, such as that of CBS correspondent Jim Stewart. "Don't jump to any conclusion yet," he said sharply in a broadcast at the height of the frenzy.In his first week as Jewell's lawyer, Bryant went to the CNN studio to be interviewed by Larry King. After the broadcast, he was asked to stop in at the office of CNN president Tom Johnson. "They wanted to know what I thought of their reporting so far." Art Harris was in the room. "I turned around and I said to Art Harris, 'Who the hell are you and the rest of the media to make fun of how Richard Jewell and his mother live? Who are you to make fun of working people who live in a $470-a-month apartment? Is there something wrong with that? Who are you to say that he is a weirdo because he lives with his mother?' "According to Jack Martin, the F.B.I. spent weeks on one erroneous early theory—that Richard Jewell was an enraged homosexual cop-hater who had been aided in the bombing by his lover. Jewell had purportedly planted the bomb; the lover then made the 911 phone call warning that it would go off in Centennial Park. The rationale behind this idea was that Jewell was "mad at the cops and wanted to kill other cops," Martin told me.The rumor began at Piedmont College, perhaps invented by several of the students Jewell had turned in for smoking pot, but it had a chilling consequence. In mid-August, three agents appeared at the Curtis Mathes video store in Cornelia, where Chris Simmons, a senior at Piedmont, worked part-time. Simmons, a friend of Jewell's, who was engaged to be married, was a B student, but he displayed the same porcine blankness as Jewell and spoke in a slow drawl. He had a deep distrust of the government and carried a card in his pocket that read: CHRISTOPHER DWAYNE SIMMONS-CAMPAIGN SUPPORT FOR CONSERVATIVE CANDIDATES.The agents questioned Simmons in the store for one and a half hours. "They asked me if I was a homosexual. They asked me if I had accessed the Internet. . . . They later wanted to wire me. They said, 'If he is really a hero, we will find out, and if not, he has killed someone and injured a lot of people.' " Simmons was short with the agents and denied everything. They accused him of lying and said they could take him to Atlanta. The agents told someone Simmons had once worked with that Simmons might be involved in the bombing. "They kept wording questions differently. They kept saying: Do you think Richard Jewell could have done this if he believed that he could get people out in time and nobody would get hurt?" Simmons later called one of the F.B.I. agents and said, "I hear you don't believe my story." He recalled their conversation: " 'I think you are sugarcoating your answers,' he said. I said, 'Next time I talk with you, it will be with a lawyer.' And he asked me if I was threatening him. Then he hung up on me." Ultimately, Simmons volunteered to take a polygraph, which he says he passed. "I was a nervous wreck," he said. "I had only seen this on TV."What was not known outside a small circle of investigators was how deadly the Centennial Park bomb really was. It was well constructed, with a piece of metal shaped like a V, and inside, it had canisters filled with nails and screws. Jack Martin, who had spent time in Vietnam, compared its construction to that of a claymore mine, a sophisticated and lethal device. The bomb weighed more than 40 pounds. It was "a shaped charge," F.B.I. deputy director Weldon Kennedy would announce in December. It could blast out fragments from three separate canisters, but only one of the canisters exploded on July 27. Someone had moved the Alice pack slightly before the bomb detonated, causing most of the shrapnel to shoot into the sky. The composition of the bomb did not suggest the work of an amateur, Kathy Scruggs would ironically later report, after interviewing an A.T.F. chemist.As the weeks went by, Richard Jewell withdrew into a state of psychological limbo; he began to try to analyze what the agents might think of his behavior within the small apartment. "I would be watching a spy show on TV or something like a John Wayne movie. Someone would be talking about blowing something up, and I would think to myself, My God, that is going to sound really bad if they think I am listening to that." He worried that "they would think I was some kind of a nut," and often, when he could not sleep, he would find himself consciously switching to exercise videos and soap operas.Over Labor Day weekend, he drove up to Habersham County for a picnic with his ex-girlfriend's family, the Chastains. As usual, three F.B.I. cars followed him, but he had gotten adept at picking out the unmarked vehicles. As Jewell drove into town, he noticed that white ribbons hung from hundreds of trees; the Chastains had organized a campaign in his behalf. On the way home, Jewell drove with his friend Dave Dutchess. For the first time, he did not see an F.B.I. car following him, but he noticed an airplane flying low overhead. He drove another 20 miles, and the plane was still on him. "I said, 'Dave, do you think the F.B.I. would be following us in an airplane? It wouldn't be that hard to do, if they put some kind of beeper on the car.'" The plane followed them through