14
六月

《火遮眼》

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THE FURIOUS: A Blazing Return to Pure Action Glory

For a decade, the gold standard of hand‑to‑hand combat cinema has remained Gareth Evans’ The Raid and its staggering sequel. Countless imitators have tried to match their breathless, bone‑crushing intensity — and almost all have failed. Now, along comes Kenji Tanigaki’s directorial debut, The Furious, and it does something remarkable: it doesn’t just salute those masterpieces; it stands shoulder to shoulder with them. This is high‑octane, edge‑of‑your‑seat filmmaking of the purest order. Make no mistake — The Furious is already one of the greatest action films ever made, and easily the year’s best.

Tanigaki is no stranger to choreographic brilliance. As the longtime action collaborator of Donnie Yen (the Ip Man series, Flash Point, Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In), he has spent decades refining a style that blends explosive power with balletic precision. For his first feature as director, he assembles a dream team of Asian action royalty: Xie Miao (the legendary child star of New Legend of Shaolin), Joe Taslim (The Raid), Yayan Ruhian (The Raid), Joey Iwanaga (Enter the Fat Dragon) and Brian Le. Together, they unleash a 114‑minute adrenaline tsunami that traces its lineage directly to Tony Jaa’s Ong‑Bak, the Raid films, and even the golden‑era Hong Kong classics of Jackie Chan, Jet Li, and Donnie Yen — only more explosive, more relentless.

Watching The Furious, one cannot help but feel a profound sense of nostalgia — not for imitation, but for an era when Hong Kong cinema went international and changed the game forever. Those 1980s and 90s masterpieces from Jackie Chan, Jet Li, and Woo-ping Yuen didn’t just entertain; they influenced generations of action filmmakers and fighters around the world, from the Wachowskis to Quentin Tarantino, from MMA champions to YouTube stunt teams. The Furious carries that torch unapologetically. There is no ironic distancing, no shaky-cam apology for the violence. Just pure, honest, world-class choreography staged in full view of the camera. And here is the remarkable truth: this time, it is a hard act for Hollywood to follow. For decades, Western studios have tried to reverse-engineer Hong Kong’s magic — often with mixed results. But The Furious operates at a level of physical literacy and risk-taking that most mainstream Hollywood action films have either forgotten or abandoned. This is the real thing Hollywood simply cannot keep up.

The film’s narrative is lean and visceral. Xie plays Wang Wei, a mute repairman whose young daughter is snatched by a child‑trafficking ring. With no voice but unwavering will, he tears through the corrupt underbelly of a Southeast Asian city, joined by a journalist (Taslim) haunted by his own missing wife. The villain, played with icy depravity by Iwanaga, treats kidnapped children like disposable commodities — a horrifyingly realistic nod to a crisis that plagues the region. The Furious never preaches, but its message is clear: the trafficking of children is a silent epidemic, and the film’s fury is a righteous scream against it.

Yet the story is merely a clothesline for the action. And what action it is by choreographer Kensuke Sonomura . In the climax the film delivers a five‑way combat sequence that will be studied for generations. Confined to a police station, Wang Wei faces four distinct martial artists, each representing a different philosophy of violence. Taslim’s Pencak Silat and Judo is all low, serpentine brutality — sudden sweeps and joint‑locks that flow like poison. Ruhian, also Silat‑trained, fights with wild, unpredictable angles, striking from blind spots. Iwanaga, the film’s Japanese villain, brings a chilling hybrid of Karate (in the style Kenneth Lo Wai Kong of the Jackie Chen stunt team) — crisp, linear strikes. His style is brutally efficient: no wasted motion, just cold, calculated dismantling of his opponents. Brian Le, known for his viral martial arts short films and his breakout role in Everything Everywhere All at Once, unleashes a powerful blend of Taekwondo and Tricking — lightning-fast spinning kicks, acrobatic flips, and fluid, unpredictable footwork. His style is the most visually spectacular of the five: explosive, high-flying, and deceptively lethal. And Xie Miao himself anchors the chaos with a hybrid brawler’s grit — no single style, just pure survival instinct.

The choreography is a conversation of clashing forces — every block, every elbow, every desperate takedown filmed with crystalline clarity. No shaky cam. No quick cuts. Just bodies moving at impossible speed, colliding with sickening impact. It is an instant classic, a scene so electrifying that audiences audibly gasped at my screening.

