『漫游』酷论坛>『海外生活』>[原创]关于“挪威的森 ..
[原创]关于“挪威的森林”和“关于莉莉周的一切”的论文~~ARAEL小命叫我帖的
Harmatia@2003-12-13 06:19
嗯，非常感谢让我得以下载后者的电影和OST，实在是救了命啊。既然答应要贴出来的，那就贴出来吧……没人看也没关系。 最后因为时间问题没有proofread, 所以大概有几个文法和拼写错误在里面，不过反正也没人看这么令人头痛的东西的……
Escaping from Adolescence
—of Resistance and Freedom in Norwegian Wood and “All about Lily Chou-Chou”
The title of this essay is, admittedly, far from an unassuming one. This is especially true considering that it revolves around but two characters—neither of them protagonist—from two drastically different mediums of art addressing two very different topics with some four decades in-between them. Nevertheless, as I believe that all forms of art are reflections on and extensions of Life with a capital L, both Norwegian Wood and “All about Lily Chou-Chou” can be taken as comments on a particularly melancholy aspect of the so-called human condition.
The word “youth” beckons nothing less than growth, possibility, and vivacity. In fact, the Chinese and Japanese words for it can be broken up into two parts, with the first meaning “green” and the second meaning “spring”. The Chinese translation of “All about Lily Chou-Chou”’s title is “Doukou Nianhua”, a common phrase used to describe the youth years and all of their fresh hopes like the new bud of a plant. Yet Õshima Nagisa’s “Cruel Story of Youth” is more befitting as a title for “All about Lily Chou-Chou”, for youth can also be a dark wood from which a stray traveler might never find his way home. Of course it is true that life presents all people with challenges at the whim of what is commonly called fate or chance or divine Will, yet due to their rather awkward point in life—that uncertain junction between adulthood and childhood with all their associated meanings and choices—the challenges of adolescence can be particularly painful because adolescents, their sensitivity heightened due to the rapidly changing environment, are usually equipped with neither true wisdom nor adequate power to influence it. In the case of Midori in Norwegian Wood, one sees the forced maturation of an adolescent in the face of difficult environments and a subversive shift of the role of the usual caregiver and the care-receiver parent-child relationship—and the concept of “youth” is more like an unfulfilled longing and remnants of distant memory. In “All about Lily Chou-Chou”, however, there is no adulthood to serve as a viable exit from adolescence and all of its laments; thus there is no discernable hope for one who is believed to be in the age made for hopes and dreams.
I. Midori
Kobayashi Midori’s existence in Norwegian Wood is an interesting one in its wonderful complexity. In many ways she was far from the “girly girl” stereotype and thus described as “fiercely independent” on the English edition’s back cover, yet she would still explode on Toru when the latter did not notice her change in hairstyle, citing “I am a girl”. She was certainly carrying the burdens in her life as maturely as any adult, yet the readers also see moments of impulsiveness and plaintive cries for help. Thought it may be easy to forget amidst all her jokes with Toru, the existence Midori was used of knowing was certainly far from easy or kind. After all, what kind of life could have reduced two young women to the point of having no tear left to shed at their own father’s funeral? In Midori’s words, one that made the funeral itself “an absolute picnic” in comparison. (Page 221) Between continuously taking care of her ailing mother and then her father, going to a suffocating elite school and unable to receive attention let alone indulgence from anybody, it is clear that Midori’s childhood in the conventional sense was cut short and she was forced to grow up fast and early by the harsh circumstances. Indeed, this was even reflected in her physique: as Toru observed, Midori “had somehow skipped the growth stage in which the hips are solidified, and this gave her a far more neutral look than most girls.” (Page 68) Compared to the children of her older acquaintances who spend days away in play and consumption, from its outset Midori’s story reads like the classical virtuous young woman preserving in adversity with prudence, domestic virtues, and an iron will.
However, that would be missing the essential contradictions within Midori, for as stated before her character is not a simplified stereotype and the readers found her rebelling against the circumstances even while taking necessary measures to cope with it. One of these forms of protest and resistance was her seeking of “reverting back” to her conceived natural role as the young girl, pampered and waited on. Having been the caretaker and guardian from so early on for so long, it is not surprising that Midori sought in her intimate relationship what she could not attain otherwise—being indulgenced or even spoiled for once. Hence her pursuing of the relationship with Toru despite knowing Toru’s fixation with somebody else: “I have never been able to have my own way with anybody, not once in the twenty years I’ve been alive.” (Page 227) Thus all the seemingly strange and impetuous demands to Toru in the role of first confidant and then boyfriend.
