I finally watched Carol on a long train ride. I took a train because I’m finally tired of flying. The little time you save by flying is wasted on getting to and from the airport, going through the security check, waiting at the boarding gate, smiling at your fellow passengers, saying Grüß Gott and Auf wiedersehen, making sure that your seat belt is fastened, being constantly disturbed by the polite flight attendants that offer you snacks that you don’t even need but feel short of attention when they are not offered, so on and so forth.
It’s not about lesbian love; it’s about love. As we all might agree, your takeaway from a movie (or a book or anything) depends largely on your own understanding of the matter in question. We can only see so much that our eyesight allows us to see. The quality of the movie on my computer was poor. At some points I almost made screenshots because the scenes looked perfectly like oil paintings. Well, impressionistic ones. I was somewhat disappointed by the last scene. Therese abandoned her party after all and went to look for Carol because she just couldn’t resist it, as every time Carol asked her to do something. She was standing in the middle of the fancy restaurant filled with smartly-dressed people, as if a lost soul that awaited her salvation. Her eyes lit up desperately when she saw Carol among the crowd, elegant and self-assured as always. Carol looked up, and a subtle smile spread around the corners of her red-lipped mouth. The end. I respect that movies try to end on a hopeful note. They loved each other, however flawed and doomed it might be, and they must end up together. It rarely happens like that in reality. A Carol cannot love a Therese the way a Therese loves and needs to be loved. Love is an exchange. In the case of a Carol and a Therese, it’s never the giving and receiving of the same thing. And Therese will have to learn to make peace with the lost so-called love that she naively believes to be the ultimate worth of living. And Carol will have to learn to acknowledge her weakness and cowardice hidden behind her armor that comes with age and experience but by no means impenetrable. Who do you think will be the sadder one if this love is gone? The sad truth is, the one who loved more. The one who believes in love fervently is the one hurt the most by the betrayal by love. And one day, Therese will become Carol. And Carol will no longer exist.
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五年前在佛罗伦萨小住的时候,一个人坐火车旅行,一次到了费拉拉,距威尼斯只有六欧远的地方,还是忍住没有去。当时的执念非常天真,威尼斯听上去是一个如此浪漫的地方,我怎么可以不把第一次献给我爱的那个人。
只怪当时没有人质问我一句,那些你非要等到所谓爱的人一起去的地方、一起做的事,难道没有其人你就一辈子都不去、不做,难道你就不活了吗。 况且我也并不是没找到我爱的人,只是他并不爱我,并没有想要跟我去浪漫的威尼斯,也并没有想要跟我共度余生。我以我冷静的方式动之以情晓之以理过,冷嘲热讽过,摇尾乞怜过,威逼利诱过,很遗憾,像所有没有感动我的人一样,我也没有能够感动他。像所有陷入爱情得不偿失的人一样,我差一点就走不出自怨自艾悲天悯人的剧情。差一点就因为恨一个人,恨整个维也纳,恨整个世界。 后来我就弃掉了这种念想。找到一个爱的人,像所有其他的事情一样,都是有利有弊的,都是可有可无的,都是没有什么大不了。 即便是在审美疲劳的今日,威尼斯还是美得配得上一切赞誉之辞。虽然也是一个游客成灾的地方,竟完全没有丝毫的排斥心理,哪怕是塞在河道边摩肩接踵地观看Carnival开幕演出的时候,也是心情十分坦然。第二天,街上已然有了穿Carnival服装戴各色假面的人们,华丽而沉稳地穿过闹市,仿佛他们本就不属于这个嘈杂的时代,高贵而无所顾忌。漂亮的意大利小姑娘打扮成公主的模样,在家长的陪伴下傲娇地挪步前行。满街除了漫无目的的游客,便是大大小小的面具商店,有的做工精致,有的价格低廉,总有你愿意购买的一款。似乎整个威尼斯就是在向你呐喊一个道理:你所看到的面孔,无论多么美丽或者丑陋,无非是摘下即无用的面具而已。想到蔡崇达所说的,皮囊常常拖累了灵魂。 我落脚的宾馆在一条狭窄的巷子里,大厅跟房间都小而拥挤,但精心的布置让人时刻记得自己所在之处。一位员工虽然坚持跟我讲英文,但服务态度好到让我不至于对此耿耿于怀。我想起沃尔夫斯堡我每隔一个月入住两周的Park Hotel那个早餐时必会带着感人微笑迎上来问好的男员工,他永远都记得我要点的咖啡。其实最终让人记忆深刻倍感温暖的还不是这些陌生人做的细微小事,哪有什么惊天动地的爱情。 跟旅伴波兰小哥一起找到TripAdvisor上被盛赞的一家面具店,在Rialto桥附近,外观就能觉出与众不同。走进只能容纳三四人的店面,一股新鲜颜料的气息扑鼻而来,店主Sergio穿着工作服在认真涂画一顶新的面具。墙上贴着几张他与好莱坞明星的合影,随之而来的是他眼中的淡然,不悲不喜。我挑了一顶金色的面具,他推荐另外一款式样类似但镶嵌了珠子的女士面具,非常美。他说,虽然这已经是他第三十八个Carnival了,这顶依然是他最爱的女士面具。我试了半天,还是决定选第一顶,因为更适合我的脸型。波兰小哥挑中一个Joker的面具。我们付了钱,心满意足地离开。 我看着扑面而来的情侣们,不觉为他们感到欣慰而可惜。欣慰的是,他们的确找到了那个能够相伴去威尼斯的爱人,比我幸运多了;可惜的是,当一个人决定与另一个人相伴时,她就很难保持完整了。我们本来都是作为一个个体降临人世的,却在路途中因为孤单而与人结伴而行,继而逐渐失去原本的那个个体而转化成一个同一体。这种转化很多时候是不可逆的,因为它让你对孤单的承受能力成倍下降,直到为零。两个人结合在一起共同进退,自然会比一个人强大许多,但对其中任何一个而言,与其说转化不如说是一种退化。然后在街头某个橱窗里看到帕索里尼的一句话: 我的独立 是我的强项 而它暗示了我的孤独 即我的弱点 多么正确的一个悖论。也许独立并不是强项,而孤独也并非弱点。它们只是两个同时并存的真相,不带任何感情色彩,没有好坏,不分对错。它们只是能够在必要时支撑起你空无他人的世界,告诉你你为独立所做的努力,并不该在孤独面前崩塌。 告诉你你并不需要等待或者寻找另外一个人,来让你的世界完整。因为你的世界是否完整,从来不取决于你之外的任何人。 你真的以为你等的那个人,不是你自己吗。 |
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