The Furious makes no claim to intellectual subtlety, nor does it need to. What it delivers instead is something rarer: a concentration of physical power and choreographic rigor that reminds us why we fell in love with action cinema in the first place. Every body becomes a weapon, every fight a dialogue of explosive clashing forces. There are no lazy shortcuts, no CGI crutches — just sweat, bone, and the unrelenting will of performers at the absolute peak of their craft. In an age of weightless spectacle and digital armies, this film is a true spectacle — an action epic earned through sweat, blood, and staggering physical rigor. We are already aching for the sequel or different version of the current one.

Elven Ho

12
六月

隱蹟之書: 重寫自我

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A Name Etched in Erasure: Mary Stephen’s Palimpsest and the Ghosts of Empire

Mary Stephen, Hong Kong-born editor and filmmaker, spent over two decades as Éric Rohmer’s go-to editor, cutting films from The Aviator’s Wife (1981) to his final feature in 2007. She also edited Last Train Home and Ann Hui’s Our Time Will Come. In 2025, she turned the lens inward with Palimpsest: The Story of a Name, winner of the Golden Horse Awards for Best Documentary Feature and Best Film Editing. The title refers to a manuscript scraped clean and rewritten—a metaphor for a family history deliberately erased across generations.

The film asks: why does a Chinese woman, born to Chinese parents in colonial Hong Kong, carry the English surname Stephen? Her father’s 8mm home movies, diaries, and photographs transform the screen into a time machine. We glimpse the family’s rise from labouring-class beginnings against a backdrop where one million Chinese were governed by twenty thousand Europeans. Stephen augments this with archival material from the Hong Kong Film Archive and Michael Rogge, a Dutch banker who documented the 1950s territory. For Hong Kong viewers, these images are haunting: trams gliding through a British-colonial city, family picnics beneath a rising skyline.

Stephen also unearths footage of 1930s Wuhan, a treaty port carved open by foreign powers, soon ravaged by Japanese invasion. Here the surname leads to Virginia Woolf’s nephew, Julian Bell, whose affair with Chinese writer Ling Shuhua is traced through letters and fragments.

The film reveals the white-supremacist hierarchy that forced Stephen’s father to adopt a European surname as a survival strategy. Would Henry Stephen have prospered as Chan Tik-fong? Would Mary Stephen have become Rohmer’s editor under a Chinese name? The answer is no.

The wider context is China’s “hundred years of humiliation” (1840–1949), when foreign powers carved the nation into spheres of influence. Palimpsest shows this at the granular level of one family: the names changed, the identities forged and covered over.

To watch this as a Hong Konger in 2026 is to marvel at the distance travelled. The China of Stephen’s childhood was a land of colonial deference. Today’s China—over 18% of global GDP, a defence budget second only to the US—is a superpower no nation dares to cross lightly. The film is tender, skeptical, and essential. For the young generation of Hong Kong who has no knowledge of our colonial past in Hong Kong and on the mainland, this is a must-see—a vital primer on how deeply that history shaped the very names we carry, and how far we have truly come.

Elven Ho

9
六月

《搞乜鬼奪命雜作》

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Scary Movie: Reliable Formula, Reliable Laughs

The Scary Movie franchise has never pretended to be high art. Its sixth installment, Scary Movie: Requel, understands this perfectly. While critics may clamour for reinvention, the latest entry delivers exactly what audiences expect: a relentless, laugh-a-minute parade of horror spoofs—formulaic, yes, but consistently funny.

To appreciate where this sequel lands, a brief look back is useful. The original Scary Movie (2000) was a paradigm-shifting satire of Scream and teen slashers—lean, mean, and wildly original. Scary Movie 2 (2001) doubled down on gross-out gags and set-piece chaos, earning cult status. Then the Wayans brothers exited. Scary Movie 3 (2003), directed by David Zucker, pivoted to The Ring and Signs, scoring big with its absurdist rhythm. Scary Movie 4 (2006) repeated the formula with diminishing but still serviceable returns. And Scary Movie 5 (2013) bottomed out—desperate, undernourished, and forgettable.

Enter the sixth film. Scary Movie: Requel targets the past decade of horror: Get Out, Hereditary, The Invisible Man, M3GAN, and the Scream requels. The plot—influencers spending a night in the infamous “Blackburn House”—is transparent scaffolding for jokes. And jokes arrive every sixty seconds. A TikTok exorcism, an “elevated horror” monologue interrupted by a pie to the face, a Barbarian Airbnb confusion gag that runs just long enough. None of it is groundbreaking. Much of it is recycled from earlier entries (the bumbling cop returns, cue the “I’ll be right back” groaner). Yet the audience laughs. Frequently. Predictably.

