天外来客1976

有宝的颜值还要追求些什么！一个素颜出演却自带眼线和橘色眼影的人是什么感觉！不过剧本也超前卫的，追求物质等回首时却再也回不去以前的生活。每个人似乎都会这样，但只愿自己不要成为自己当初不想成为的那个人。 在阳光下白得透明的宝就像天使一样，nonono，他本身就是一个天使，纯粹且天真。他就是the man who fell to earth，而现在他也回到自己的星球。落入凡间的一颗星辰

唯有落寞二字，堪配这部片子。 当一道火光从天而降。我知道那是亲爱的宝儿来了。 当宝儿从山顶风尘仆仆地走到他人生的第一条溪流边，喝上第一杯清甜的水。那时镜头长长地定格在他苍白而清俊的面容和细长的手指。他后面是如宝石般灿烂的过午太阳和水光。 他在店里卖掉妻子给他的戒指，在一个特写镜头中，我终于清楚地看到了他的金银眼，如波斯猫或者妖一般美丽的双眸。 他因无法适应电梯带来的失重和超重感而眩晕流鼻血。 当女招待横抱起瘦削的他放在床上。我知道这个女人会迷恋他追随他。 他同时看那么多台电视，像个天才孩子一样。 他那么特别，让女招待无法远离他不经意间散发的魅力。 他在湖边建了座木屋。那个静谧的湖，却让他以一种海啸般的形式看到了他的过往，他在那个干旱无水、有灰白色尘土的外星球的家，他的妻子，还有两个孩子。这不是第一次了。他总是间歇性地恍惚着回到过去，游走在回忆与现实的边缘。 他在湖滨别墅和他的情人住在一起。当他庸俗的情人越来越俗不可耐，歇斯底里，他还是那么淡淡的，像个不食人间烟火的漂亮的精灵。我知道他从不曾爱过她。 他那时早已经成了富翁，因为他有地球人不曾掌握的技术。 他还是像个孩子一样，兴致勃勃地坐在特制的座椅上，搬弄着遥控杆，不停地换台，同时看着那么多台电视，不同的节目。 不知多少年过去，他的屋外成了一片荒沙，旷野的风呼啸着卷过他已经破旧失修的木屋。 他的情人无法忍受和他继续相处而离开，这个女人的眼角和两鬓已经有了抹不去的岁月留痕。 沧海桑田纵变，却不能改写他的容颜。他还是那个俊美得让人爱怜的年轻人。 在那个外星球上，他的妻儿盼不到他，在屋外的荒尘中挣扎，行将就木。 而他无能为力。或者已经无所谓了。 最后一个镜头里，他戴着一顶帽子和一副墨镜，坐在老友面前自言自语。他端起一杯酒，低下头，帽沿遮住了他的面孔。 我知道那会是世界上最美丽而落寞的一张面孔。 无论回不回去，无论能不能回去，他都无法让自己活得更好了，我知道。 家乡有他的妻子，有他们的两个孩子，有安宁的生活，远离喧嚣，他不会被人欺骗被人暗算被人利用被人孤立，不会被那些叫做科学家的人拿来做实验。 可那里除了一望无垠的白色尘土，什么都没有。 而地球上有他最喜欢喝的水，有他看不够的风景，有那么多的人陪他玩，有他施展才能的空间。 但是他无法回去，重温家庭的温暖，只能在这个星球上回忆妻儿的容颜。 他逃离了一种寂寞，却陷入了另一种落寞。 他怎样都不能彻底快乐。他的脸上同时写着心不在焉和忧郁这两种矛盾语言。 一个人看着身边的人和物渐渐老去，而自己永远年轻，永远面对一个簇新的世界，永远无法在原地停留，该是一件多么可怕而无奈的事情。 他唯一的停留，只能是回忆。像过电影一样无法抓在手中的回忆。 有人说，有回忆是一种幸福。但在这里，他的回忆却只是一剂聊以自慰的悲哀。留给他的，只有更深的落寞。

A male alien disguises himself as a British citizen Thomas Jerome Newton (Bowie, in his first movie role), who crash-lands on earth in hope of transporting water back to his draught-plagued home planet, but in iconoclast Nicolas Roeg’s thrall, THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH is much less a heartstring-tugging inter-species tale à la STARMAN (1984) than a rhapsodic welter of total corporeal abandon and existential chaos.

Shot and edited in a desultory but blistering, wired fashion that leaves large portions of elision in its sprawling plot, Mr. Newton is a quick adapter of earthling mannerism and capitalistic canniness, cashes in lucrative patents he immediately accrues masses of fortune and becomes the reclusive wirepuller behind a technology conglomerate, with a figurehead personified by lawyer Mr. Farnsworth (Henry), an implicit gay character whose loyalty is too inflexible for his own good.

While Newton shacks up with an unsophisticated hotel maid Mary-Lou (Clark) in New Mexico, who introduces commonplace human diet to him, booze, church-going and sex, worts and all; a tributary pivots around a skirt-chasing college professor Dr. Nathan Bryce (Torn, in a rapturously predatory mode) merges into the main stream when he is hired as a key technician in fulfilling Newton’s home-returning project, only Bryce soon begins to suspect Newton’s alienness. After revealing his real form to Mary-Lou (which leaves her incontinent and horror-stricken) and leveling with Bryce, a naive Newton is snatched and immured by government agents nearly before his home-returning journey and put under close scientific examination (who tips off the tidings? Bryce or Mary-Lou? We have no clue, maybe Newton is spotted as early as he first emerges, as we glance a suit-attired figure near the commencement).

Marooned on earth and having no means to return to his wife and children, who are languishing on a remote, desert-looking planet, deadly or alive, the television-addicted Newton stays youthful as time wears on, a reunion with an aged Mary-Lou years later blatantly celebrates the film’s most rousing set piece, the “sex and pistol” manifesto in human flesh, copulation and blank gunshots, a heady delirium capturing the epoch’s ethos. A final encounter with Bryce, on the other hand, reveals that earth-stranded Newton might have already assimilated and acculturated to the life as we know it, a sad sack burdened with eternal youth.

An emaciated, auburn-haired Bowie aptly embodies his cult alter ego under pallor, lethargy and an amusing air of self-awareness, his alien comes across as urbane, benevolent, vulnerable, even in front of a dainty Candy Clark, but also strangely disinterested, inscrutable and sexy; Rip Torn and Candy Clark, represent human race’s different sexes, tangibly establish a triangle tie-in with Bowie, though each’s character arc is dismembered and perfunctorily strewn into the scramble which doesn’t go anywhere eventually. When its deadening clamor anticlimactically settles (the foley artists invent a cacophony of noise through the narrative), Roeg’s bash into Sci-Fi sphere is much more self-revealing than horizon-broadening, for what it is worth, it is a hot mess salted with glint of ingenuity.

referential entries: Roeg’s PERFORMANCE (1970, 6.9/10), BAD TIMING (1980, 7.5/10), DON’T LOOK NOW (1973, 8.3/10).

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus Pieter Breughel c. 1558; Oil on canvas, mounted on wood, 73.5 x 112 cm; Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels <Musée des Beaux Arts> About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there always must be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree. In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on. W.H. Auden 1940