Gainesville all the way to Atlanta—an hour's drive. "Just to make sure, we got off on an exit ramp and went about five miles back north. And I got out and took a picture. They followed us all the way back to the apartment! And they circled the apartment for about 15 minutes, until the F.B.I. car showed back up. I got very emotional. My cheeks got beet red. And Mom came home and said, 'What is going on? What is the matter?' It just destroyed the whole day."On September 2, Dave Dutchess and his fiancee, Beatty, were driving to their house in Tennessee. It was raining hard, and they noticed they were being followed by several F.B.I. cars. The storm grew worse, and they stopped at a hotel for the night. The next day, while getting coffee at a McDonald's, they were surrounded by F.B.I. agents. "We just want to talk to you. We are trying to be discreet." One agent, Dutchess recalled, spoke into his radio: "We have the suspect in hand." As they walked back toward their car, Dutchess said to Beatty, "They think I am his accomplice. I heard on the news they were looking for his accomplice!"After the interview, which lasted several hours, Dutchess spoke to Watson Bryant. "What did they ask you that concerns you?" Bryant asked him. "Well, I decided that I had to tell them the truth. Me and one of my friends used to set off pipe bombs for fun," Dutchess told him. "What?" Bryant exclaimed, incredulous. "Yeah, I told them we liked to throw pipe bombs down gopher holes when we lived out in West Virginia.""Did Richard know this friend?" Bryant asked apprehensively. "Hell, no. He never met him," Dutchess said, but Bryant knew that this could prolong the F.B.I.'s investigation perhaps by months. "I hung up and I was thinking, I cannot believe that I even know anyone who throws pipe bombs into gopher holes."As part of their strategy, Wood and Grant decided to mount a strong counterattack against the government. Wayne Grant had come up with the idea: Bobi Jewell should hold a press conference during the Democratic convention and make a direct plea to Bill Clinton. The day before she was to appear, Grant rehearsed her. It was difficult to work with Bobi; she was exhausted and could not stop crying. Confined under siege for almost a month, she could not see an end to it, since every day brought a new humiliation. The resident manager had threatened to take away their lease, and the manager's son was out selling pictures he took of them. A close friend from church was dying, Bobi said, and Richard could not go to see him, because of the swarm of F.B.I. agents and reporters who followed him everywhere. All of it came out in a rush in the conference room with Wayne Grant: Bobi had even had to give Bryant and Nadya Light the Olympic-basketball tickets she had won as colleague of the year, and every night she and her son were stuck together, staring at each other across the kitchen table. They were often irritable, and Richard sometimes lost his temper. "Mother, just shut up," he would tell her when she nagged him about the case. Then, Bobi later recalled, she would go into her bedroom and lie on the four-poster bed hoping that the photographers who rented an apartment across the way for $1,000 a day had no way of knowing what was going on.Grant kept careful notes on the session. Bobi was terrified about appearing in front of cameras. She sobbed and told him, "If I go on TV Monday, I'll be embarrassed. It will be, like, whenever I go anywhere, people will be looking at me: 'Did he do it or didn't he do it?' ""If you talked to the person who is in charge of the investigation, what would you say?" Grant asked her calmly. Bobi's voice was halting, but she was firm: "He is innocent. Clear his name and let us get back to a life that is normal."A few weeks later, Wayne Grant went to a party for a Bar Mitzvah, and a guest cornered him. She asked him if he had told Bobi Jewell to cry at the end of her press conference, and then added coldly, "Nice touch."The lawyers' strategy worked: after Bobi's press conference, the Jewells were deluged with interview requests. Bryant often received 100 phone calls a day. Bobi soon developed a system: letters from Oprah Winfrey, Sally Jessy Raphael, and TV producers were stacked on the console in the living room; flowers and baskets of Godiva chocolates and cheese and crackers from the networks were sent to the offices of Wood & Grant and then on to a children's hospital.At the U.S. Attorney's Office, it had become increasingly clear to Kent Alexander that something had to be done about Richard Jewell. Janet Reno had seen Bobi Jewell on TV and was moved by her sincerity. Privately, Reno and Deputy Attorney General Jamie Gorelick were said to be concerned about the heavy-handed tactics of the F.B.I. "The case had become a total embarrassment," a Justice Department official told me, but Alexander was in a complicated situation. He was working closely with the F.B.I., and there was no sign that the bureau was ready to let go, despite growing consternation among the local agents that the Washington command center had mishandled the case. And there was another problem: Alexander did not trust Lin Wood.By late September, there was a