美丽男孩

电影音乐很棒。

1. Nic情况有所好转以后回家，爸爸在他睡觉的时候唱着Beautiful Boy的摇篮曲。一开始声音开得小，我还以为那是个无声镜头，直到父亲回忆Nic小时候在机场跟他告别时BGM变大我才听到。让我很惊喜的细节是歌曲不光是约翰列侬的原唱，还有演员的声音，仿佛那首摇篮曲从Nic小时候唱到了现在。而我也终于听到了那句早在预料之中的“I love you more than evergthing”。

2. Nic在公路上开车的经典镜头，背景音乐是我称之为公路音乐最佳的Heart of Gold。

3. 如果说前半段的Nic是在混沌中堕落，他在clear一年多之后的复吸就是清醒着堕落。当他和女生一起堕落着的时候，音乐却是如此浪漫与缓和，仿佛这种沉沦是世上最美的事情。最后Nic想要结束生命那一段，凄美缓慢的女高同样安详而宁静。

4. Nic和女生开车逃出家，继母流着泪开车跟在后面，像是追赶，却没过多久又停了下来。但原来她不是在追，而是在驱赶。之前父亲说要去找儿子的时候，她愤怒地希望丈夫be responsible，当时没看懂，原来她希望丈夫放弃这个可能给自己孩子带来负面影响的哥哥，而她的驱逐也是想要让Nic远离年幼的孩子。不得不说挺绝的。

其实感觉整部电影都是那种节奏缓慢而充满回忆的，真好像吸了一大口drug而变得飘飘然。看其他影评才知道电影参考了父亲和儿子分别写的两本回忆录，这也解释了为什么前半段是父亲的视角为主、而后半段是Nic为主。

要不是看到片尾对现实中的主角后来人生的叙述，单是电影结尾给我的感觉没那么充满希望。因为反反复复多少次，总是以为他彻底clear了、与父亲做了坚定的保证了、被当作戒毒成功的典范了，最后又是新一轮的绝望，好像永无止境，像颗定时炸弹。但是总归会结束的吧。

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

I love you more than everything.

（片中和片尾念到的Charles Bukowski诗作，觉得非常美。找出来分享。）

Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you

when I was a young man I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated. I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman.

I was living a hell in small rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged everything, was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind. women were something to screw and rail at, I had no male friends,

I changed jobs and cities, I hated holidays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbagemen, english accents,spain, france,italy,walnuts and the color orange. algebra angered me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies.

peace and happiness to me were signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind.

but as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women-it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different

from the others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances, the men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone. everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage, the lie was the weapon and the plot was empty, darkness was the dictator.

cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less I needed the better I felt.

maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation. or in mounting the body of some poor drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never accept life as it was, i could never gobble down all its poisons but there were parts, tenuous magic parts open for the asking.

I re formulated I don't know when, date, time, all that but the change occurred. something in me relaxed, smoothed out. i no longer had to prove that I was a man,

I didn't have to prove anything.

I began to see things: coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. or a dog walking along a sidewalk. or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there with its body, its ears, its nose, it was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself and its eyes looked at me and they were beautiful. then- it was gone.

I began to feel good, I began to feel good in the worst situations and there were plenty of those. like say, the boss behind his desk, he is going to have to fire me.

I've missed too many days. he is dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses, he says, 'I am going to have to let you go'

'it's all right' I tell him.

He must do what he must do, he has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporarily, anyhow.

(the whole world is at the throat of the world, everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated, everybody is despondent, disillusioned)

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness.

I embraced that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing,the works.

(don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself- this is a shield and a sickness.)

The knife got near my throat again, I almost turned on the gas again but when the good moments arrived again I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary. I let them take me, I luxuriated in them, I made them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly, I now liked what I saw, almost handsome, yes, a bit ripped and ragged, scares, lumps, odd turns, but all in all, not too bad, almost handsome, better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

and finally I discovered real feelings of others, unheralded, like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, i saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the tote board waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife's head, she so still, I ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

I kissed her in the forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seatbelt, backed out the drive. feeling warm to the fingertips, down to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the houses full and empty of people, I saw the mailman, honked, he waved back at me.

上个月原著作者David和Nick父子来我司座谈，趁刚看完电影，来回忆一下内容。

Nick & David Sheffs 父子印象

当时看到Nick第一印象就觉得发型和甜茶好像，不知是巧合还是谁抄袭谁。不过Nick也打趣说甜茶的发型在加州理发店很火，进店理发都说来个Timothee hair，甚至还有Timothee peach（纯洁的我表示根本听不懂）。Nick本人给我感觉是姿态动作都是美国小伙那种耸肩挠头，说话手舞足蹈，要不是面部略显沧桑，还真让人有种20出头男孩的感觉。这点甜茶在电影里还真的模仿的惟妙惟肖。

