Voice 1 (male "professional announcer" type): This neighborhood(1) was made for the wretched dignity of the petty bourgeoisie, for respectable occupations and intellectual tourism. The sedentary population of the upper floors was sheltered from the influences of the street. This neighborhood has remained the same. It was the strange setting of our story, where a systematic questioning of all the diversions and works of a society, a total critique of its idea of happiness, was expressed in acts.
These people also scorned "subjective profundity". They were interested in nothing but an adequate and concrete expression of themselves.
Voice 2 (Debord, monotone): Human beings are not fully conscious of their real life - usually groping in the dark; overwhelmed by the consequences of their acts; at every moment groups and individuals find themselves confronted with results they have not wished.
Voice 1: They said that oblivion was their ruling passion. They wanted to reinvent everything each day; to become the masters and possessors of their own lives.
Just as one does not judge a man according to the conception he has of himself, one cannot judge such periods of transition according to their own consciousness; on the contrary, one must explain the consciousness through the contradictions of material life, through the conflict between social conditions and the forces of social production.
The progress achieved in the domination of nature was not yet matched by a corresponding liberation of everyday life. Youth passed away among the various controls of resignation.
Our camera has captured for you a few aspects of a provisional microsociety.
The knowledge of empirical facts remains abstract and superficial as long as it is not concretized by its integration into the whole "” which alone permits the supersession of partial and abstract problems so as to arrive at their concrete essence, and implicitly at their meaning.
This group was on the margins of the economy. It tended toward a role of pure consumption, and first of all the free consumption of its time. It thus found itself directly engaged in qualitative variations of everyday life but deprived of any means to intervene in them.
The group ranged over a very small area. The same times brought them back to the same places. No one went to bed early. Discussion on the meaning of all this continued...
Voice 2: "Our life is a journey "” In the winter and the night. "” We seek our passage..."�
Voice 1: The abandoned literature nevertheless exerted a delaying action on new affective formulations.
Voice 2: There was the fatigue and the cold of the morning in this much-traversed labyrinth, like an enigma that we had to resolve. It was a looking-glass reality through which we had to discover the potential richness of reality.
On the bank of the river evening began once again; and caresses; and the importance of a world without importance. Just as the eyes have a blurred vision of many things and can see only one clearly, so the will can strive only incompletely toward diverse objects and can completely love only one at a time.
Voice 3 (young girl): No one counted on the future. It would never be possible to be together later, or anywhere else. There would never be a greater freedom.
Voice 1: The refusal of time and of growing old automatically limited encounters in this narrow, contingent zone, where what was lacking was felt as irreparable. The extreme precariousness of the means of getting by without working was at the root of this impatience which made excesses necessary and breaks definitive.
Voice 2: One never really contests an organization of existence without contesting all of that organization's forms of language.
Voice 1: When freedom is practiced in a closed circle, it fades into a dream, becomes a mere representation of itself. The ambiance of play is by nature unstable. At any moment "ordinary life"� can prevail once again. The geographical limitation of play is even more striking than its temporal limitation. Any game takes place within the contours of its spatial domain. Around the neighborhood, around its fleeting and threatened immobility, stretched a half-known city where people met only by chance, losing their way forever.
The girls who found their way there, because they were legally under the control of their families until the age of eighteen, were often recaptured by the defenders of that detestable institution. They were generally confined under the guard of those creatures who among all the bad products of a bad society are the most ugly and repugnant: nuns.
What usually makes documentaries so easy to understand is the arbitrary limitation of their subject matter. They describe the atomization of social functions and the isolation of their products. One can, in contrast, envisage the entire complexity of a moment which is not resolved into a work, a moment whose movement indissolubly contains facts and values and whose meaning does not yet appear. The subject matter of the documentary would then be this confused totality.
Voice 2: The era had arrived at a level of knowledge and technical means that made possible, and increasingly necessary, a direct construction of all aspects of a liberated affective and practical existence. The appearance of these superior means of action, still unused because of the delays in the project of liquidating the commodity economy, had already condemned aesthetic activity, whose ambitions and powers were both outdated. The decay of art and of all the values of former mores had formed our sociological background. The ruling class's monopoly over the instruments we needed to control in order to realize the collective art of our time had excluded us from a cultural production officially devoted to illustrating and repeating the past. An art film on this generation can only be a film on its absence of real creations.