tremendous strain within the team Bryant had hastily assembled. The other lawyers accused Jack Martin of cutting private deals with his friend Kent Alexander, pulling focus, and not being tough enough. For his part, Alexander, according to Martin, admired Bryant even though he believed he was a loose cannon, but he was fed up with Lin Wood."Alexander would say something fairly candid to me, and I would report it to the attorneys, and the next day he would see it on TV," said Jack Martin. "Alexander had checked out Lin, and he knew that he was a take-no-prisoners guy." The lawyers often argued among themselves. Wood insisted on a full-blowout press-attack strategy. Bryant had mastered his sound bite: "The F.B.I. is a 500-pound gorilla who will kick the shit out of anyone." Martin wanted the lawyers to ease up on the hyperbole: "I would say, 'We do not need to do this.' And Lin would say, 'Let's go public with this.' He was manic about it." In one argument, Wood told him, "Goddamn it, Martin, you're like my ex-wives. There isn't anything you can say I won't object to."There was an atmosphere of extreme apprehension between Bryant and Jewell as they drove to F.B.I. headquarters on the afternoon of October 6. They were on their way to what would seemingly be a session with conclusional overtones, but Jewell was worried: What if this meeting was a trick? It was difficult to believe that the bureau was really ending its two-month-long investigation into his life. For weeks, Jack Martin and Bryant had been going back and forth with Kent Alexander. Finally, Jewell had agreed to an unusual suggestion: if he submitted to a lengthy voluntary interview with the bureau, and if Division 5 was satisfied, then perhaps the Justice Department could issue a letter publicly stating that he was no longer a suspect. Jewell tried to imagine the questions he would be asked. "I wanted to look at everything from their angle," he told me, "trying to assess it and reassess it in my head."On the day of Jewell's exoneration, Jay Leno apologized for having called him a Unadoofus.Kent Alexander had set a firm ground rule: Only one lawyer representing Jewell could be in the room. It had been agreed that Jack Martin, the criminal specialist, would be the man, which enraged Lin Wood. "You could really see how these guys did not like each other," Jewell said."I am not comfortable with the one-lawyer agreement," Wood told John Davis, Kent Alexander's second-in-command, when they were assembled. "We have an agreement. If you attempt to renegotiate it, I will have egg on my face," Davis said, adding, "You are not a man of your word." With that, Wood recalled, he rose from his chair and started screaming, "You are not going to say that to me, you son of a bitch!" Kent Alexander interrupted, saying, "This is deteriorating. We aim to stop this. Let's just regroup."When Jewell, Davis, and Martin finally sat down for the interview, Larry Landers, a special agent with the G.B.I., and F.B.I. special agent Bill Lewis had lists of questions with blank space for answers in front of them. On the wall of the windowless room, there were extensive aerial photographs of the park and, as a prop, an actual park bench was later brought in. Martin believed that the agents intended to resolve areas in the affidavits and other questions: Had Richard ever accessed Candyman's Candyland for information on the Anarchists' Cookbook? Had Richard picked up any pieces of pipe when the park was under construction? Had he told anyone, "Take my picture now, because I am going to be famous"? None of this had happened, Jewell said. All he could remember telling someone was that he was off to Atlanta and "going to be in that mess down there," meaning the traffic jams. They pressed him about seemingly inconsistent statements he had made on the morning of the bombing: Why had he told Agent Poor everything was normal when he checked the perimeter of the fence? Jewell explained that he had been walking the "inside of the fence." He once again explained that he had wanted to work the sound-and-light tower so that he could watch the entertainment; he had arranged for his mother to hear Kenny Rogers four days before the explosion.The area, he told Landers, was "a sweet site" and a great place to look at girls. During a break, Martin asked about all his references to women. Jewell said he wanted them to know he wasn't gay. On several occasions, Landers became annoyed: Why couldn't Jewell pin down the times? Had he seen the drunks on the bench between 10:30 and 11 or between 11 and 11:30? Why hadn't he looked at his watch? Jewell later recalled, "I said, 'I don't go through my life looking at my watch. I don't care about time. When the bomb went off, I did not look at my watch.' They were wanting to know what time I went to the bathroom and stuff like that. When you have the runs, you are not really concerned about what time it is. You are concerned with getting to the bathroom."On the day after the F.B.I. meeting, Jack Martin dictated a 27-page account of everything that had been said during the six-hour interview. In the last moments, Davis said, "he wanted to give Richard the opportunity once and for all to say that