How does it compare to the past five? It is significantly better than the lifeless fifth installment—that’s faint praise but true. It lacks the fresh ferocity of the original or the inspired lunacy of Scary Movie 2. In fact, it most resembles Scary Movie 4: professionally assembled, mechanically paced, and reliably chuckle-worthy. Anna Faris’s cameo feels contractual, but the younger cast commits to the mayhem.

The core criticism—and it is a fair one—is formula. The film plays like a checklist: spoof rising dread, insert pop culture reference (a Saltburn bathtub parody arrives three months too late), reset, repeat. There are no surprises, no risks. But for a franchise now in its third decade, Scary Movie 6 understands its job. It does not aspire to be Airplane!; it aspires to be a comfortable fast-food comedy. On that level, it succeeds.

For fans who have stuck through the lows, this latest offering is a welcome, if unambitious, return to form. Laugh-a-minute? Yes. Memorable? Not particularly. But at this point, reliable laughter may be the truest form of horror comedy survival.

Elven Ho

《揭密日》短評

人類是萬物之惡?

無可否認,人類是萬物之靈,但在同一時間內,人類亦是萬物之惡。導演史提芬史匹堡再次運用豐富的幻想力,帶領我們進入神秘莫測的外星世界。《揭密日》內地球人發現外星人不是甚麼新鮮事,拿他們來做實驗亦在這類電影中司空見慣,但社會上遍及外星人人權保護及捍衛的聲音卻不常見。今趟編劇大衛哥普述說地球人發現外星人後不單沒有好好對待他們,反而欺凌虐待他們,與其說這源於地球人對他們的恐懼和憎恨,不如說這是人類對待「非我族類」的慣常做法。人類本來就是疑心極重的動物,深怕他們的智商過高,能力過大,「反客為主」管治地球,遂肆意壓迫他們,使他們沒有還擊之力,遑論能積聚成強大的反抗力量。因此,影片內他們被視為實驗品,充當人類「發洩」的對象,其實是人類的集體恐慌情緒走向極端而竭力保護自身的一種非常手段。

人類並非友善的生物,每當對其他物種有任何新發現時,都會以研究該物種為名,其實是為了探究他們是否會對人類的生存產生威脅,外星人亦不例外。《揭》內人類虐待外星人的片段被隱藏,更被禁止公開,明顯是為了遮掩人類之惡。人類要與萬物和平共存,經常必須扮演「好好先生」的角色,與地球上其他生物恩慈相待,和善相處,但其實人類經常擔心自己萬物之靈的至高無上的地位被取代。倘若外星人的體能比人類好,智商及情商比人類高,人類比不上他們,他們很容易便會憑著自身的能力取代人類,並成為地球的統治者。很明顯,人類對外星人的驚懼與其對AI的恐慌沒有太大的差異,因為外星人與AI同樣是懂得不斷學習,懂得提升自身能力的「生物」,同樣能成為取代人類的管治者。

由此可見,從《E.T.外星人》內小孩與外星人和平共處的盼望至《揭》內人類欺負外星人的失望,導演在相距多年的影片內反映了自己對人類行為的看法。或許《E.T.》裡的小孩較單純,1982年的國際社會較簡單,他可以天真無邪地與外星人和平共處;相反,《揭》內除了氣象主播 Margaret(艾美莉賓特飾)及網路安全專家 Daniel(佐斯奧康納飾)願意替外星人發聲,向普羅大眾公開他們被欺凌虐待的秘密外,幾乎沒有人會善待他們,以前對小孩的樂觀期盼似乎已「不知所蹤」,對善良人類的殷切盼望彷彿已所餘無幾。但願現實生活中我們都能夠成為有良心的人,以慈愛及真摯的心對待自己身旁的所有生物。