Another interesting form of escape from the rather harsh realities took place in the Kobayashi home’s kitchen. As none other member of the family cared for cooking, a very young Midori took up cooking cuisine—to which end she wore the same bra for three months in order to buy an egg fryer. It is true that cooking is traditionally considered as a “feminine” or “domestic” craft, yet in Midori’s case it was her first sign of independence and free will, despite the obstacles her parents posed by refusing to recognize the validity of her claims and not appropriating her the necessary funds. However, here was also the foreshadow of her premature assumption of the role as the caregiver soon after, for although she cooked for the entire family and strived to “do it right”, in a stinging stroke of irony she herself cannot fully enjoy the fruits of her labors, as cooking ruins her appetite. (Page 68-69) Yet Midori kept at it, presumably because it was something of her own and she could do without intervention—even though such a lack of intervention is better interpreted as disinterest and neglect.
In the end, though, one must realize that it is precisely from dealing the adversities in her life that Midori gained her worldly wisdom in a healthy dose of cynicism—or rather, a certain ability to take a no-nonsense, no-sugarcoat approach in seeing the world. Yet importantly, one of her most endearing traits is that she did not become permanent embittered or discouraged by her discovery: Here is a girl who could still manage to crack off-color jokes about herself even while just outside the room in which her father laid on his deathbed. (Page 184-185) She recognized her hardships for what they were (in that she did not romanticize it as some sacred endeavor—it was simply something that she had to do rather than pretending to be joyous while doing), but neither did she needlessly dwell on it: “…life has been too cruel to us [Midori and her sister Momo] until now, but that’s OK. We’re gonna get back everything it owes us.” To this, Toru replied: “I’ll bet you are, knowing you.” (Page 250) Such is the quintessential Midori with her philosophy on the cookie box. As herself put it, experience had taught her that.
II. Tsuda
The story of Tsuda Shiori began ominously with the comment that she “can’t get away…[Hoshino] will work her to the bone”. Upon the first look she was the quintessential Japanese schoolgirl with her sailor uniform and holding the super-girly cell phone—yet conducting a conversation entirely unfitting for her tender age. The Tsuda audience sees after her first “job” was both silent and stiff, very much a damaged and reluctant doll who was on the verge of tears. It was in this condition that Hasumi followed her home—always keeping a distance but faithfully trailing behind her, despite later becoming the target of Tsuda’s physical (but in the end hopelessly ineffectual) beating. The sequence of Tsuda stepping on the bills and then running into the river, along with the sequence of the flying kites, ranks amongst the most aesthetically stunning moments in the entire film. In the first sequence the jerky motion shifts of the camera gave appropriate support to the raging anger and self-loath which boiled within Tsuda and dominated the scene. The subtext for Tsuda here, compounded by Hasumi’s verbal and physical unresponsiveness, is of helplessness and fright. The flowing long schoolgirl hair of Tsuda’s in the face shot made a plain contrast with the sheer vehemence and force with which she destroyed the bills beneath her feet. The soft piano music further accentuated the loneliness and isolation of the scene, taking place in a beautiful field road polluted by smoke from afar and the dirty water canal. The background music reaches a climax as Tsuda, having finally spent almost all of her strength in kicking a mute Hasumi and destroying the dirty bills, hurls her book bag onto the ground and runs into the dark canal. Against the splash of haunting soft melody sighing in the background, the slow-motion double-shot of her movement from the beautiful green reeds to the dark muddy water was executed to perfection with both an unbearable sadness and a deep longing. The scene here is eerily reminiscent of the Lady of Shalott, or perhaps an Ophelia finally giving into the madness the world had imposed upon her. In fact, this particular scene might even be taken as symbolic of Tsuda’s fate in the entire movie—a plunge from natural innocence to forced defilement while the rest of the world watches on, as deceptively beautiful as ever in its detachment.