David衣着随意，一头精干的短发，眼神矍铄，直到讲起话来，才让人感觉到他的作家身份。这点史蒂夫卡维尔在片中，无论是外表还是感觉，都反差挺大。David说当时知道Steve在试镜自己的角色时别提有多惊讶了，他们俩第一次坐下来聊的时候，Steve向David保证，自己不会像甜茶那样每天10小时粘着原著真人来模仿。所以Steve自成一派的表演也是对自己演技自信的一种体现吧。

David Sheff & Nick Sheff

父子俩谈观影体验

比起对于史蒂夫卡维尔饰演父亲的overwhelming，他们两位对于当时名不见经传的甜茶并没有表现得多么激动。后来甜茶开始shadow Nick, 学习他的一举一动，他俩关系就变得很好，有时还一起冲浪。直到后来看了《Call Me by Your Name》,Nick说他完全被甜茶演技征服了。

David说当时知道Felix要拍后，特意找出了《Broken Circle》来看，惊为天人。后来他们看到《Beautiful Boy》成片以后，也都很感动。他们接下来准备去校园里宣传这部电影，目的是让更多毒瘾青年认识到自己并不孤独，完全有希望走出来。

Nick谈戒毒

Nick说当时吸毒是因为用毒品来逃避现实，他觉得自己是孤独的，没有人能懂自己。后来他能走出来，也是因为发现自己并不孤单，但是自己也非常幸运，有一个这样支持自己的家庭。他们身边有很多人就这样没有走出来，而英年早逝。两位都谈了很多戒毒的心路历程，一度让笔者以为影片会着重描绘Nick如何和毒瘾抗争的，结果发现其实是另一个角度。这里就不细说了，大家有兴趣的话可以看电影。

其实一小时的座谈，聊了很多，但是因为已经过去了一个月，加上当时没有看过电影和原著，所以比较囫囵吞枣。这里只写了能回忆出的一些内容，如果有出入，还请担待。

值得一提的是，当时台下还坐了一排主创，其中有制片人Jeremy Kleiner，主持人说最近几年能想到的好片，几乎都有他的参与，估计是皮特的好搭档？（虽然我并不认识）。Jeremi坐在台下略显局促，跟我想象中好莱坞大制片张扬跋扈的形象完全不一样，甚至一度还眼泛泪光，估计是作为艺术工作者都情感过于丰富细腻吧。

影片并未从尼克的视角展开，以至于人们会觉得恨铁不成钢。尼克拥有一个如此深爱他的父亲，即便父母离婚但给他的爱却从未减少。并且尼克聪明又漂亮，家庭虽算不上幸福但也并不悲惨。无论如何也不至于沦落至此吧？！

是的，和那些无家可归，食不果腹的人们比起来，尼克简直算得上幸福。但成长创伤并非无病呻吟！不是只有生理上遭受的折磨和痛苦才算是伤害，心理上遭受的不安，恐惧和挣扎对一个孩子来说也同样是毁灭性的。也正是这些对于一个孩子来说无法自我消化的伤害和痛苦使尼克不幸的同时患上了抑郁症和躁郁症。大多数人的生活都只是平凡又普通的，即便是遭受的痛苦也是，不是所有的苦难都来的那么极端和戏剧化，但它们的破坏力却丝毫不差。即便没有尼克的视角，我也深刻体会到他受到伤害的每一刻。

如果你依然觉得尼克不不至于此，过于矫情，那你不妨试着想一下：那个曾经完全只属于你的父亲突然有了新的家庭，你多希望可以融入他们，你也做好了去爱他们的准备。但你发现你就是融入不了，不是你的错，也不是他们的错，但，你就是自然而然的被排除在外了。那个曾经只属于你的父亲，有了一个与你无关的爱人，以及两个与你无关的孩子。曾经完整的父爱被分割，被削弱。那些曾经理所当然完全属于你的爱如今却使你感觉到自己像在乞讨。你知道这不是父亲的错，不是继母的错，更不是无辜弟弟妹妹们的错。你的母亲爱你，你的父亲也爱你，但他们不再相爱，所以父母分开也没有错。你没有理由怪罪任何人，于是你的痛苦无从消解，无从发泄。无尽的孤独感和消失的归属感将你抛在了无边的海浪里，你的安感消失的无影无踪。父母的爱在这无尽的大海里随着海浪的起伏在完全相反的方向发出声响。你确信他们都在，你挣扎着追寻着母亲的声音游去，但你越靠近母亲，对于父亲的思念就越是难以抑制，于是你又转身追寻父亲的声音游去。当你越是靠近父亲，母亲失落孤单的影像在你脑海里出现。你感到内疚，懊悔，自责….最终，你筋疲力尽，痛苦又迷茫。

父母离婚再婚，如同犯错的人纠正了自己的错误，而你发现，你的存在却是他们曾经犯错的直接证明。他们都在忙着纠正自己的错误，维护目前的正轨，他们的确都爱你，但他们的相互指责同时也撕裂了你的爱。和母亲在一起时，你必须表现出对母亲更多的爱以表忠心，与父亲在一起时亦然。你爱任何一方的时候都像是对另一方的背叛。这些所有的一切都令你陷入痛苦的无尽深渊，谁都没有错，但却只有你承受着无尽的孤独和折磨。并且，你无法寻求帮助，你甚至没有意识到自己需要帮助。父母依然爱你，从未改变，你只觉得是自己的问题。你的痛苦，不安，敏感，焦虑以及被剥离被孤立的感觉在你身体里四面八方的剧烈拉扯着，直到撕裂……

" Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you.