he didn't do it." Jewell, Martin wrote, "unequivocally and fortunately said that he had nothing to do with the bomb and didn't know anything about the bomb and if he did he would be the first to deliver the bastard to their door." When Martin walked out, he thought to himself, This really was a formality. They had nothing.In November a rumor swept through the newsroom of The A.J.C. that Cox newspaper executives were rethinking their news policies. According to one reporter, "The sloppiness of the Jewell reporting and the lack of sources was the last straw." A reporter named Carrie Teegardin was assigned to write a piece examining how the media spotlight was turned on Richard Jewell. In large part, her article wound up being an examination of the role of The A.J.C. After Wood and Grant threatened to sue, the article was killed. "We didn't get through the editing of it," John Walter said. "The Jewells' attorney began saying, 'We're thinking lawsuit' . . . and that made us more cautious." Meanwhile, Lin Wood and Wayne Grant were busy holding meetings with lawyers from NBC and Piedmont College. At NBC, Tom Brokaw's carelessness reportedly cost the network more than $500,000 to settle Jewell's claims, although Jewell's lawyers would not confirm a figure, BROKAW GOOFED AND NBC PAID, the New York Daily News would later headline. In talks with Ray Cleere, the figure of $450,000 by way of settlement was first suggested, then withdrawn when Piedmont College learned that it had insurance. "This will cost them millions now," Lin Wood believes.On one occasion I asked Richard Jewell if he had any theories about who might have placed the bomb. Jewell said he had popped "two or three theories off the top of my head" on the night he was interviewed by the F.B.I. "I have gone over that night hundreds of times in my head. You try to think, What type of person would do that? I know it is someone who wanted to hurt people. It is someone who is sick. I hope they find him so he can get the help he needs. Because I am totally torn up about what happened. Every day I think about it, and I will think about it for the rest of my life."Jewell often speaks with Bryant three times a day. As Jewell searches for a new job, he hangs around Bryant's office, and he recently studied handwriting analysis at the police academy. He has been offered several security jobs with Georgia companies, but he is hoping he will be hired as a Cobb County deputy. In the meantime, Bryant, Wood, and Grant have become sought-after speakers on the First Amendment.At F.B.I. headquarters in late October, Bobi Jewell broke down and cried as she identified their possessions—the Disney tapes, the Tupperware, Richard's AT&T uniforms, address books. It was a tableau of ordinary middle-class life, laid out on brown paper on a long conference-room table. "I just don't fucking believe this," Watson Bryant said angrily as he packed Bobi's videos into packing crates. "The agents tried to shake my hand," Bobi told me. "I wouldn't touch them." It took 10 hours to remove their possessions, Bobi recalled, and four minutes to return them.The F.B.I. is working on a new and elaborate theory of who did place the bomb in Centennial Park. There is an informed opinion that the backpack discovered a week earlier had in fact been a test run to check F.B.I. procedures, and that the bomber—perhaps a member of a militia group—was quite experienced and had struck before. After a torrent of criticism in the press, Louis Freeh announced that the F.B.I. had arrested Harold Nicholson, an alleged spy for Russia, and he used the opportunity to appear on the Today show and Good Morning America, hyping his role in what was a minor arrest, according to one former F.B.I. agent.In Australia in November, Bill Clinton was asked about his campaign contributions from Indonesia. "One of the things I would urge you to do, remembering what happened to Mr. Jewell in Atlanta, remembering what has happened to so many of the accusations . . . that have been made against me that turned out to be totally baseless, I just think that we ought to . . . get the facts out." When Jewell learned of his comment, he pulled up the transcript from the Internet and became angry: "The president is just using me, like everyone else."What rights does a private citizen have against the government? The legal precedent for suing the F.B.I., Bivens v. Six Unknown Agents, focuses on the behavior of individual agents. Wood believes that Jewell has a strong case against Johnson and Rosario. When Wood learned of Colonel Ressler, he hired him as a possible trial expert. In December, the F.B.I. announced that it would pay up to $500,000 to anyone who could lead it to the Olympic Park bomber.As Jewell and I drove back from Habersham County in November, he went over the early-morning hours of July 27: "I remember all of the people who were my responsibility. I remember the guys' faces who were flying through the air. I remember people screaming. The sirens going off. I don't think I will ever forget any of that. You just kind of wish sometimes. You think, Could I have done something else? . . . What if we only had five more minutes? Then maybe nobody would have