Walking into the gate of her impressive house with her loose socks full of grime, Tsuda tried to clean herself with the garden hose besides a flower rack. The orange-red flowers in bright full bloom amidst all the hopeful green made a sharp visual contrast with the muddied and despondent Tsuda, who knew all too well that this water can only wash away the mud. However, it would be too simple to stop Tsuda’s character development there and paint her as a one-dimensional victim, a flower cut down before it even began to bloom. In what might be termed as a curious mixture of defiance and indulgence, Tsuda came to seemingly “settle” into her role as the part-time call girl. The second time the audience is shown her “after job” reaction, her outward attitude towards to the affair seems to have made a 180 degrees turn. Contrasted with her initial repulsion towards the ill-gotten money, this time Tsuda made off with her customer’s wallet—and happily paraded her spoil in victory to Hasumi. It is difficult to decipher the precise motive or impetus behind this change: is it self-abandonment after believing that all the water in the world cannot restore her innocence, or is a form of resistance supported by a set of (rather twisted, admittedly) adaptation logic? As suggested before, both were probably at work. Tsuda may have been helpless in the face of the cruel condition, but as long as she saw no viable road of escape she was going to choose the best option from her range of limited choices.
As Hasumi pointed out during the lunch, Tsuda did have a window of opportunity to “get out” in pursuing an actual romantic relationship with Sasaki Kentarõ. Much to Hasumi’s puzzlement, however, Tsuda refused—her tainted self was no longer the cheerful schoolgirl that others expected her to be. That exterior was but a commodity she routinely sold to strangers. Hence she saw the impossibility in a real relationship with Sasaki, reasoning that she was not worthy of a normal life or genuine affection because of her own debasement: “I am not good enough for him.” More than that, she longed for Hasumi because she had understood his helplessness and guilt in the face of evil and suffering. “You protect me,” her words to Hasumi sounded almost like a challenge, excruciating in its forced playful lightness. When the shelled Hasumi failed to give any kind of response—an indication in itself—, the disappointment on Tsuda’s face, however fleeting, was impossible to miss. Unable to pull herself out from the swamp by choosing Sasaki and knowing Hasumi’s ultimate attraction lied with Kuno, Tsuda pondered over more improbable not to mention self-destructive measures: “Do you think he’d let me go if I got fat? Or got a Mohawk?” Characteristically, Hasumi could not answer—and the little exchange is cut short by the angry customer storming into the diner.
Then the only way out was to escape from this world altogether. Flying was the very embodiment of that freedom and Tsuda wanted to fly. When she saw those red kits flying through an ethereal arc of rainbow, she came running down the hill in her proper school girl uniform (as opposed to her prostitution attire, the saucy white shirt without the dark jacket). Yet even while flying the kite, there was a man standing behind Tsuda with her posing almost struggling against him in trying to exercise control of the kite. Just as the flying kites have threads that grounded them to earth and caused them to fall, Tsuda could not escape the restraints men placed upon her. Still, “I wanna fly in the sky,” said the captivated girl despite the warnings of danger, yet the dusk has already begun to fall. What follows is the death scene—a near-silent long aerial shot very slowly zeroing in on Tsuda’s lifeless body, her head in a pool of dark blood and her cell phone hanging above her. Against the dark background, her white socks and the colorful attachments to her cell phone stand out as the reminders to what is supposed to be yet distinguished all to soon—youthful innocence and carefreeness.
III. The Cruel Story of Youth
One is compelled to ask what made Midori preserve in face of adversity and going on with her life with all her spunk but made Tsuda choose to take that impossible flight from this world. At first glance the answer is deceptively straightforward—Midori had that inner strength to carry her on while Tsuda did not. Indeed, the parallel between the foil setups of Midori/Naoko and Kuno/Tsuda is almost irresistible. Of Kuno, Tsuda herself said to Hasumi: “It is all right…because Kuno is a strong person.” The subtext here, considering that Tsuda committed suicide shortly after, was that herself was not strong enough to carry on. Is it not an eerie echo of Murakami’s heartbreakingly simple final verdict on the triangular relationship in Norwegian Wood, as uttered by Reiko to Toru? —“You chose Midori. Naoko chose to die.” Kuno found her strength in Debussy and the piano; yet given up on the reticent Hasumi and shocked at the tragic sight of a bald Kuno, the proverbial string inside Tsuda’s head had finally and irrevocably snapped. This was a world apart from the Midori who never missed one single day of school in six years precisely “’cause I hated the place so much, I wasn’t going to let it beat me.” (Page 60) Midori’s resolute defiance simply was not shown anywhere in “All about Lily Chou-Chou” except perhaps partly in Kuno.