曉龍

《搞乜鬼奪命雜作》短評

混雜的哲理

《搞乜鬼奪命雜作》系列長拍長有,從千禧年至現在,已到了第六集,今趟沿襲舊日的風格,繼續惡搞眾多經典的荷里活電影,這次更大玩特玩在美國流行一時的韓國電影。《搞》內《奪命狂呼》系列的影子固然必不可少,除了恐怖片,近年流行的《人工殺姬》和《獵魔女團》更被惡搞一番,讓《搞》惡搞的對象日趨廣泛,普羅大眾哄堂大笑,撇除恐怖片片迷看得入神的熱烈反應,喜愛其他類型電影的觀眾亦可投入其中。因為《搞》戲謔電影的經典人物和情節,對這些被嘲笑的對象耳熟能詳的觀眾必定可尋回舊日的觀影回憶,並享受不同電影彼此之間交叉混雜所帶來的樂趣。因此,不熟悉美國政治、文化及社會不要緊,只需多看幾齣主流的荷里活電影,便能對《搞》惡搞的影片產生共鳴,因為《搞》的創作人與自己同樣是影迷,同樣會為了尋回個人的光影記憶而著迷。

很有趣,《搞》建基於其他電影而把這些影片的故事內容、角色及對白反轉再反轉,一切可能都在觀眾的意料之內,但我們偏偏期待這些經典情節在銀幕上用另類的方式重現,就是為了滿足自己重新「進入」舊日的光影世界的強烈渴求。多齣電影混雜而成的《搞》,雖然流於公式化的拼貼,每集都用誇張核突的方式醜化經典電影中的主角,當我們看見經典人物有「異樣」時,都會對其極端化的惡搞捧腹大笑。或許惡搞是一種創意,其創作的難度不比憑空想像低,因為創作人需要先熟悉那些經典角色的形象、個性和外貌,才可對其醜化,在電影開拍之前的資料搜集功夫必不可少,其需要完成的「功課量」亦不低。因此,《搞》表面上輕鬆惹笑,荒誕乖謬,遊戲人生,實際上認真研究,資料充足,且指涉的美國政治社會的怪現象應是深思熟慮地創作的成果,例如:那句「三次投票給特朗普」的對白有明顯且深刻的諷刺意味。

很多時候,喜劇都被低估,這很正常,因為喜劇與其他類型電影不同,動作片裡有明顯的精心設計的大場面,文藝片裡有精雕細琢的精緻劇本,唯獨喜劇裡的搞笑鏡頭看似稀鬆平常,但其實需要花大量時間和精力琢磨思考,才可創作前所未見的笑位,絕對不是一蹴而就的馬虎成品。因此,《搞》以混雜的方式滲入「語不驚人誓不休」的搞笑風格,其實需要一定的心思和創意,並非短時間內能輕易完成的鬆散之作。

曉龍

《火遮眼》

遲了十年,拍出來意義何在?

第一件事要提就是推倒《踏血尋梅》整個項目,那宣發部大家姐,改名《火遮眼》已經顯示過時到不得了,撞片名撞到飛起。

第二件事,比國際社會遲了十年,日式武指《RE:BORN》拍於2016年。《火》老闆說的《捍衛任務》,在2014年上映,他要怎樣怎樣的同時,印尼電影《迎頭重擊》也是十年前(2016年)的作品。

先不說《九龍城寨之圍城》的抄襲問題,文創處都有記錄。由一位來自日本的動作指導谷垣健治執導,先看前年的《辣妹刺客:奪命雙煞》,是現今日式頂流。阿叔要拍國際性動作片,《火》十年前是火!十年後,倒不如投資《捍衛任務七》,阿伯後知後覺。

Kepa

《蠱降》短評

神秘國度的面紗

馬來西亞的恐怖片在香港上映的機會不多,倘若《蠱降》不是馬來西亞史上票房最高的恐怖片,假如此片不是由姜皓文主演,我們根本不會有機會看此片。雖然香港人經常到東南亞國家旅遊,但只限於到當地著名的景點遊覽,對其歷史文化一無所知。《蠱》以下降頭為主題,開闊了我們的視野,讓我們得悉降頭的歷史源流及其發展的來龍去脈,並替我們揭開了此國家所屬的神秘國度的「面紗」。《蠱》不乏活生生的人被殺的血腥畫面,亦包括愛美的年輕女子爛臉的核突鏡頭,但其神秘感只在於降頭師(姜皓文飾)如何下降頭的情節,以及他這樣做以對犯罪者作出懲罰的特殊原因。筆者難以說《蠱》夠奇夠怪,因為上述畫面、鏡頭及情節的激烈程度十分有限,導演可能擔心太刺激的畫面會嚇怕膽子較小的觀眾,唯有刻意遷就他們。但其實大部分觀眾覺得那些嘔心恐怖的鏡頭皆拍得未夠「火候」。