been hurt. But you are what-if-ing. I have been over it a thousand times. I think we could not have done it any better. I think that is something I will always be wondering."He said he was not sure if he would ever get a job in law enforcement again, particularly since he had been held up as a cartoon figure. On the day of Jewell's exoneration, Jay Leno apologized for having called him a Unadoofus, and said, "If Jewell wins his lawsuit with NBC, he will be my new boss." He later said that this was "the greatest week in trailer-park history." The Atlanta radio station 96 Rock had put billboards of Jewell all over town; "Freebird," they said, a reference to the Lynyrd Skynyrd song. Jewell would later file suit against the station, but the billboard's message was clear. Jewell knows that for many people in America there will perhaps always be a subtle doubt: What if, after all, Richard Jewell really did do it? What if the government let him go simply because it could not make its case? Then he becomes not the innocent Richard Jewell, but the Richard Jewell who may be innocent. "You don't get back what you were originally," he told me. "I don't think I will ever get that back. The first three days, I was supposedly their hero—the person who saves lives. They don't refer to me that way anymore. Now I am the Olympic Park bombing suspect. That's the guy they thought did it. "February 1997 | Vanity Fair
“不合时宜”的咏叹调:《蓝色骨头》的灵魂火焰
冉笛/文
本文 “不合时宜”的咏叹调:《蓝色骨头》的灵魂火焰 冉笛/文 本文原载QAF中文站公众号,非经作者同意请勿转载 即使你没有看过《蓝色骨头》,导演崔健的名字总该有所耳闻。他被誉为上世纪八零年代中国摇滚音乐之父,曾以《一无所有》、《一块红布》、《快让我在雪地上撒点儿野》等作品成为一代文艺青年的领军人物。 《蓝色骨头》是崔健自编自导的第一部电影,故事取材于导演对当代中国历史社会变迁的观察与记录。比较难能可贵的是崔健切入时代的角度。对比《芳华》等热门同类题材,票房冷清的《蓝色骨头》可能是当下国内唯一一部真正意义上以边缘人的视角对几十年历史剧变的思考与表达。 作家、文艺研究学者张敞认为,《蓝色骨头》是一部基于表达冲动产生的作品。虽然是作者的处女作,但完成度很高。电影闪烁着崔健充满锋芒的个性与思想。张敞老师指出,在它之前,中国还没有任何一部电影,可以把这个时代造成的两代人的孤独表现的那么“无法与外人道”,那么近在眼前,触手可及。 电影聚焦的是一个中国家庭,母亲与儿子两代人在不同时间线的选择与命运。母亲施堰萍身份略带几分传奇色彩,她曾是某家族选妃的候选人,被誉为国内数一数二的美女。尽管美丽为母亲带来改变命运的契机,但如果可以在美貌与智慧之间做出选择,母亲更渴望以“人”而非“美女”的身份与姿态被世界认可与接纳。 母亲与多数女性不同的个性与选择也必然决定她与众不同的命运。她爱上了一个与众不同的跳芭蕾舞的男孩。男孩孙洪(陶冶饰)有着清俊绝尘的气质,但他心中却另外住着一个英秀淳朴的男孩陈东(黄轩饰)。这是电影中一条鲜为人知的同志情感线。影片上映时没有人为此做过宣传。它就像掠过湖面的一只蜻蜓,轻轻一点涟漪荡开随即消逝,在华语同志电影历史表述中也几乎难觅身影。 才出就一口气刷完8集。 很明显这不是一部传统意义上的超级英雄剧集。 你要说这是一部结合原著漫画黑暗风,顺便塞满赛斯罗根脑子里面各种恶趣味和讽刺吐槽的结合体更好。 你一眼就能在这个世界看到熟悉的影子。 虽然这里没有正义联盟,可是他们有七人队,分别是祖国人(大超)、女王梅芙(WW)、深海(海王)、火车头(小闪)、某忍者(GIJ的蛇 才出就一口气刷完8集。 很明显这不是一部传统意义上的超级英雄剧集。 你要说这是一部结合原著漫画黑暗风,顺便塞满赛斯罗根脑子里面各种恶趣味和讽刺吐槽的结合体更好。 你一眼就能在这个世界看到熟悉的影子。 虽然这里没有正义联盟,可是他们有七人队,分别是祖国人(大超)、女王梅芙(WW)、深海(海王)、火车头(小闪)、某忍者(GIJ的蛇眼?!)、隐形人还有女主星光。 比起超级英雄,他们的存在更像是明星。 要位列英雄职业生涯顶端的七人众,你不需要拯救世界,你不需要拥有别人无法企及的超能力,你只需要——通过面试。 这些最伟大的超级英雄全部隶属于一家叫沃特的超级企业。 他们,就是这家公司推出的“产品”。 你的行程、你的造型、你在公共场合所说的每一句话都是精心策划的,你的背后有整个犯罪预测部门给你制定打击罪犯的线路,你的公关团队保证着你在任何时候,并且在你搞出事情之后,帮你洗干净屁股。 你们是普通人眼中的救世主,利益相关的宗教群体不停宣称超级英雄是上帝的宠儿,是他派来拯救世界的天使;你们的支持率在完美策划下载社交媒体上居高不下,走到哪里迎接你们的都是欢呼和掌声;你们的周边一年能带来上百亿的收益,每一部主演的超级英雄电影都堪比MCU~ 这个世界,最大的明星,就是超级英雄们;最大的生意,就是超级英雄们;最接近神的,还是超级英雄们,他们就像我们当中的神灵一样, GOD AMONG US. 是的,抛开超级英雄真的拥有神力之外,这和我们的世界没什么不同,消费主义、流量控制着一切,普通人迷失在庞大臃肿的信息流当中,脑袋空空,更期待某种虚幻的力量来拯救悲剧的一生,很少有人思考,那些狂热背后,隐藏着什么样的黑暗。 男主,普普通通的大男孩吗,有点怂,有点宅,超英火车头的狂热粉丝,有一个热恋的女友,两个人对未来充满了憧憬。直到某天,嗑药嗑多了的火车头在街上把他的女友撞成了一团血浆。 他的世界开始失控,特别是当他发现,那些超级英雄甚至不觉得这算事儿,只用45000刀就想封住他的嘴的时候,那一瞬间,赤裸裸的现实撕碎了超英光环构成的帷幕,露出了尖牙利爪。 男主痛苦地做出了99%的普通人都会做的事情, 沉默。 这时候,一个叫屠夫的人找到了他,他带来了真相,在那些披风斗篷和造神运动背后赤裸裸的真相,那些超英们,只是一群彻头彻尾的混蛋而已。 男主开始经历从未经历的失控。 他信了屠夫的话,潜入沃特内部,安装窃听器,却被七人众的隐身人发现跟踪。最终为了活下去,他和屠夫联手抓住了隐身人,可是如何处理这个麻烦成了头疼的问题。 那是活生生的神灵,凡人可以囚禁,却无法杀死,他们甚至无法穿透隐身人堪比钻石硬度的皮肤。 最终法国人找到了解决方案——一个很有赛斯罗根屎屎尿尿风格的解决方案,把隐身人电晕,然后在他屁股里塞满C4。 为了应付前来查看的祖国人,他们把遥控器交到了男主手上,阴差阳错,男主最终按下了按钮, 失控在这一瞬间达到了巅峰,隐形人被炸成了漫天飞舞的血肉残渣,就像是他死去的女友一样。 他在那一刻,重获新生。 BOYS也诞生了,这个小队没有超能力,没有政府的支持,不过是一群罪犯和街边老鼠而已。 他们干掉了生涯中第一个超英混蛋,接下来他们将继续挖掘更多超英和沃特的黑料,正式向高高在上的神灵宣战。他们的初衷并不伟大,也没资格站在任何道德制高点,不是为了社会正义或者还世界一个公道, 这些对着神宣战的普通人,只是为了复仇而已。(真复仇者.JPG) 后面有一场戏,屠夫带着男主来到一个互助会,一群人讲述他们被超级英雄“间接伤害”的过程,可是他们都认为这只是某种“和神灵相处的代价。”有遗憾,却丝毫没有讨回公道的勇气和行动。屠夫对这种懦弱深恶痛绝,他怒斥然后离开。 可以说屠夫是BOYS的核心,他的执念和怒火把所有相关的人都拖进了地狱,他所做的一切都是为了毁灭祖国人,就连他自己都知道这毫不现实,但也正是这种执念和仇恨,让BOYS得以凝聚在一起,开始这场可能永远不会胜利的秘密战争。 就像现实生活中,忍无可忍的受害者和名人对簿公庭;状告某家大企业;对某个公共部门表达不满,唯一不同的是,现实中我们对抗的是高昂的律师费,时间成本还有不均等资源的碾压;而BOYS对抗的是神灵本身,一个念头,祖国人就足以让他们粉身碎骨。 这是一个古典主义的英雄故事, 疯癫的老骑士举枪冲向风车,BOYS则向诸神宣战。 可惜第一季要展示的世界观太多,BOYS队伍本身倒是没花什么笔墨,我们可以看到屠夫最终选择了和其他队友不同的道路,他憎恨一切的超英,觉得双方没有任何和解的可能,最终和其他人分道扬镳,孤狼一样发起了最后的复仇;法国人和男主都和超英结下了羁绊,他们认为还有其他可能,第二季,BOYS内部的矛盾想必是看点之一。 有意思的是,剧集花了大量笔墨来描述反派的超英。 女主星光,一个单纯的女孩,出身就带着超能力,老妈就把她当做未来的明星培养,她的成长和无数父母有明星梦的少男少女没什么两样,(隔壁马男要哭了。) 一个执着梦想的少女,终于走进了心中的圣堂,结果发现这里的一切都那么丑陋。 能被录取,不是因为她有梦想和能力,而是因为她的保守和领家女孩形象很受固定受众的欢迎;第一天就遭遇潜规则,然后发现憧憬的一切都是策划好的照本宣科,相信的一切简直像个笑话,她甚至不能决定说什么穿什么,一切都是冷冰冰的数字。 如果穿着高叉泳装一样的制服能提高15%的男性支持率,你就得给我穿上它。 大众消费着超英,他们把超英捧上神坛,他们得以在这个消费和娱乐主义至上的时代成为神祇, 另一个角度来说,超英也成了聚光灯下的奴隶。 过气的超英甚至不如狗, 比如魔爪女,她曾经红过,过气后只能在房间中挂满年轻时候的照片和剧照,一遍遍看曾经主演的电影,房租都要拖欠,就连和火车头的关系都只能是卑微而鬼祟的,见不得光。 某位前童星(这看着像是AI和第六感那位小朋友,演员表没找到,不知道是不是。) 本色出演,拥有读取他人思维的能力,作为童星,出演了大热的剧集,成年后卷入公司黑料被开除,吸毒、酗酒,就连亲女儿的监护权都丧失了。他不惜出卖了BOYS,只是想重新回到聚光灯之下,最后被屠夫杀了,一个彻头彻尾的悲剧。 就连最顶端的七人众都摆脱不了这种宿命。 隐身人玩世不恭,喜欢窥人隐私,就像是个有偷窥欲的老变态,这样一个老变态却懂得人心,看的太多,也就越无趣。和星光的闲聊让男主知道他曾经离过婚,有一个很爱的女儿,男主再无法把他当成一个那个刀枪不入的混蛋怪物。 火车头必须维持“世界上最快的人”的头衔,特别是城里来了一个比他更快的超英,他不得不在和对方的比赛中,嗑下兴奋剂,哪怕知道这会杀死自己。也从来不敢在任何公共场合公布和魔爪女的感情,在断腿退出公众视野后,所有的周边代言都变成了曾经的对手,甚至一个普通老头都无视他。 深海从来都不自信,他觉得自己是一个笑话,他不喜欢他带腮的身体,不喜欢旁人看不起他,最后他为了找到存在感做了一系列傻事儿,被公司抛弃,打发到乡下,他失去一切,不再有公关团队,不再有造型师团队和犯罪预防团队,他终于可以随意处理自己的身体和生活, 梅芙曾经和星光一样相信她能改变世界,可是见多了世界的黑暗之后,她选择视而不见,酒精和颓废的生活,她的内心还有一丝善念,所以她依旧感到矛盾和痛苦,她为祖国人的无情和自私感到愤怒,却没有办法阻止一切。 