A second layer which lies in the answer to the question is the degree of isolation (including both physical and mental) as well as one’s ability to face it. Salon Magazine’s review of “All about Lily Chou-Chou” ended with the keen observation that in the scene following Hasumi seeing Tsuda home for the first time, “on opposite sides of the hedge, they both lurk for a few moments, gazing at the ground, each hoping the other will do or say something. We can see them, from a distance, but they can’t see each other.” Aside from Hasumi, throughout the film Tsuda was never shown with any friendly or sympathetic figure, only predators and oppressors—and even the role of Hasumi is highly ambivalent given his involvement with Hoshino and his reluctance to stand up to him. In contrast, although Midori had proclaimed “I am used to doing everything alone” to Toru with both a kind of pained pride, her bubbly personality decided that she was as social and outgoing as any of them came. (Page 66) She was in a music group and extracurricular activity clubs, often seen surrounded by companions of both genders while in college, and could develop easy rapport even with the other patients and caregivers at the depressing site of hospital. She was the type which Reiko said would be all right in life because they opened their hearts and therefore would heal from their wounds, whatever they may be.
Tsuda’s wounds, however, refused to disappear because she suffered in secret shame and perpetual silence: her violated body literally became “one giant wound” because of “the wound that should have healed … it grows wider, wider”. Unable to help herself, Tsuda also received no help from outside—of course, this was due to her own reluctance in seeking them out, yet the very reason behind that decision is that she did not see how anybody could help her. As such, the fate of the victims in the film a stinging indictment against the adults in the film’s representation of the utter alienation between the two worlds. Indeed, a striking feature of “All about Lily Chou-Chou” is the utter absence of adult authority or even competence. Whereas the maternal figures (from Hoshino’s mother to the female sensei) are portrayed as sympathetic if generally clueless, the father/authority figures are altogether absent. The audience does not see Hoshino and Hasumi’s fathers; and Tsuda’s parents, despite providing her with obvious material comfort, are never shown. Even worse are the elder men Tsuda finds herself involved with, who are predators instead of fatherly protectors. As a result, both main victims (Kuno and Tsuda) apparently never sought help from adults but instead bottomed their sufferings up inside. For children who are isolated in their lonely worlds, the adult world looms ever inaccessible and alien.
It is of the greatest importance, however, that one does not forget that the troubles Midori and Tsuda faced were entirely different in nature. In going on with her duties despite receiving inadequate support, Midori understandably and deservingly recognized the virtue and moral value in her deeds—as much as she complained about it, one also senses that she was indeed proud to having rose up to the occasion. Those who see her up-close (such as the hospital staff and Toru himself) obviously cannot help but admire her for her perseverance. She also was not alone in her trials—her sister Momo shared an equal burden and she had Toru (perhaps also her previous boyfriend, as the guy must had been good for something) to vent out her feelings. In other words, Midori’s struggles were “the good fight” and she did what she knew was right. One might also speculate that her sense of responsibility and connection to her parents and sister did not allow her to quit halfway through.
Tsuda’s forced prostitution, however, is ultimately a story of secret shame and character degradation. Given that both fighting back and “getting out” was impossible, the more she carried on the less hope she saw in the situation. What can one say to a girl who laments “lately whenever I think of men, I think of ‘customer’”? The psychological damage here is of double victimization—not only did Hoshino destroy Tsuda’s trust in herself (for she no longer had control over her own body), but he also destroyed Tsuda’s ability to see the world without the dark lens of sexual violence. Thus whereas Midori could not quite be characterized as a “victim” and Kuno was the indisputable victim, Tsuda’s victimization was much more complex and, to herself at least, much more ambiguous. Hoshino’s scheme had forced Tsuda to take on an active part in her private hell. It was herself who had to make the calls, herself who received a part of the prostitution money as per Hoshino’s instructions, and herself who had to choose what kind of panties to wear before meeting members of the opposite sex—any member of the opposite sex. Hoshino was behind it all like a puppet master, yes, yet he was never shown as directly dealing with Tsuda and at the end of the day it was Tsuda herself who had to live with the repeated nightmares.