When I was a young man I felt that these things were dumb, unsophisticated.

I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite. I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman. I was living a hell in small rooms. I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass cursed. I challenged everything was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind.

Women were something to screw and rail at

I had no male friends. I changed jobs and cities. I hated hoildays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movie, Spiders, garbagemen, English accents, Spain, France, Italy, walnuts and color orange.

Algebra angered me. Opera sickened me.Charlie Chaplin was a fake. And flowers were for pansies.

Peace and happiness were to me signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind. But as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women, it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different from the others, I was the same.

They were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances.

The men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone.

Everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage.

The lie was the weapon, and the plot was empty. Darkness was the dictator.

Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark.

The less I needed, the better I felt.

Maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation or in mounting the body of some poor, drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never gobble down all its poisons. But there were parts, tenuous magic parts, open for the asking.

I reformulated. I don't know when-- date, time, all that-- but the change occured.

Something in the relaxed, smoothed out. I no longer had to prove that I was a man. I didn't have to prove anything.

I began to see things. Coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. Or a dog walking along a sidewalk. Or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there, really stopped there, with its body, its ears, its nose.

It was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself, and its eyes looked at me, and they were beautiful. Then it was gone.

I began to feel good. I began to feel good in the most situations, and there were plenty of those. Like say, the boss behind his desk.

He is going to have to fire me. I've missed too many days.He's dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses. He says, ' I am going to have to let you go.' 'It's all right, ' I tell him.

He must do what he must do. He has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend. I'm sorry for him. He's caught.

I walk out into the blazing sunshine. The whole day is mine, temporarily anyhow.

The whole world is at the throat of the world. Everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated. Everybody is despondent, disillusioned.

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness. I remember that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing, the works.

Don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself.

This is a shield and a sickness. The knife got near my throat again. I almost turned on the gas again.

But when the good moments arrived again, I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary.

I let them take me. I luxuriated in them. I bade them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly.

I now liked what I saw. Almost handsome . Yes, a bit ripped and ragged. Scars, lumps, odd turns. But all in all, not too bad.

Almost hadsome.

Better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

And finally I discovered real feelings for others, unheralded.

Like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving for the tracks, I saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there, covers pulled high, just the shape of her head there.

Not forgetting centuries of living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead, but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the Earth turning, the tote board waiting for me.

I saw the shape or my wife's head, she so still. I ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

I kissed her on forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seat belt, backed out the drive.

Feeling warm to the fingertips, dowm to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the house full and empty of people.

I saw the mailman, honked. He waved back at me."

（撸了生肉）

茶老师的演技真的太厉害 不得不说整个电影确实很乱很没有重点又冗长，bgm也 莫名其妙 但是茶老师的part真的让人看到心疼，literally心疼，把Nic的绝望和挣扎都表现的很真实，还有吸完毒的状态也拿捏的很到位 茶老师前途无量

—————————二刷分割线———————— •第一次看的时候感觉配乐简直是生硬到不可理喻，二刷反而觉得配乐有种戏谑的效果（比如David尝试病毒的时候以及歌词和剧情的对应）

•David口口声声说他想要understand Nic，但他想要了解的只是他想像的Nic（所谓的beautiful boy）

•David做了那么多的研究去了解毒品，但是却从来没有试着去了解他的儿子

•Nic有那么多次都向David发出了求救的信号但是David每次都迟钝到直接忽略这些，然后再把所有的事都怪在Nic身上，就像他是一个完全尽职尽责的家长。David确实像Nic所说的，有很强的控制欲，他一直去“努力”的很大原因也是出于他没能成功地掌控局面（掌控他的儿子）

•Nic太敏感了太脆弱了，他一直一直都想得到爸爸（家人）的爱和关心（"I want them to be proud of me."），一直都想要一个家一个safe place，David的新家庭对Nic来说并不是安慰而是刺激因为弟弟妹妹们的生活全是他不曾得到也不会再得到的，他也根本无法融入根本无法在任何地方找到归宿感（爸爸从来没有真正试着去理解他，房间被堆满杂物，"be invited"），所以他只能把自己藏起来，自己去填补他一直渴望但是又得不到的东西（因为没有能力改变现实所以干脆逃离现实）

•这部电影其实说仅仅是关于毒瘾也许不太准确，我觉得更多的是Nic的心理疾病（抑郁症甚至是躁郁症），家庭是诱因，吸毒是结果（茶老师说过why不是重点但是我觉得why才是真的重点）

•二刷之后看懂了很多，不知道真实世界里的Nic怎么样了，但是希望他是真的填补了自己心里的big black hole（虽然觉得很不可能……）