至于祖国人,他表面上是道德的化身,他是阳光、美国还有自由向上的代表。他基本就是这个世界的大超,无所不能,受人爱戴,可是只有他自己知道,他是实验的产物,他是一个产品,沃特最成功的产品。从小封闭缺爱的环境,就算他拥有神祇的力量,内心还是缺乏安全感,所以他对女BOSS有着畸恋的感情,所以他内心对一切充满憎恨。 (还有一个忍者哥们实在是太路人,没啥槽点。) 随着BOYS调查的推进,我们也得以知道, 这个世界的超级英雄们,并不是上帝的造物,都是沃特实验室的产品。 上帝的宠儿其实是人造的怪物。 理解到这一点,BOYS的世界观才真正立了起来, GODS AMONG US,这个世界的超英们拥有神力,却依然有一颗人类的心,人类可以卑劣、可以无耻、可以孤独,同样也可以伟大、可以善良、可以拥有爱。 可以是英雄,也可以是恶魔。 第一季结尾,祖国人知道了自己的身世,发现不用药物他们也能够自然繁衍,这剥夺了他身上最后的锁链,所以他杀了女BOSS,沃特再也无法控制他,想想不再有任何拘束的邪恶大超,世界可以说迎来了噩梦。想象一下,一个对世界充满恶意的孩子,手上却拿着核弹发射器的按钮。 屠夫一直以来的驱动破灭了,妻子根本没有死,他的仇恨和执念都变成一个笑话,会不会黑化成真正的屠夫,我们拭目以待。 PS:有人说这部戏还是靠暴力和性吸引眼球,我个人是不赞同的,倒不如说你是以暴力和性来吸引眼球。 首先这戏的性场面是不多的,基本上没有为了性而性的场面,开场的CLUB滥交展示了超英的虚伪;祖国人和女BOSS的畸恋让人物特质更加立体;至于星光和男主那是爱情戏。 至于暴力,有些画面确实有些夸张,比如杀隐身人,转念想想,这种烟火般的场面也意味着男主的转变,弑神的兴奋;魔爪女那段,剧情需要也是为了展示普通人和超英的巨大差异,可能只是一时兴奋,普通人就成了“附带伤害”;祖国人的大开杀戒也是完全有必要的,昏暗中那双赤红的双目和血肉横飞提醒我们人类在他眼中只是蝼蚁,那一刻这位超级英雄和天使撕下了所有伪装,变成了彻头彻尾的恶魔。 期待第二季。 剧集一直强调是非一般的警匪剧,剧情发展很简单,就一个凶手串联整部剧,说真近年找“Big Boss”这种桥段已经很老套,尽管《使徒行者》《城寨英雄》这类型的剧当时很火,但现在还用这种Big Boss情节来吸引观众追看剧集会觉得沉闷不吃香,之前说过《十八年后的终极告白2.0》,如是。剧集的主题是透过人与对错的理解反映现实社会的问题,当然查案亦是重点,编剧也特意设计每个案件完了之后都留下未破解的疑 剧集一直强调是非一般的警匪剧,剧情发展很简单,就一个凶手串联整部剧,说真近年找“Big Boss”这种桥段已经很老套,尽管《使徒行者》《城寨英雄》这类型的剧当时很火,但现在还用这种Big Boss情节来吸引观众追看剧集会觉得沉闷不吃香,之前说过《十八年后的终极告白2.0》,如是。剧集的主题是透过人与对错的理解反映现实社会的问题,当然查案亦是重点,编剧也特意设计每个案件完了之后都留下未破解的疑惑给角色们,尽量制造悬疑感,如果能一个案件一个凶手,再透过凶手的视觉说出一念之差的主题比起全剧只一个凶手要丰富得多。很喜欢剧集的感情线,开头很怕陈展鹏陈炜陈敏之三角恋,查一下案就谈谈情说说爱,好在蜻蜓点水点到即止,如果不是就破坏了整部剧这种阴沉无奈的气氛味调,不过前段围绕江嘉敏和李国麟那些轻松情节确实有点平衡不了,或者剧组不想全剧一直阴沉到尾,但作为观众会觉得两头不到岸。剧集描写的所有角色,无论是案件的主角或是配角都很好的说出一念之差的主题。总结一句,论主题性的话是很好看的,剧情发展就单调无力。 本文发表于《上海电视》2021年7月某期。如需转载,请一定联系本人、一定注明、一定附上豆瓣链接! ---------- 看《燃野少年的天空》主创团队是导演张一白、韩琰、编剧里则林,主角也是彭昱畅,显然片方是想延续剧集《风犬少年的天空》的热度,电影制作的速度也相当快,片尾花絮已说明这就是 本文发表于《上海电视》2021年7月某期。如需转载,请一定联系本人、一定注明、一定附上豆瓣链接! ---------- 看《燃野少年的天空》主创团队是导演张一白、韩琰、编剧里则林,主角也是彭昱畅,显然片方是想延续剧集《风犬少年的天空》的热度,电影制作的速度也相当快,片尾花絮已说明这就是一部今年由春入夏时拍摄、暑期上画的电影,制作也算不得精致,剧情拼凑,漏洞百出。但全片尤其是后半截完全进入歌舞片节奏之后,观众还是能感知到片方想填补歌舞片这一类型空缺的努力,做歌舞片本身没问题,张亚东也顺利完成所有音乐的监制工作,演员跳舞水平乘次不齐,其中有大批大批“字母+数字”代号的女团成员,看上去团体操很有阵势。它只比烂好一点点。 彭昱畅明年二十八了,我们都知道他是这部电影唯一的票房号召因素,也知道他是目前市面上最受青睐的“少年”类型演员,当年同类型的董子健资源更好,也更早转型,彭昱畅近几年也有《一点就到家》之类的转型努力,如今又回到这个不再适合他的熟悉区域,他的整体气质至少已是大学生模样,有点像当年的潘粤明,他也露出二十七八岁成熟男性的微胖体态。电影不像伪饰颇多、受众宽容的网剧,他声嘶力竭地夸张扮傻,这位“十八岁高考复读生”背后的身心疲惫与尴尬,在大银幕下无所遁形,他还在奔下楼梯的过程中崴了脚。 把电影拍成海南旅游风光片挺契合暑期档需求,可能有编剧早年对那个生活环境的爱意,以骑楼下的咸鱼店为代表的街景是入味的。编导很懂怎么讨小姑娘欢心,并把这感觉贯穿入一个调度丰富(甚至有天气助攻)的追爱长镜头,也平顺延续平行剪辑衬托男女默契的套路,虽然不乏硬塞草蜢叔蔡一智“失恋阵线联盟”戏份的意图。最后不清不楚的爱情线收尾,也许更像比80后漂泊的90后00后对初恋的理解。 歌舞部分最好的是独舞,看出女主(真十七岁少女许恩怡饰)确实会跳舞,虽然很快被突入的电脑特效彻底破坏。她的自我意识觉醒线也不行,观众期待她以个人实力征服曾经霸凌她的同学,自强自信,而非带领大家一起跳团体操——能一起跳,正因为他们跳的是动作一致的团体操,进不了舞蹈决赛实属必然。编导们对舞蹈的审美太落后。本来“雨中舞”应是所有青春歌舞片最华彩的“斗舞”桥段(《闪光少女》的“斗琴”尚属及格),可惜气场拉起来后,迅速一团和气跳团体操,连从“斗”到“合”的张力都没有,孩子们白淋雨白日晒了。张一白几乎没有拿得出手的好作品,还那么多明星捧场,怪哉!他一门心思写青春,这是执念还是病? 你知道 “ME TOO” 运动吗? 我是通过这部剧知道的这个运动,一个女生可以为自己发声的活动。 因为性别问题,在大男子主义的韩国,女生难免会受到一些性别歧视:在小社会一样的大学里,这些歧视开始初显端倪。 这部剧里的问题都挺尖锐的:女性被物化、面 你知道 “ME TOO” 运动吗? 我是通过这部剧知道的这个运动,一个女生可以为自己发声的活动。 因为性别问题,在大男子主义的韩国,女生难免会受到一些性别歧视:在小社会一样的大学里,这些歧视开始初显端倪。 这部剧里的问题都挺尖锐的:女性被物化、面对前辈尤其是男性前辈的无理要求该不该拒绝、性骚扰难道就真的只有肢体触碰吗...... 一个个细碎的问题被提了出来,诸多鸡毛蒜皮的小事反映出了女生受到的不公待遇。 然而生活哪来那么多大事,不都是鸡毛蒜皮的小事积累起来的吗? 于是,剧里也告诉你要如何处理这些问题。 不要害怕,受害者没有错,错的是加害者。所以,放弃受害有罪论,大胆地为自己发声。如果害怕个体的力量不足以撼动加害者的地位,那么 ME TOO 就是很好的保护自己的方式,但前提是你有勇气守护自己、守护跟自己一样的许许多多的弱势群体。 不要怕,敏感点也无妨。 终于,没有人再争着抢着,哭着喊着要嫁给男主了,现在大家争着抢着要嫁的,是男二! 那些或温柔,或美好,静静流淌在岁月中的男二,终于被看见了,穿透了时光,站在人前,闪闪发亮了,男二们终于迎来了自己的春天! 终于,没有人再争着抢着,哭着喊着要嫁给男主了,现在大家争着抢着要嫁的,是男二! 那些或温柔,或美好,静静流淌在岁月中的男二,终于被看见了,穿透了时光,站在人前,闪闪发亮了,男二们终于迎来了自己的春天! 拥有朋友,是幸福的…… 近期自己补剧也有一些倦怠,新剧更是提不起精神,这个时候出现的这部少年,灵异,推理,罪案,多种元素融合的剧集出现了,看似不起眼,但是自己居然一口气看完了。 超自然题材剧集《路德灵异侦探社 Lockwood & Co》,该剧根据J 拥有朋友,是幸福的…… 近期自己补剧也有一些倦怠,新剧更是提不起精神,这个时候出现的这部少年,灵异,推理,罪案,多种元素融合的剧集出现了,看似不起眼,但是自己居然一口气看完了。 超自然题材剧集《路德灵异侦探社 Lockwood & Co》,该剧根据Jonathan Stroud所著同名畅销小说系列改篇,小说首集《The Screaming Staircase》背景在伦敦,这世界有着不同鬼怪,而只有少数少年才有观察到这些超自然现象的能力(书中设定成人不会有这类能力),因此少年灵异侦探社应运而生,而路德灵异侦探社则是众侦探社中最小型及摇摇欲坠的一间。 剧中以女孩露西的视角,从小失去父亲,因为自己的灵异能力被母亲压榨,而因为一次任务监督员的不作为,失去自己的好朋友甚至将要成为背锅侠,愤然离开这个英国小镇来到英国伦敦寻找自己在这个世界的位置,因为没有推荐人没有各种规定的文件在正规的侦探社求职中屡屡受挫,最后来到这家叫做路德侦探社的地方,和两个“胆大妄为”的少年组成了侦探社铁三角,开始了自己寻找存在意义的奋斗之路。 总的来说,因为自己没有看过这个系列小说,所以不能断定女主是不是整个故事的核心,毕竟虽然第一季他们在解决案件,但是貌似最后的线索都汇聚于这个世界变成如此的真相这个问题上,第一季八集剧情据说是融合了这个系列的两本书,难怪情节紧凑,虽然对于人物的刻画不是很深刻但是快节奏弥补了不少短板,片头片尾的音乐很燃,三个主角的性格虽然有些年少轻狂但是意外的并不让人讨厌,而且第一季最后留下一个悬念,所以自己是很期待这部剧集会续订下一季的呢,个人评分8.6分,推荐指数五星。 虚拟世界终究不是逃避之所,接纳自己、直面现实,我们才能收获更为宽阔的人生 虚拟世界终究不是逃避之所,接纳自己、直面现实,我们才能收获更为宽阔的人生 这部电影深刻呈现出老一辈人最真挚也最润物无声的爱情。“他好的时候,我不用在”。苏凌芳自始至终都践行着这句话,在郭做出成绩时她没有和其他朋友一样轰轰烈烈地表达喜悦与赞赏;但在任何郭小鲁陷入困境的时刻,她都无一缺席,不论是小时候还是长大后对在病床上的郭小鲁的悉心照顾。苏凌芳总是以一副洒脱从容的态度面对生活,这是她的用以隔绝外界、隐藏内心的保护色。她缺乏安全感,怕遗忘,也怕被抛弃,对周遭 这部电影深刻呈现出老一辈人最真挚也最润物无声的爱情。“他好的时候,我不用在”。苏凌芳自始至终都践行着这句话,在郭做出成绩时她没有和其他朋友一样轰轰烈烈地表达喜悦与赞赏;但在任何郭小鲁陷入困境的时刻,她都无一缺席,不论是小时候还是长大后对在病床上的郭小鲁的悉心照顾。苏凌芳总是以一副洒脱从容的态度面对生活,这是她的用以隔绝外界、隐藏内心的保护色。她缺乏安全感,怕遗忘,也怕被抛弃,对周遭一切细微变化都很敏感,却从不抱怨自己所受的现实打压和委屈,从不大谈特谈自己的付出。她对郭小鲁的爱是深沉厚重的,与成天把爱挂在嘴边的开玩笑式爱情不同,俩人都很郑重地把这份感情藏在心里,更多的是用行动来表达对于对方的喜欢。 对影片中苏的一句话印象深刻“如果我忘记了你,忘记了过去的记忆,那我还是那个自己吗”,我以为她永远永远都不会忘了郭,却没料到之后发生了如此戏剧化的转变,苏在年老后因病症的原因而将郭遗忘,把他视作陌生人,但即便如此她仍记得那颗糖果,那颗郭在第一次见面时给她的糖果,这样看来其实苏还是没有彻底忘记郭小鲁,俩人终相逢,这应该算是HE吧。 谁能不喜欢Raúl这样的男孩呢?有坚定的个性,又有点gaygay的温柔。我反复品味他和Marcos接吻的那场戏。Marcos是主动的,是进攻者;Raúl是被动的,是接受者。但他也没有丝毫迟疑,那一刻的他有种脆弱的,近乎母性的温柔。他承接Marcos澎湃的激情,不拒绝也不评判,这确实足以让Marcos心动。但吻完之后他的眼神游移:他和Marcos当然是朋友,但也仅止于朋友而已。好朋友当然也可以 谁能不喜欢Raúl这样的男孩呢?