话题:《花木兰》豆瓣评分才4.7 ,刘亦菲演技这回被吐槽了!(中英文)
《花木兰》主题曲《Reflection (2020)》Christina
引言:
最近,迪士尼真人版《花木兰》评分火了,一看,豆瓣居然评分4.7分!!!虽然,评分很低,但是依旧挡不住去看的冲动,毕竟是中国的传奇故事,搜索《花木兰》,视频点击量最高的博主给出的以下评价,包括电影情节、演戏、电影的不足和惊喜。这个点评视频的大意就是电影剧情不连贯,缺乏重要信息,需要依靠动画版去弥补,动作戏不“高雅”,传达的东西不尽人意。
戴锦华:当今世界,不消费的人,就是社会的“隐形人”(2019)
标题:《性别与叙事:当代中国电影中的女性》节选秦香莲与花木兰
(戴锦华著,黄莎莉试读2020. 9.12)
戴锦华:与社会议题反向进行的女性议题(2019)
迪士尼真人版《花木兰》三大看点:华人巨星云集,或将再现史诗级武侠电影(2019)
Chris mentioned something that his wife noticed when they were watching this. That being that Mulan is originally told by her family that she has great gifts for battle but she needs to hide this from others. So he says hers is not a personal journey that you can root for, like Casey Seiger in Officer and a Gentleman (1982), where she has to work very hard to fulfill her dream of being a flyer. She has a minor part in the film but her spunk was memorable. But I digress.
Hmm. A female character who just picks up a sword and is an instant expert with it....where have I seen this before? Cough...Rhea...cough. At any rate, Disney continues on its path of grinding out cinematic oatmeal for the masses. Walt would not be proud.
用诺兰《信条》BGM打开《花木兰》画风突转,刘亦菲神秘来袭
New York Times ReviewA Flower Blooms in AdversityFeet flying, Mulan enters her new movie with speed and wit. She’s a tyke when she first appears, chasing a protesting chicken. When it takes flight, so does Mulan, by scampering over roofs and all but dancing in the air. The bird is one of the few things that elude her during this otherwise less-than-buoyant epic, which tracks Mulan as she transforms from an unruly daughter into a masculinized warrior in the name of family, nation and those twinned imperial powers called China and Disney.
Set jointly in the Old World and in that newer mythic realm of happily-ever-after female empowerment, this live-action “Mulan,” directed by Niki Caro, is pretty much what happens when a legend meets Disney’s global bottom-line. It’s lightly funny and a little sad, filled with ravishing landscapes and juiced up with kinetic fights (if not enough of them). It has antiseptic violence, emotional uplift and the kind of protagonist that movie people like to call relatable: a brave, pretty young woman (the suitably appealing Yifei Liu), who loves her family, but doesn’t quite fit in (yet). She also doesn’t sing, a small mercy given the tuneless warbling in Disney’s 1998 animated film.
As in that earlier movie and the original ballad, this “Mulan” is set in motion by love and predicated on a valiant deceit. Shortly after the story kicks in, invaders attack. The emperor (an almost unrecognizable Jet Li) sends out emissaries with the demand that each family send a man to help defend China. Concerned for her father (Tzi Ma), a disabled veteran, Mulan furtively takes his place — as well as his armor and sword — running off to protect him and the country. She tames her hair, binds her breasts, joins the emperor’s forces and soon distinguishes herself while bunking, training and fighting alongside men who remain remarkably oblivious to her deception.
Stories about women bravely going against the cultural and social grain can be delectable catnip, and it’s no different here. Mulan is an insistently attractive character, no matter how indifferently conceptualized or bluntly politicized. Her tale has been traced back as far as the fourth to sixth centuries, though the first written versions appear later. (The new movie borrows from different dynasties; it was written by Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Lauren Hynek and Elizabeth Martin.) The ballad’s Mulan enters weaving and sighing over the news that the ruler a.k.a. “the Khan” has mobilized his troops and that her father is among the men who’s been summoned.
The original ballad is fascinating, partly because most of it involves Mulan’s departure and return, privileging her life with her family and reducing her years of battle to a handful of lines. Like other screen adaptations, this one spends considerable time on her life as a soldier — movies love war — including her training under Commander Tung (the martial-arts star Donnie Yen, who flashes suave moves). Like almost all the men in Mulan’s life, Tung is a nice guy, a strict but benignly paternalistic proxy both for the emperor he serves and for the father she left behind. And, also like most of the men in this telling, he doesn’t make the patriarchy’s rules; he just follows them.
