1、女主漂亮可爱身材好，长发温柔有味道。??警察的老婆也不错。??

2、我真的以为最后男主光头强会说me的，但是，他说:her...显然女主和我都一脸懵逼??，导演能否出来解释一下？??

3、剧情确实有起伏，但实在是漏洞太多。。比如为啥男主如此小强，40多的人了。。。骨瘦如柴的样子

4、大海出现次数太多了吧。。最后海水都淹到男主脖子了。。我才恍然大悟，这tm是生命倒计时。

5、律师和富二代老妈死的那叫一个嘎嘣脆。其他人死的再干脆点能压缩到1个小时。。

6、黑色幽默不少，比如男主杀人后玩游戏消磨时间以免引人怀疑。。但我认为大概率是硬广告??

7、警察助手智商偏低，自信偏高，死的不冤。

8、警察也超勇的，敢和持枪已经杀了6人的光头强硬讲大道理。勇气可嘉，运气不错。

9、整部电影有点疾速追杀的影子。。练习口语和听力挺好的。

查尔斯·兰姆曾说：“莎士比亚的《李尔王》是不合在舞台上演出的。”私以为他的真正意思是：一方面，舞台布景不足以还原暴风雨真正的恐怖；另一方面，李尔远非常人，深入其中的狂暴力量、那种崇高感，早已超越了一个演员以其血肉之躯所能达到的程度。

《李尔王》里的风暴场面本质上是诗性的，大自然与人的激情交织，汹涌澎湃——我几乎要相信，在充分调动想象力方面，唯当案头阅读李尔在荒原暴雨中那段独白的气魄时，恐惧的战栗才近乎到临峰值，而无论是演员以怎样的激情去演绎，效果竟也还是总嫌不够的。

但是，这次看到2018 BBC的电影改编，临近结尾的时候我忽然有了新的发现——

全剧最后一幕，考迪利亚死去，李尔临终前道：“我的傻孩子被绞杀了！没，没有命了！为什么一条狗一匹马一只老鼠都有命，而你偏偏没有气息了呢？你永不再来了，永不，永不，永不，永不，永不！请你，解开这个纽扣：多谢。你看见这个了么？看她，看她的嘴唇，看那，看那！”（死）

【详细】

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1、看一集的时常7分钟，感慨xl还真是走在了时代前沿，去年就拍了《月陨回声》这种几分钟一集的小短剧。

2、玉姬书属于是腾讯搞的短剧小尝试吧。分包给不同的工作室，这个瓦舍系列

3、大厂都开始搞短剧了，为什么？可能是因为受到抖音快手小短剧风靡的影响；同时也正好在资本紧缩的市场行情下，小投资，小风险。

以上纯属猜测。

原本以为是悬疑也不是，推理也不是，反而有点玛丽苏，但家人，对有些人来说是沉重的枷锁。23集的时候父女解开心结，虽然恶人作恶总有理由，但怀疑是一切犯罪的开端，也是一切亲密关系的扼杀者。很多错误和谎言，都是一开始不认错，不诚实造成的，而很多人一错再错，反而是为了掩盖一开始的心虚。老戏骨的演出都非常生动传神，感染力极强，以为天人永隔的夫妻见面，第一反应是愤怒怨恨，接下来马上是心疼难过抱头痛哭，非常动人以及贴切。总体来说只有男主演技不大行，中间几次剧情反转还是挺厉害的，塑造的女主人设更加独立自主一些，这一点值得尊敬。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Works Cited

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

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

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

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

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

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

第一次在电影院看小马宝莉，一直以来都是在家里陪着小朋友看，作为大人，我也很喜欢看小马宝莉，电视版从第一季看到第七季全部都看了。不得不说，孩之宝出的动画片故事内容很丰富，人物的性格也很鲜明，配乐也是很不错的，剧情中时尚元素也有不少，大电影依然延续了友谊的重要性，团结就是力量，很适合小朋友观影。大人看也不会枯燥。