看《蠱降》時,筆者不自覺想起桂治洪分別在1980及1981年執導的《邪》、《屍妖》、《蠱》等片,認為《蠱降》有一些向前輩致敬的地方。降頭師下降頭的畫面似曾相識,受害者「不著邊際」的幻覺及慘痛的死狀亦源自上述的舊片,當然,電影已有超過一百年的歷史,要完全創新,並不容易。但《蠱降》走不出舊式同類電影的框框,只把熟悉的鏡頭重拍,難免予觀眾「舊酒新瓶」之感。故此片欠缺了新鮮感,讓部分常看舊式華語恐怖片的觀眾感到納悶,實屬正常。創作人其實應把上述提及的血腥畫面及核突鏡頭推向極致,並運用天馬行空的想像力,讓觀眾耳目一新,並欽佩他們的創造力。只有這樣,此片才會成為華語電影史上出色的恐怖片,多年前的日本電影《午夜凶鈴》系列便是其中一例。

即使姜皓文的演技出眾,演活了降頭師,其神情動態及身體語言皆別具神秘感,容易令觀眾毛骨悚然,仍然難以補救恐怖鏡頭不夠恐怖的弊病。或許他落力的演出已為全片挽回不少分數,但在他不曾出現的鏡頭內,眾多年輕演員著跡的演出,卻抹掉了之前建立的神秘氣氛,讓全片流於平凡,他付出的努力和汗水亦於事無補。由此可見,此片未能在香港大受歡迎,其實與他沒有太大的關係,因為他已盡力而為。

曉龍

26
五月

《星球大戰: 萬達洛人與古古》

   Posted by: admin   in 香港影評人協會

Star Wars: Mandalorian and Grogu – Squeezing the Last Juice for Diehards

Since George Lucas first launched a rebellion against a galactic empire in 1977, the Star Wars saga has weathered decades of creative turbulence: the triumphant Original Trilogy, the politically dense Prequels, the divisive Sequels, and a string of standalone films that left fans polarized. By the late 2010s, franchise fatigue had set in. Then came The Mandalorian (2019)—a lean, neo-Western that stripped away Jedi prophecies and Skywalker melodrama to focus on a lone gunman and a mysterious child. It was a reset that worked, earning Emmys and restoring faith. But by 2026, with the theatrical film Star Wars: Mandalorian and Grogu now released and Season Three of the series already in the rearview, the question is no longer whether the franchise has magic left, but whether the remaining juice is worth the squeeze for the diehards who have bled for this galaxy far, far away.

The Pros: A Technological and Performative Masterclass

On pure craft, the Mandoverse remains a marvel. Industrial Light & Magic’s StageCraft technology—using massive LED volumes to project photorealistic environments—has revolutionized visual storytelling, making alien worlds feel tangible. When Mandalorian and Grogu reaches for spectacle, whether dogfights above Mandalore or the climactic clash with Moff Gideon’s forces, it delivers movie-level action that rewards even the most fatigued viewer. Underneath the beskar armor, Pedro Pascal’s laconic voice work remains pitch-perfect, and Ludwig Göransson’s iconic score still knows exactly how to land an emotional beat. Above all, Grogu—merchandise gold, yes, but a genuinely affecting emotional anchor—retains his grip on our hearts. The bond between the foundlings remains the franchise’s most reliable lever, and when the film leans into that quiet intimacy, it soars.

The Cons: Identity Crisis and the Burden of Continuity

But craft alone cannot mask a story that lost its way. Following the acclaimed first two seasons, Season Three suffered a dramatic audience backlash on Rotten Tomatos. The chief complaint was clear: Din Djarin and Grogu became side characters in their own show, sidelined for Bo-Katan Kryze and sprawling Mandalorian politics. The film, Mandalorian and Grogu, inherits this baggage. It has abandoned the space-Western episodic charm for lore-heavy world-building that feels less like storytelling and more like homework.

Squeezing the Last Juice: For the Diehards

For the hardcore fan, the Mandoverse has become a completionist’s burden. The narrative baggage accumulated across The Book of Boba Fett, Ahsoka, and Season Three means that even the film’s defenders admit it plays like “an extended TV episode with double the budget” rather than an essential cinematic event. The series has grown boggy, too reliant on knowledge from animated shows like The Clone Wars and Star Wars Rebels, and more concerned with setting up Dave Filoni’s eventual crossover movie than with serving the characters who made it great.