The movie glides over some of its squirmy issues while Caro busies herself marshaling all its many whirring parts. As a director, she tends to overshoot and overcut, sometimes to distraction; she fusses up one conversation with swooping shots from different angles. But she handles both intimacy and action capably, even if she’s a bit too fond of long shots that emphasize the smallness of the conscripts. (The movie was filmed in New Zealand and China.) Over time, the bright palette she deploys in the opening subsides though it never fully fades into the dun hues that typify many contemporary war films. Despite the death toll and corpse-riddled landscapes, this remains a preternaturally sunny, pointedly bloodless PG-13 affair.
The movie takes on gender more boldly than it handles warfare. Early on, before Mulan leaves home, there’s a brief, lively scene of her galloping on her horse alongside two hares, an image plucked from the original ballad. The motif appears at the close of the ballad when Mulan — after returning home and resuming her feminine identity, her other masquerade — is visited by old comrades. Seeing her, they express shock that they didn’t know she was a woman. She responds to their surprise with a question that ends her story on an expansive, philosophical note: “But when a pair of hares run side by side/Who can distinguish whether I in fact am male or female?”
Who indeed?! One of the lessons of Mulan’s tale is that women and men aren’t simply equals, but are finally indistinguishable when and where it counts: on the move, on the run, in the heat of the battle. Caro makes the same point in scenes that show Mulan rising to the occasion again and again, whether she’s shooting an arrow, twirling a weapon or executing some fancy riding that is so fluidly staged that it makes you long for more. If anything, the movie could use much more of Mulan in action, particularly when she faces off against an enigma, Xianniang (the great Gong Li).
Xianniang is the movie’s most vibrant creation and an original addition to the Mulan chronicles. Although her hauteur and flowing costume bring to mind Maleficent, Xianniang is effectively a rather-more stern stand-in for the wisecracking dragon (Eddie Murphy) in the animated film, one of those cutesy Jiminy Cricket superegos who pal around with Disney heroes. Despite her double life, Mulan has soldier friends and one justly anemic romantic prospect (she’s at war, dammit), but no one gets into her head like Xianniang does. She gets in yours, too, partly because Gong is such a charismatic presence — a virtuoso of physical quietude, she inexorably draws your gaze — though also because she’s playing the only character graced with real mystery.
From the moment she appears it’s hard not to wish the movie were more about Xianniang, who — from her shape-shifting to her gold headgear (à la “The Assassin”) and talons — suggests a more complex vision of women and power than this Mulan offers. Xianniang is unfortunately saddled with the main villain, Böri Khan (Jason Scott Lee), whose name and grimace evoke Genghis Khan, the Mongolian ruler who conquered China. The scholar Louise Edwards has noted that over time, Mulan has gone from fighting for an ambiguous country to fighting unambiguously for China. Here, she is up against a largely faceless enemy whose headscarves read as Orientalist fantasies.
One pleasure of Xianniang as a character is her ambiguity, that she seems beyond the masculine-feminine dualism forced on Mulan, who goes from being prettied up as bride material to suiting up in a man’s army and then something else. Mulan’s metamorphosis is complicated, to the movie’s credit. Whether she navigates gender satisfyingly is yet another question, one that will be best answered by the girls and women who yearn for more characters that look like them, speak to them. Some will find it here; others will take this story and run with it: they will wear its costumes, play with its dolls, and they will rewatch, rethink, remake this tale until it becomes a perfect reflection of their desires. 《花木兰》中文主题曲
自己 - 刘亦菲
词:姚谦
曲:Matthew Wilder
编曲:David Campbell
监制:陈少琪
仔细地 看着波光中清晰的倒影
是另一个自己
它属于 我最真实的表情
不愿意 生活中掩饰真心敷衍了
爱我的人的眼睛
我 心中的自己
每一秒 都愿意
为爱放手去追寻
用心去珍惜
隐藏在 心中每一个真实的心情
现在释放出去
我想要 呈现世界前更有力量的
更有勇气的生命
我 眼中的自己
每一天 都相信
活得越来越像我爱的自己
我心中的自己
每一秒 都愿意
为爱放手去追寻
用心去珍惜
只有爱里才拥有自由气息
诚实 面对自己才有爱的决心
我 眼中的自己
每一天 都相信
活得越来越像我爱的自己
我 心中的自己
每一秒 都愿意
为爱放手去追寻
去珍惜 去爱
为爱放手去追寻
用心去珍惜
超全盘点12个版本《花木兰》,刘亦菲呼声最高(2019)
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国产原创芭蕾舞剧《花木兰》(2018)
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