In the ending credit parts of “All about Lily Chou-Chou” there is Tsuda, immersed in music with the earphone on and her eyes closed. Was it the same song that she so comfortably fell asleep to on the train with Hasumi by her side? Casually, almost serenely, she fell backwards into the golden field without opening her eyes. There was an elegant disturbance of plants, a human-shaped indent temporarily appearing in the uniform yellow, and just as quickly only a faint shadow from above remains all that there was of Tsuda. Did she feel the same kind of librated abandon and desire for oblivion when she took her first and last flight with the wings that cannot fly? After all, if there was no adult world and all it nominally embodied for the youth to grow and be accepted into when they finally come out from that painful adolescent shell, then is any hope at all at the end of this journey?
Blanche@2003-12-13 08:54
小命很喜欢莉莉周的，偶也是在他那里下到的电影还有《呼吸》。:)
支持一下Harmatia，打个5星吧。这里N久没人给帖子打分了。:o
Harmatia@2003-12-13 09:20
谢谢^^
不过，汗，置顶也还是不用了
毕竟不是一般意义上的原创
而且置顶的帖子本来也就很多了
Blanche@2003-12-13 09:52
引用
最初由 Harmatia 发布
谢谢^^
不过，汗，置顶也还是不用了
毕竟不是一般意义上的原创
而且置顶的帖子本来也就很多了
偶可以把鸟的那帖合并了。:p
可惜一个人打分显示不出来的，看过的大家一起来评分喔～ ^^
霸王哆啦@2003-12-14 01:53
超级巨长，容我慢慢的看，今天是不行了。
毛毛@2003-12-15 04:39
汗 真是锻炼偶的阅读能力啊~
Harmatia@2003-12-15 05:52
引用
最初由 毛毛 发布
汗 真是锻炼偶的阅读能力啊~
……这种东西……很容易让人一头雾水的……
毛毛@2003-12-18 04:50
引用
最初由 Harmatia 发布
……这种东西……很容易让人一头雾水的……
已经。。。。。。。。。冒烟了@_@||||||||||||||||||
偶属于不看电影那类Ｄ 现在当英文阅读文章来读大大的文
可惜这样好像令偶更痛苦的说－＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿－
ＰＳ坚持就是胜利q * o * p
momoko@2003-12-26 01:45
偶也想要ost!!!!
偶最喜歡得導演就是岩井啦！！！
我想問的是~大大念什麽的啊？？？
好羡慕論文可以寫自己喜歡的東西~~~
我就沒有那麽好命了~~~~~
儅偶苦苦思索strategy case study的時候~~~萬分痛苦自己沒有學感興趣的東東！！
jingwen@2003-12-26 08:06
楼主读什么专业? 在哪里读书?
Arael@2003-12-27 08:27
來遲了。。
剛好挪威的森林和莉莉周我都很喜歡的 :)
企鵝拿這兩個作品一起研究也很有意思.
因爲都有那種青春的感覺吧 :)
另外，當時看村上龍的69，也有類似的感覺。。。不過69好像比較樂觀吧。
雖然村上的書也算是很流行了，可一直沒有聼過有改成電影的。 只是兩年前碰巧看到有一張100%女孩的dvd... 不過我自己也沒有看，因爲送人了。。。
sigmond@2003-12-27 21:04
这个All about Lily Chou-Chou 哪里有下的说
jingwen@2003-12-28 08:51
我觉得村上的书看了有点压抑. 记得看《挪威的森林》那本书时还是初二,初三的样子, 现在回想好像都是很遥远的过去...
Harmatia@2004-01-01 09:42
引用
最初由 momoko 发布
偶也想要ost!!!!
偶最喜歡得導演就是岩井啦！！！
我想問的是~大大念什麽的啊？？？
I double major in Government and Asian Studies.
引用
好羡慕論文可以寫自己喜歡的東西~~~
我就沒有那麽好命了~~~~~
儅偶苦苦思索strategy case study的時候~~~萬分痛苦自己沒有學感興趣的東東！！
Heehee, actually I used to be a Finance/Accounting/International Business major, but I really hated it so I transferred.
Harmatia@2004-01-01 09:57
引用
最初由 jingwen 发布
我觉得村上的书看了有点压抑. 记得看《挪威的森林》那本书时还是初二,初三的样子, 现在回想好像都是很遥远的过去...
I like Murakami's novels. They make me think about certain aspects of life. :cool:
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