有坚定的个性,又有点gaygay的温柔。我反复品味他和Marcos接吻的那场戏。Marcos是主动的,是进攻者;Raúl是被动的,是接受者。但他也没有丝毫迟疑,那一刻的他有种脆弱的,近乎母性的温柔。他承接Marcos澎湃的激情,不拒绝也不评判,这确实足以让Marcos心动。但吻完之后他的眼神游移:他和Marcos当然是朋友,但也仅止于朋友而已。好朋友当然也可以接吻,但总有道过不去的坎。 这道坎就是Sandra. 毫无疑问Raúl是偏爱Sandra的,所以才能为了Sandra这么关心Marcos. 这个故事注定不能有很好的结局,因为这就是青春嘛。 再说说Marcos一家人吧。爸爸显然精神有问题。像每一个,愤怒的,觉得自己有义务有责任控制乃至矫正家中每一个人的父亲一样,他的存在压抑着家中每一个人。妈妈温柔善良,但面对这样癫狂的父亲毫无招架之力。哥哥怯懦,被爸爸培养成了告密者。弟弟叛逆,也习得性无助:被打的时候只会希望爸爸放过自己 最后说说老师吧。其实这部剧很真实,虽然西班牙的同性婚姻早已通过,但是西班牙的恐同氛围依然存在,甚至有些时候很严重。所以老师说,即使在这样一个强调平等多元的国家,依然有太多人因为恐同和恐跨暴力受到伤害。 五星给主角颜值,五星给主角演技;一星给剧本。 我真的很痛心,难得看到一部剧里俩主角的颜值都这么高的,结果剧情还这么拉胯。 我阅 五星给主角颜值,五星给主角演技;一星给剧本。 我真的很痛心,难得看到一部剧里俩主角的颜值都这么高的,结果剧情还这么拉胯。 我阅BL无数了,截止目前这是唯一一部泰腐里两个男主颜值都让我觉得“服气”的剧。(把范围扩大到所有国家的话, 另外一部是法国版的skam ) 这真的太难得了,很多剧要不是其中一个主角我第一眼get不到;要么是两个主角我都第一眼get不到;要么是第一眼不错,但是后期颜值总有崩盘的时候; 即便是后来因为演技人设加持,剧成为了我心中上乘佳作,演员也成为了我的墙头,即使这样我也做不到违心去夸演员是大帅哥。 但是这俩不一样,他俩的颜值是绝对值高,不是加了参数的那种(指氛围感、角度、人设等),是360度无死角,你第一眼看到就惊呼大帅哥,看了十几集各种表情各种造型还是惊呼大帅哥的那种 --- --- 好看。 而且演技还很自然,不管是暧昧氛围、热恋氛围还是NC都轻松拿捏住了,俩主角又帅又放得开,我简直相见恨晚! 但是!但是! 颜值如此高的一对CP,剧本就给个这??? 这什么剧本啊 几乎没有剧情啊! 即便是两个大帅哥来演 我也很难坚持追完啊 这个剧情真的是没有一丁点吸引人持续看下去的动力 除非你是纯粹想看两个大帅哥以各种角度各种姿势船戏 我真的太痛心了! 好不容易!好不容易!泰腐出了这么一对高质量CP 换个稍微有吸引力一点儿的剧本,这一对分分钟大爆好嘛!! 这俩人长得实在太出挑了,路过的蚂蚁看到了都要客观地说“大帅哥”的程度,居然不温不火的,我简直太可惜了,恨不得夺舍了他们公司高层领导,随便买个海棠排行榜靠前的小说版权给他俩翻拍,这不分分钟红得发紫。 终于看到一部现代甜宠小短剧,能够跟韩剧同类型相媲美的,全程非常甜,没有虐,而且男女主智商情商逻辑什么的都挺在线啊。因为是新出的缘故吧,所以就融入了非常多很好的梗,什么密室逃脱梗啊人菜瘾大呀,嗯,还有男人的嘴骗人的鬼。最重要的是吧男女主颜值还是可以的,搞笑。主要是,他立意还是算可以的,就是他没有很简单的讨论啊,单身男女多年重逢之后如何再次相爱。他实际上是由讨论一点点 终于看到一部现代甜宠小短剧,能够跟韩剧同类型相媲美的,全程非常甜,没有虐,而且男女主智商情商逻辑什么的都挺在线啊。因为是新出的缘故吧,所以就融入了非常多很好的梗,什么密室逃脱梗啊人菜瘾大呀,嗯,还有男人的嘴骗人的鬼。最重要的是吧男女主颜值还是可以的,搞笑。主要是,他立意还是算可以的,就是他没有很简单的讨论啊,单身男女多年重逢之后如何再次相爱。他实际上是由讨论一点点比较深刻的东西,我觉得小短剧能够做到这一点,在只有18集一集,只有十分钟左右的时间内把一切事情都交代清楚,干净利落,已经算是非常难得了。
虽然巅峰实力不再,但英国仍然是非常傲娇的存在,不管是军事、时尚还是娱乐,“英伦风”都自成一派。
这种感慨,在最近再次得到了印证,是源于刚开播的一档机器人格斗综艺《铁甲雄心》,在这场全球规模的科技赛场上,英
虽然巅峰实力不再,但英国仍然是非常傲娇的存在,不管是军事、时尚还是娱乐,“英伦风”都自成一派。
这种感慨,在最近再次得到了印证,是源于刚开播的一档机器人格斗综艺《铁甲雄心》,在这场全球规模的科技赛场上,英国队亲身示范了“如何一脸优雅尊贵地碾压对手”,不但把中国大学生的机器人打到报废才罢休,还矜持地秀了一把优越:“希望中国战队能从我们身上学到经验。”
80年代的台湾电影,喜欢这种跨时间叙事,从童年讲到青年再讲到中年,既感概人生的成长乐痛,也展现台湾社会的变化。《小毕的故事》是以个人的成长为线索,《油麻菜籽》是以一个家庭的变故为线索,而《我们都是这样长大的》是以一个班级的同学群像为线索。
童年时代,老师以红扣子的奖励和黑扣子的惩罚为标记,激励同学向上之心。这是我们大多数都曾经历的奖惩措施,张元《看起来很美》
80年代的台湾电影,喜欢这种跨时间叙事,从童年讲到青年再讲到中年,既感概人生的成长乐痛,也展现台湾社会的变化。《小毕的故事》是以个人的成长为线索,《油麻菜籽》是以一个家庭的变故为线索,而《我们都是这样长大的》是以一个班级的同学群像为线索。
童年时代,老师以红扣子的奖励和黑扣子的惩罚为标记,激励同学向上之心。这是我们大多数都曾经历的奖惩措施,张元《看起来很美》中的小红花就是同样的道理。中国人的教育注重黑白之辨,善恶之分,以行为结果定成绩,从不在乎过程和初心,不管是在大陆还是台湾都是如此。不过,电影中的老师后来认识到这种方法的简单粗暴,容易伤害同学的自尊,取消了扣子制度。但是《看起来很美》中的老师没有这种反思。
台湾电影对儿童生活的表现可能是世界上最好的,不管什么电影中,只要涉及到儿童,都那么纯真自然可爱。这是受整个社会氛围的影响,同时也在创作中积累了大量的拍摄经验。《我们都是这样长大的》中,三八线、上课摇铃、扔篮球、捉蛇吓人、学唱歌等等细节,都能激发起我们的怀旧情绪。
悲情也是台湾电影的显著标志,片中的中学同班学生进行野游聚会时,老师的丈夫为救落水学生而牺牲了,让本来温馨快乐的气氛一下子变得悲痛。同时,也为之后老师继承丈夫的精神,投身特殊教育奠定了故事基础。而同学们之所以齐心协力帮助老师,也在于忘不掉当初的那一幕。
影片后半段讲述学生长大后的经历时有些散乱,但也见证了台湾社会的变化。比如股市的膨胀、房地产的兴起、女性工作者地位的提升、餐饮业的发达、参选制度建立民主程度提升、电视上的辩论、社区生活的矛盾等等,都真实反映了那个时代台湾的混乱和开放。
影片结尾再拉回到开学第一天,同学们上台自我介绍,时光的瞬间穿越,却在生命中打下深深烙印。他们都长大了,但他们最怀念的也许就是童年,是那初次相识的时刻。
廖明伟放弃了青梅竹马的女友江培培,在她的婚礼上要强吻新郎,这一情节被九把刀借用到《那些年,我们一起追的女孩》中。说话结巴的施承祖,长大后成为一名医生,因为童年时老师送过他一双鞋,一辈子都记住这份恩情。后来的同学会上,他向老师隐晦地表白,想要陪老师一起照顾那些收养的孩子,而老师说她也是把他当自己的孩子看。这份师生恋也只能点到为止。
片中,扮演老师的丁乃竺,是著名话剧导演赖声川的妻子,漂亮有气质,被学生气哭的那个情节很让人感动。
扮演主角人物廖伟明的是运动员出身的演员徐明,长得高大俊朗,与梁朝伟有几分神似,但比梁朝伟粗犷,演技也比较粗糙,神态太僵,倒像是香港三级片的男主角。他后来转型成为台湾著名的催眠大师。
扮演江培培的胡因梦,美得让人窒息,长相时尚,但眼神中有浓厚的忧郁和苦情,也印证了她情感路的不顺。嫁给文痞李敖,毁了彼此。
小野写的剧本不像吴念真那般细腻伤感,整体上大刀阔斧,更加利落,本片也获得金马奖最佳剧本。柯一正作为新电影的主要导演,风格不像侯孝贤和杨德昌那么独特分明,他的可贵之处就是继承了台湾电影向来的人文情怀和温厚格调。
台湾电影喜欢通过自我体验来表达对生活和社会的认识,比如电影名字《我们都是这样长大的》、《我这样过了一生》等,很明显是以小见大的隐喻。
然而,谁不是这样长大的?我们都是这样长大的。2016年1月1日
在这之前,我已经快把国产电影同男足画上了等号。随着香港影业的没落,国产片的质量几乎成雪崩式下滑。不客气的讲,惨淡的票房完全依靠小鲜肉和脑残编剧们的奇思妙想来支撑。炒冷饭变成了圈钱的不二法门,当我听说已有
在这之前,我已经快把国产电影同男足画上了等号。随着香港影业的没落,国产片的质量几乎成雪崩式下滑。不客气的讲,惨淡的票房完全依靠小鲜肉和脑残编剧们的奇思妙想来支撑。炒冷饭变成了圈钱的不二法门,当我听说已有几十部西游题材的影视剧立项拍摄的时候,我觉得吴承恩老先生是时候揭棺而起了。(原谅我这个人就是这么直接)于是乎,当众望所归的《美人鱼》变成一张尴尬的情怀票时,我对中国的电影梦,也随着大圣的《一生所爱》飘散风中。
是什么导致了中国电影的浮躁?这个问题说起来根源错综复杂,并非一两句能够摆明。倘若非得较个真,我个人认为还是向钱看的思想在作祟。导演们也要吃饭,也要讲门面,当艺术与生活激烈冲突的时候,很多人都选择了后者。万万没想到的是,有些事情一旦开了头,就一发不可收拾,拍烂片也一样。当你以为迫于生计原谅自己的不负责任和坠落时,晚节不保的命运就已经不可避免。所以便有了曾经站在星爷后面苦口婆心的葡萄,如今一意孤行,一失足成千古骂。
如此说来成功的导演就分成了两类,一类是叫好不叫座的文艺片导演,一类是获得普遍认可,赚钱之余又给人以某种慰藉的商业片导演。严格来讲,《喊山》算不得文艺片,充其量也就是爱情文艺片,因为就文艺片来说,《路边野餐》做的更纯粹更彻底。
脱离开让某些影评人上纲上线,捶胸顿足的文艺片范后,再看《喊山》这部电影就会舒服得多。影片中朴实无华,简单纯粹的情欲便会直达人心,让你久久不能忘怀。其实故事的中心思想很简单,尽管与主旋律打拐沾边,可中心思想就是一个没见过世面的山里娃子,爱上了一个面容姣好但患有心理疾病的漂亮寡妇。
好的电影总是万变不离其中,如果你能接受后现代主义的大圣,那么《喊山》中那些微不足道的破绽也就可以自动忽略了。关键是整部电影的完整性、故事性和演员对于角色本身的刻画。我觉得单从这几个方面来说,这部电影已经相当成功。故事人人会讲,爱情天天发生,如果你不明白莎士比亚的《罗密欧与朱丽叶》是怎样变成经典的,那么回头看看《梁山伯与祝英台》也应该有所领悟。
《喊山》就是这样的类型片,虽然与经典还有段距离,可喜可贺的是我从片子里看到了诚意,终于将国产电影等于烂片的定律稍稍打破,我觉得这就够了,终于有了好的开始。好的电影总是能直击人心,当韩冲面对围堵阻拦他投案自首的众位乡亲,指着红霞说你们把她当成什么了的时候,整部电影的戏剧性与张力也达到了顶峰。它起码打动了我,唤起了我心底深处的感情,让早已麻木的心再次感受到了世间的真意,甚至还有一些如题的感悟。对于国产片来说,这足以让我倍感欣慰,差点哭出声来。感谢导演,感谢演员,我仅代表个人点赞。
从演员阵营及表现来说,此片的角色可分为四类。子弹哥饰演关羽,虽然演技略平庸,但保证了武术动作的火爆精彩;姜文大神刻画的曹操堪称无与伦比,无论是戏份还是风采,都压过了本片主角云长哥,孙俪饰演的小妾绮兰这一角色,大部分时间里都较为平庸,倒是最后的高潮部分出了一下彩。最后就是包括皇帝、韩福、王值这样一类角色,其表演虽然
从演员阵营及表现来说,此片的角色可分为四类。子弹哥饰演关羽,虽然演技略平庸,但保证了武术动作的火爆精彩;姜文大神刻画的曹操堪称无与伦比,无论是戏份还是风采,都压过了本片主角云长哥,孙俪饰演的小妾绮兰这一角色,大部分时间里都较为平庸,倒是最后的高潮部分出了一下彩。最后就是包括皇帝、韩福、王值这样一类角色,其表演虽然皆不能与曹操大神相比,但对于这个崭新的故事却是不可或缺。
本片之好,从编剧和历史解读的创新来说更可称道。关羽的故事,中国人皆熟知之,对此解读也已有公论,关云长面对曹操拉拢毫不动摇,为护送嫂子回到刘备身边,过五关斩六将,神勇无敌,忠义无双。本片彻底颠覆了传统的解读,也正合乎香港导演拍摄历史电影的颠覆传统。而且尤为人所惊叹的是,这颠覆是如此有深度,又合逻辑。
(一)只有曹操懂关羽