这个片子看了一半就觉得针对性很强，爽片元素齐全，年轻人最喜欢的、市面上流行过的要素齐全，快节奏剪辑，传统爆炸追车也不少，可以说是良好的消遣对象。

ps：评论里看到有人说什么不理解为什么这部片子低分，换一班大牌来是不是会好点，我觉得这位同学是不是真的有什么误解，这部片子里全是大牌啊！只不过是各国自己的大牌，就好像你拉个汤唯景甜啥的去演也只有我们中国人认识。。。这个对每个国家都有了号召力，其实是很聪明的一件事了。

但是我为什么给三星呢，因为这片子的爽感一般，正因为什么都有，才精力分散，什么都没做到突出，至于故事线就别提了，一般来说如果爽片的爽做到位了，我完全不追究故事线，这个大家心知肚明，爽片的故事线能做到深刻、富有戏剧冲突简直是神片的档次，一般大家都不难为导演对吧，但是当你爽片元素没有发挥好，那就难逃低分了，因为你都没有故事线去撑。

就事论事，本片最大的一个技术上的失误就是“闪回和现在”的分割标记做成了一个在画面左下角的小字幕，且一闪而过。可能导演自己觉得我都打了几号那么大的黑屏了，肯定是讲这个人的过去啊，对，对导演来说很自然，但是对观众来说，如此快的来回闪回剪辑，如果不彻底分清楚，就会造成观众一脸懵逼。

我也有点怀疑导演是为了显示自己的剪辑牛逼，讲故事水平高强而这样快闪，继而引发讨论，增加热度，更何况千禧一代都喜欢速度越快越好。但是爆炸贝就是给我一种“由于不熟悉这个剪法而刻意用到过度掩饰自己不熟悉”这样的感觉。也不看看这是个什么故事：就非常简单，每个人都因为对过去失望而在千万富翁的撮合下放弃旧生活，拯救一方百姓于水火并在团队中找到真爱的故事。讲真，这行字真的把故事内容讲完了真，没别的了。。。。里面的人物都是简单的脸谱化的“好人”、“坏人”。所以好人组就是要去杀坏人组，且越残暴越解恨。这一看就是个爽片设定对吧，那么接下去就应该好好发挥“爽”这个特点吧？

可是爆炸贝非不信邪，一定要展示自己故事讲得如何高级，你本来就是空洞故事，再剪也剪不出什么呀，更何况是强行混剪，导致连这个简单的故事都没讲顺，到处产生阻滞感，快节奏的目的是为了让我爽，不是为了让我不爽吧！

我说的难听点，把一个简单故事剪得混乱到有碍观瞻乍一看其实和花了大心思安排多层次剪辑的故事表面上很像，区别就是静下心来看，后者看的时候会有流畅感，逐层抽丝剥茧，逻辑清晰。诺兰的致命记忆就是一个例子。

那么故事线扔到一边，爽片元素为什么我还是不满意呢？还是因为贪多嚼不烂，我承认每个镜头都很爆炸贝了，甚至用磁铁啥的都是亮点，可是每个人物的特征都立不大起来啊，本来出场还一个个都冷若冰霜，后面就自然组了n对情侣，跳跃性也实在有点大，就好比男主在吧台遇见女主一夜情，居然就把女主照片贴表盘上了，然后连娃都有了！中间就是空洞的，导演觉得反正你自己想象好了，我没时间整这个。。。人物性格立不起来也就算了，为什么连每个人的设置都不怎么清晰的呢？你说你死了个车手，为什么补了个狙击手？谁开车？是不需要开车了？医生为什么除了开头全篇都在外包别的业务？法国女和杀手不都是肉搏型的吗？这就是为什么他们一定要组队见家长的原因？跑酷小哥的功能就是组团建和被拯救？（因为最后一战我就没看出他除了被救以外还有啥功能）。

总之爽的元素表层表达是到位的，可没有系统性，疾速特攻让人爽到就是因为爽得有体系，鹤立鸡群，这个就是感觉整个爽元素的edge都被摊平，文戏差，武戏一般（以2019年标准而言），整个看完就像看了一个大型MV，人人慢动作大光圈什么的。。。幽默感有些地方还是有笑到我，比如杀手要打晕弟弟却死活晕不了什么的。。。算是有些反套路的点，所以给个三分及格。