Everyone unthinkingly followed the paths learned once and for all, to their work and their home, to their predictable future. For them duty had already become a habit, and habit a duty. They did not see the deficiency of their city. They thought the deficiency of their life was natural. We wanted to break out of this conditioning, in quest of another use of the urban landscape, in quest of new passions. The atmosphere of a few places gave us intimations of the future powers of an architecture it would be necessary to create to be the support and framework for less mediocre games. We could expect nothing of anything we had not ourselves altered. The urban environment proclaimed the orders and tastes of the ruling society just as violently as the newspapers. It is man who makes the unity of the world, but man has extended himself everywhere. People can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is alive. There were obstacles everywhere. There was a cohesion in the obstacles of all types. They maintained the coherent reign of poverty. Everything being connected, it was necessary to change everything by a unitary struggle, or nothing. It was necessary to link up with the masses, but we were surrounded by sleep.
Voice 3: The dictatorship of the proletariat is a desperate struggle, bloody and bloodless, violent and peaceful, military and economic, educational and administrative, against the forces and traditions of the old world.
Voice 1: In this country it is once again the men of order who have rebelled. They have reinforced their power. They have been able to aggravate the grotesqueness of the ruling conditions according to their will. They have embellished their system with the funereal ceremonies of the past.
Voice 2: Years, like a single instant prolonged to this point, come to an end.
Voice 1: What was directly lived reappears frozen in the distance, fit into the tastes and illusions of an era, carried away with it.
Voice 2: The appearance of events that we have not made, that others have made against us, now obliges us to be aware of the passage of time, its results, the transformation of our own desires into events. What differentiates the past from the present is precisely its out-of-reach objectivity; there is no more should-be; being is so consumed that it has ceased to exist. The details are already lost in the dust of time. Who was afraid of life, afraid of the night, afraid of being taken, afraid of being kept?
Voice 3: What should be abolished continues, and we continue to wear away with it. We are engulfed. We are separated. The years pass and we haven't changed anything.
Voice 2: Once again morning in the same streets. Once again the fatigue of so many similarly passed nights. It is a walk that has lasted a long time.
Voice 1: Really hard to drink more.
Voice 2: Of course one might make a film of it. But even if such a film succeeds in being as fundamentally disconnected and unsatisfying as the reality it deals with, it will never be more than a re-creation "” poor and false like this botched traveling shot.
Voice 3: There are now people who pride themselves on being authors of films, as others were authors of novels. They are even more backward than the novelists because they are unaware of the decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time, ignorant of the end of the arts of passivity. They are praised for their sincerity since they dramatize, with more personal depth, the conventions of which their life consists. There is talk of the liberation of the cinema. But what does it matter to us if one more art is liberated through which Tom, Dick or Harry can joyously express their slavish sentiments? The only interesting venture is the liberation of everyday life, not only in the perspectives of history but for us and right away. This entails the withering away of alienated forms of communication. The cinema, too, has to be destroyed.
Voice 2: In the final analysis, stars are created by the need we have for them, and not by their talent or lack of talent or even by the film industry or advertising. Miserable need, dismal, anonymous life that would like to expand itself to the dimensions of cinema life. The imaginary life on the screen is the product of this real need. The star is the projection of this need.
The images of the advertisements during the intermissions are more suited than any others for evoking an intermission of life.
To really describe this era it would no doubt be necessary to show many other things. But what would be the point?
Better to grasp the totality of what has been done and what remains to be done than to add more ruins to the old world of the spectacle and of memories.
1. This film, which evokes the lettrist experiences at the origin of the situationist movement, opens with shots of the Paris district frequented by the lettrists in the early 1950s.