首先要说的必属曹操无疑。姜文饰演曹操之出彩,即使片名改为《曹孟德》亦不为过。此片宣传之时就以关曹“暧昧”关系为卖点,本来以为又是满足腐女恶趣味之炒作,但关曹关系确为本片之核心。全片剧情归结起来,就是曹操为收服关羽费尽心机,最终却功亏一篑。曹操在影片一开始的旁白中就已经点明此点:这关羽是他刘备的棋子(妻子??),怎样才能变为我的棋子呢?此后剧情发展,皆从此点出发。
曹操爱关羽,他自己说的明白:我就喜欢你。为什么曹操爱关羽?他说的也明白:你本是一匹狼,偏偏生了一副羊的心肠。影片中,关羽武功旷世无敌,得之则可平定天下,若为敌所得则天下难得。或者说,关羽就是乱世里的战略性武器。这个战略性武器威力无敌,但极有原则,重情重义,视刘备如亲兄长,宁死不忍负之。剧中人人都明白这一点,因此关羽离开曹操之时,曹营众将包括皇帝在内,莫不欲诛之而后快,因此得知关羽将留在曹操身边之时,刘备小妾绮兰不惜以身相许,以求为刘皇叔留下二哥。这些人皆知关羽,更怕关羽,但是他们却都不懂关羽。
只有曹操懂关羽。
曹操知道,关羽义薄云天,绝不会辜负刘备。既是如此,他又何苦想要收服关羽?当关羽要离开自己,他又为何不杀之?定论是,曹孟德爱关云长之武略,爱关云长之仁义,爱关云长之为人。但是本片的解读不是如此。魏将皆要杀关羽,曹操怎会不明白关羽不能降必要杀这个道理?一个宁可我负天下人,不可天下人负我的枭雄,又岂会因为爱才这种感性的理由损害自己的大业?唯一的解释是,曹操有办法,也有信心可以收服关羽。因为曹操懂得关羽,明白他内心的矛盾和渴望。
关羽是什么?他是武的化身,人人都看得见;他是义的图腾,人人都很了解。但他归根到底是一个男人,这一点,只有曹操懂。身为一个男人,关羽渴望一个家,需要家里有一个自己爱的女人;在经历了无数的杀戮以后,他就会厌倦,会痛苦;他渴望结束这个乱世,百姓都能过上安居乐业的好日子。传统的解读里,关羽是一个解释“义”的符号,影片则把关羽还原为一个人。是人,就有情,就渴望情。家和心爱的女人、杀戮的疲倦、对安居乐业的渴望,都是关羽的情。
曹操问关羽:你为什么不愿意留下?关羽答曰:因为你们这里没有情。关羽的心底里渴望着作为一个人的情,但是可悲的是,他为了他终生坚持的“义”,一只在压抑着自己的“情”。他对刘备有君臣之义,所以对不能领曹操的情;他对刘备有兄弟之义,所以不能对绮兰有任何“无礼”,因为这是他大哥的女人,是他的嫂子。关羽所秉持的义是如此沉重,以至于即使被下了春药,他的情都能被克制住。这固然值得敬佩,但是换个角度思考,如此为人,是否有些太过辛苦,甚至可悲了呢?情义情义,我们常常连带说起,但这在关羽的内心,却是不可调和的矛盾冲突,时时刻刻折磨着他,让他不再是人,而是一个象征武和义的冰冷的图腾。
关羽自己说:我的心早已空无一物。
何异于人间失格。
(二)义的崩塌
关羽内心的痛苦,曹操是懂的,因为懂得,所以会利用,所以有信心留下关羽。怎样让他变成自己的棋子?曹操的办法是“动之以情”。
曹营皆是降将,说明曹操极懂人心,极懂收服人心。关羽心中所想,他一清二楚,关羽内心挣扎,他也洞若观火。但是一开始,曹操还是想用传统的办法收服关羽,他请出皇帝,赐关羽汉寿亭侯官位,莫不想关羽当堂讥刺曹操挟天子以令诸侯,令曹操颜面尽失。
既然关羽对官爵嗤之以鼻,曹操便以“义”来争取关羽的心。他告诉关羽:我曹操治下,百废复兴,六年没有一个人饿死。关羽说难民怎么办?曹操说我回去就给他们解决户口。曹操带着皇帝亲自耕作,对关羽道:不是我曹操挟天子以令诸侯,而是天子挟曹操以令诸侯。正是新三国里那句话:没有我曹操,这天下不知几人称王,几人称霸!就连皇帝本人都说,正是曹操,他这个皇帝才有白饼,有肉羹。曹操这一连串作态,莫不是在告诉关羽:我曹操不是乱臣贼子,我也在为江山谋一统,为百姓谋福祉。你关羽所追求的义,不是在刘备那里才能找到,我曹操一样有。
曹操此番作态,绝非虚伪,而是用事实说话(后面韩福和王植的部分证实此点)。然而关羽此时并不相信曹操。曹操以天下大义拉拢关羽失败以后,便另辟蹊径。曹操得知关羽与绮兰之间的纠葛,便想出给他下春药,妄图使二人发生不伦关系。此计很是阴毒,也很是高明。一方面,此计可破坏关羽和刘备的兄弟之义。关羽因辜负了对刘备的兄弟之义,可能出于自责不敢寻找大哥。但刘备亦为枭雄,不会舍不下一个女人,到时刘备把绮兰许给关羽,关羽恐怕更对刘更加死心塌地。春药一计高明之处在于,绮兰不仅是刘备的女人,更是关羽心爱的女人。曹操懂得关羽,懂得他为了对刘备的义,压制对绮兰的情。关羽曾说过:我没有家。送关羽回房前,装醉的曹操对真醉的关羽说:云长兄,你留下来帮我,我给你一个家。曹操要留下关羽,便要利用关羽的情,勾起关羽对家的渴望,对心爱的女人的渴望。这份渴望被上了一把叫做“义”的锁,而曹操的一剂春药,便是这情锁的钥匙。
可惜的是,曹操又失败了,他低估了义在关羽心中的份量。而关羽也得知了大哥的下落,将要离开曹操。
关羽来向曹操道别,曹操闭门不见。假若曹操真心想要履行他和关羽的诺言,应该前来相送。但是曹操没有,关羽封金挂印,自行离开。众将心急如焚,因为他们谁都知道关羽如何一刀劈死颜良,若放任离开,将来某日这一刀就可能取走自己首级。可曹操悠悠然一句:放行。
曹操果真如此豁达,如此重诺?若有此份诚意,他送送关羽又何妨?其实,关羽擅自离开,众将欲杀关羽,曹操莫不心知肚明。只要顺其发展,待时机一到,曹操打出一张王牌,则关羽之心可收矣。
关羽先诛杀孔秀,后诛杀韩福。不愿杀戮的关羽问两人为何不放过自己,两人皆言道:皇命难违。尤其是杀韩福一段,更是动摇着关羽的心。董卓一把大火,洛阳一片废墟,如今曹操治下,百废待兴,曾经刀枪暗器天下一流的福字号也放下屠刀,从事生产。关羽为了全与刘备君臣之义、兄弟之义,不仅要放弃自己所爱之人,更要向兄弟拔刀相向。曹操未必能料到关羽与韩福的关系,但他却知道,属下众将为了防止再起干戈,定然会诛杀关羽,阻止其回到刘备身边。深深厌倦杀戮的关羽,不仅要屡屡提刀杀人,更会认识到,自己好像成了阻挠江山一统,破坏百姓安居乐业的魔头。这是与他对刘备之义的反动,是它心底深处的情和渴望。诛孔秀、杀韩福,深深地触动了关羽的情,刺痛了关羽的义。
洛阳一战,大难不死。关羽为了减缓情义冲突对他的折磨,进行了一次挣扎。他想要抛开自己的情,于是拜托僧人将绮兰送到汝阳,使让自己动情的绮兰远离自己,同时为了贯彻自己的义,他专门选择祸害百姓的贪官污吏诛杀之,以此说服自己,他不是阻挠江山一统、破坏百姓福祉的魔头。然而,曹操在得知关羽诛杀卞喜之后,祭出了自己的杀手锏。
曹操的王牌,就是王植。
王植,一个爱民如子的好官。百姓的离开、王植的自尽,儿童的引导,百姓的唾骂,曹操的出现,英雄的维护。一切布局都如此完美。关羽问王植:为何要疏散百姓?王植答曰:不愿多造杀孽。为何要为难关某?王植答曰:惟愿多留将军一刻。这都是再告诉关羽:你若不忘刘备,你若一定要与曹魏为敌,便是破坏天下一统,便是无形中再造杀孽。最后,王植不惜以死告诉关羽这一点,而且是自尽于其青龙偃月刀下,这不能不对关羽的心理构成极大的冲击。尤为刻骨铭心的是,当关羽发现了疏散的百姓,百姓莫不视之如仇寇魔头,以石子击之,狂呼杀了他杀了他。这一刻,随着武神的轰然跪地,关羽心中的“义”也轰然崩塌。这就是自己坚持的义吗?换回的只是百姓的仇恨和杀意。失去了自己的义,关羽宁可死在一个普通百姓的手中,不做任何反抗。
曹操,此时,恰如其分地登场了。他下了封口令,告诉关羽:英雄你来当,小人由我来。时机之巧,分寸之准,令人咋舌。一个人绝望的时候,给与希望是最为珍贵的。曹操的话,其实是告诉关羽,你过去的义没有了,我这里还有,我这里不仅有义,还有情。因为你来了,情便有了。
(三)情的湮灭
曹操:袁绍就要打来了,助我一回。关羽:如何?曹操:十万大军,去两万,自溃。关羽:岂不是还要杀人?曹操:这已经是和平最低的代价。
关羽决定留下了。
曹操的计策成功了,不着痕迹。关羽不知道,魏将不知道,皇帝也不知道。因为曹操看透了关羽,用他的情,毁灭了他的义。
绮兰急了。
关羽、绮兰、刘备是一个俗套的爱情三角。但是俗套的剧情放在宏大额历史里,往往会升华到不一样的境地。年轻的时候,关羽为绮兰杀了人,沦落天涯,追随刘备。衣锦还乡之时,绮兰早已认不出当年的小青年,却对刘皇叔心生爱慕。尽管如此,关羽却并未心有芥蒂。他是一个义重于性命的英雄。即使在梦里,关羽都不能对绮兰有所表示。越是遮掩,越是欲盖弥彰。绮兰,是他心底里的痛,更是他心底里的爱。是证明他还为人的一点点的情的证明。
可悲的的是,绮兰最终证明的,是她对刘备的爱。
经历了春药一事,绮兰知道了二哥的心意。当关羽向她道别时,她说愿意和关羽在一起,只要她向刘备提出要求,视兄弟如手足,妻子如衣服的刘皇叔,绝不会不答允。在经历了腥风血雨后,绮兰对于关羽的情和渴望也有所理解。她向关羽抛出了家的诱饵,为的却不是回报关羽对她的爱,而是成全自己对刘备的爱。只要牺牲自己,便可换得关羽重回刘备身边。
绮兰对关羽的了解,远不及关羽对她。面对爱与家的诱惑,关羽只是一句:
如果我不愿意随你回去,你还愿意和我一起吗?
直白的揭穿,往往是刺入心底的匕首。关羽不想心底里的那一点情沦为爱的欺骗,于是赤裸裸的撕破了绮兰的伪装,换来的是绮兰的以死相逼,接着是欲诛之而后快的的决绝。在这个问题上,绮兰和那些曹魏将领一样,深知关羽不能得之必须杀之。她自然杀不了武功盖世的关羽,但却杀死了关羽的心。眼前这个人,自己为她杀人逃亡,为她过五关斩六将,为她和大哥团圆而杀人无数,还来得却只是一柄匕首。
哀,莫大于心死。
然而心死,却莫大于挚爱消殁眼前。
弩箭贯穿了绮兰的胸膛,她就这样死在了关羽的面前,在挽留关羽不成,刺杀关羽亦不成的绝望和崩溃里。关羽经历了义的崩塌,决心留在曹操身边,即使未必相助,也绝不相敌。但是转瞬间,他又经历了情的湮灭,那长年以来,被冰冷的杀戮掩埋的、心底里的小小的情,那是关羽尚且为人的证明,那是他对于家、对于爱的仅存的执着,就这样被无情的利箭彻底射穿。义理的破灭,与人可能只是心死的无奈,情的破灭,却是导致无休止杀戮的暴力潘多拉魔盒。关羽的愤怒,直接奔向那弩箭的源头。
皇命。
难违!
(四)曹操
其实此刻,最愤怒的不只是关羽,还有曹操。
关羽这枚棋子,为了为我所用,曹操百般算计,万般筹划,等的就是关羽告别绮兰的这一刻。英雄嘛,难过美人关,可要是过去了,那便海阔天空,任君翱翔。但这阔的是我曹孟德之海,空的是你刘皇叔之天。青龙偃月刀即便不能斩向刘备,但只要不斩向自己,便是巨大的胜利。况且还可以用来对付袁绍江东之流?曹操计策已成,美梦成真,心中喜悦可谓无以复加。
胜利的果实越甜美,失败的痛苦便越惨痛。
密林里,曹操跑过去,皇帝说:是我下的诛杀令。
皇帝的这道令,射死了绮兰,射怒了关羽,射疯了曹操。
如果把关羽放到一个至高的位置,他的归属足以决定天下的归属(正如剧中塑造的那样),那么你便可以理解,曹操的愤怒和无奈究竟到了一个什么程度。
曹操的梦想,是天下一统。说的难听点,他是为了实现个人的政治野心和抱负,说好听点,他是为了修补刘姓江山,让天下百姓安居乐业,不受兵祸连年颠沛流离之苦。挟天子,是为了这个梦想,收服关羽,是为了这个梦想,被蠢人和坏人千秋唾骂,是为了这个梦想。
可是关羽用刀指着他说:你想一统天下,绝不可能。
前一刻,这个男人还决定留下来,留在自己身边,为自己诛杀袁绍两万大军,然后平定江东!
皇帝!混蛋!
少年皇帝用渴望表扬的眼神看着曹操时,曹操心里的愤怒恐怕已经到了顶点,他恨不得立即杀了这个报废了自己梦想的昏君。人生最大的痛苦之一便是,当你恨一个人入骨欲立刻诛杀之的时候,却又不得不留下他的命。杀了皇帝,天下人又有了造反的籍口。曹操只能这样告诉自己,也只能这样告诉关羽。当曹操抓着皇帝的肩膀,内心的狂澜、脸上的表情、到最后世界上最艰难又最自然地笑容,当曹操看着关羽持刀离去,身上透露的那种无奈、失望和一切成空的纠结。这个曹操的一切情感,我实在想不出如何用文字来描绘。只有姜文的演技,只有姜文的演技,不,这已经不是演技,是化身为彼的天然,才能把这一刻的曹操刻画若此。
在曹操这个角色上,姜文前无古人,后无来者,他是最好,没有之一。
(五)结尾
影片把关羽请下神坛,塑造为一个人,一个受情义折磨,勇猛却又脆弱的普通男人。这个男人有三层:勇、义、情。编剧导演无比牛叉,可惜子弹哥的表演稍显不足。这三层关羽,勇自然是没话说,二哥眼一睁,人头满天飞。义这一层,多少演了些出来。至于导演最想表达的情,子弹哥的功力明显不足。甄子丹变成了甄子呆,武打明星终究是武打明星。
关羽本是一匹狼,却天生一副羊的心肠。
曹操对僧人说:
我可没说过我是羊。
忘了说了,这电影是真尼玛搞笑~