不错了，在现有的鸡掰审核体系下能拍出故事结构较为像模像样的东西，叙事交叉，演员演技用心，服化道特效说得过去，超过了很多毫无诚意的院线电影。除了不是鬼片……也不恐怖……
如果想表达进化之类的主创是不是应该去了解一定的生物学知识而不是在这yy。吃塑料有什么可怕先进的？有异食癖可以去治。
怎么讲，幺蛾子不等同于科幻，以大胆闻名的古早怪咖，如今还想在这条赛道上保级，要保持对外部世界的贪婪，然而愈发向内所表露出的贫瘠，与自大、无知、丧心病狂日益衰退后膨胀的恐惧感相关，只是可惜他本有可能放弃所谓的“艺术感”，纯粹靠卖弄自己面对落伍的恐惧语境，就可以折腾出更好的表达
故事内核不错 前半段的分段式故事显得割裂 时运如此 都不容易
借鬼怪故事，显人性之恶.结局拔了一下高度，蛮有趣的.和扬名立万一个套路.算是高质量网大了.这种质素的民俗网大多给我上！！
在身体/尸体上钻出孔洞？是魔鬼的契约还是动物的变形或是机能的装置？未来罪行的悖论不处于未来是一种对新道德的许诺而罪行总是来自历史，它处于一个这样的地带，即一块被进化、艺术、内在美这些词语包裹起来的用工业废料制成的糖果——尽管它那病态毒性的紫色已然挑衅般地向我们揭示了自身的毁灭性，也即一具身体/尸体不再能哀嚎（弗朗西斯·培根的名字甚至可疑地和毕加索、杜尚并列在一起），而各类形似骷髅或棺材的现代机器和酷似抱脸虫的遥控器却在发出窃窃私语。
悬高转动的镜头+鱼眼推看得令人反胃，尤其是搭配了极其无聊的对话剧情之后。一定要说的话 电影的矫揉造作跟某些行为艺术确实很像了 艺术堕落为对极端刺激的消费。近年多部电影呈现出了这种趋势 是悲哀
——
编剧是很不错的，整个故事完整，深度可以，就是人物塑造的有点差意思，导致有些反转认不清楚人。故事很好，就是导演水平欠佳，演员演技有些地方还是有些尬，特效乍一看还可以，多了就是很假。如果有大投资，这个剧本再完善下，多半小时剧情可以拍的更好。至少没有快进很舒服的看完了全集，比现在很多院线电影强多了
其实到最后还是涉及到了对于灵魂的探讨，因为在这种前提下，灵肉早已融为一体，你不再是被腐朽肉体束缚的灵魂
虽然受限不能有鬼，但是叙事逻辑还是可以的，多视角讲故事还是有用过心的。想看狐狸大仙！希望狐狸最后还是出来一下的。3.5分可以有。
能看这片都是奔着鬼片看的，不然会大失所望。打着鬼怪的幌子我都会减一星
到最后逻辑都通了。最后的那一幕美好的情景我理解为乌托邦吧。可惜没看到美丽的狐妖，有点伤
在网大里算不错了，虽然没啥惊喜，但是个完整的故事~
近乎柯南伯格写给自己的一篇悼词，话语的私密性包裹在影像的风格共识下，那些器官、刀口、利爪与纤支镜仅是“表演”，雅典搁浅的船舶与凋敝的楼宇中挣扎着隐秘的愁绪，那是衰老与病变下对创作和死亡的疑虑，他终于以自己为研究对象进行了一场肉体与观念的“内在”究极剖解，疼痛、感染、消化不良、吞咽困难、睡眠障碍、组织瘤变，柯南伯格毫不避违老去的现实，又通过赋予病症以现代艺术特质和政治战斗意义，使得自己和电影中逐渐觉醒的莫特森同步叠化为宗教领袖般的先驱，即关乎美学，又关乎生理，并逐渐过渡到变革——从回避器官进化机能仅维持保守秩序下的生长抑制，到蜕变为接受和拥抱身体演变解放的自主与自由，怀着那个关于家庭和伴侣的痛苦却温柔的梦，重拾作为人的切身生理感知意志，向死而生，贞德式的脸庞与泪水下，他在永恒的世界中动人瞑目。
一个故事 不同人讲出不相同的剧情
柯南伯格的正常发挥，有抗体之后也不会再觉得它有多么的惊世骇俗，而且它的晦涩也让人看得很累。
难得的国产恐怖片能讲一个完整的故事，果然国内还是不缺好编剧，就是资本不想投入，剧组不良心导致每年挂着恐怖片名号卖狗肉的电影那么多
很多都没交代就莫名其妙就那样了，寓意挺好，毕竟最可怕的是人心。可是圆不起来
好不伦不类的感觉 大家都喜欢拿这电影与《钛》作比较 后者是无缘由的暴力和发泄 前者却是丧失戾气后的一种回归自我 肿瘤成了新的器官 再把器官裸露出来做表演 触目惊心丧心病狂煞有介事，裸露被称为漂亮 痛感即活着 以这样的观念来审度 未来世界也不过是个可笑的玩意。
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