Yet diehards will watch anyway. They will show up for the deep-cut references, the mythosaur teases, and the faint hope that the film might finally fix what Season Three broke. That is the definition of squeezing the remaining juice: not because it tastes fresh, but because loyalty demands we drain the glass dry. For the true believer, “This is the way” has become less a creed than an addiction. But for now, with Star Wars at a creative crossroads, that addiction is all we have left. And for the faithful, it remains enough.

Elven Ho

26
五月

《乘嚇》

   Posted by: admin   in 香港影評人協會

Passenger Review: A Breakdown on the Highway to Nowhere

André Øvredal’s Passenger promises a fresh spin on the road-trip-gone-wrong subgenre. What it delivers instead is ninety minutes of mindless horror clichés that stall long before the final credits. The setup is serviceable: a bickering couple, Tyler and Maddie, pick up a supernatural hitchhiker after a highway accident. But logic, like their brake lights, quickly goes dark.

Let’s start with the implausibility that sinks the entire journey. These are modern American road travellers, yet the glove compartment contains exactly zero defensive tools. No pepper spray, no pocketknife, not a single firearm – this in a country where van-lifers routinely pack heat for wildlife and worse. The film’s central tension relies on our protagonists being utterly helpless, but that helplessness feels manufactured, not earned.

Then there’s the question of basic common sense. Our villain – a demonic clawed presence – attacks repeatedly, yet our heroes never think to call 911 until the third act. Even then, the call drops conveniently. No dashcam footage uploaded to social media. No GPS tracker shared with friends. No text to a state trooper. The script actively sabotages any smart use of mobile technology, trapping the couple in a pre-smartphone era that makes zero sense for a film set today. Police are mentioned but never appear – not a single patrol car on endless, empty highways. It’s lazy writing dressed as atmosphere.

The worst offence, however, is the ending. After a decently tense middle stretch, Passenger rushes to a bafflingly lame conclusion. Without spoiling: the resolution involves a sudden, unmotivated sacrifice that feels ripped from a first-draft screenplay. The entity is defeated not through cleverness or courage, but through a tired CGI blur. Credits roll before you can blink, leaving more plot holes than pavement. Avoid this ride.

Elven Ho

《流浪犬小飯》短評

需要一個家

一隻流浪犬最需要的是甚麼?一碗飯?一件玩具?還是一個家?《流浪犬小飯》內小飯流落街頭,孤苦無依,如有主人收留牠,牠當然滿心歡喜,因為牠終於找到一個家,有了倚靠,亦獲得前所未有的家庭溫暖。一位快退休的日本工程師收留了牠,視牠如親子,一起睡覺,一起洗澡,讓牠找到獲陪伴的感覺。或許牠的要求十分簡單,有人願意照顧牠,牠已心滿意足,「簡單就是快樂」是牠的狗生宗旨,這亦是牠繼續活下去的動力。後來那位工程師離世,牠仍然陪伴在側,或許這是牠最大的幸運,因為與主人在一起的時光,是牠最愉悅、最滿足的日子,這亦是牠自覺此生無憾的原因。

其後小飯被迫進入了狗隻收容所,度過了艱苦的歲月,孤單地被困在狹小的籠內,活動空間狹窄,獨立囚禁,彷彿住在監獄內,與其他狗隻有一段距離,這是牠狗生中最艱苦的歲月。幸好有一位年輕的緬甸女傭在收容所工作,愛動物,亦愛牠,拯救了牠,但她要找工作,不可能長期飼養牠,唯有放棄牠,讓牠再次流浪。牠飄泊的命運,使牠欲再次尋找主人,畢竟流浪的感覺不好受,牠在陰差陽錯下,又在街頭遇上另一主人,他是一位藝術系學生。他為了追求女同學,本來不喜歡牠,但其後愛上牠,並在牠晚年時與牠培養了深厚的感情。由此可見,牠非常幸運,在生命中遇上三位好人,他們願意愛護牠照顧牠,與其他餓死街頭的流浪犬比較,牠獲得了滿滿的愛,是牠狗生中難以擁有的良好際遇。

作為流浪犬,小飯傳奇的狗生確實值得愛狗的觀眾細味。或許現實中的流浪犬不及小飯幸運,終其一生都找不到主人,遑論會獲得他們的愛和關顧。很明顯,牠的遭遇是樂觀主義者的盼望,他們寄望牠能享受獲得主人關顧的喜樂,以及得到一個「遮風擋雨」的家所帶來的安全感。其實狗與人類相似,同樣有被愛被關顧的情感需要,亦同樣有被憐惜受重視的心理需求。因此,這部電影對遺棄動物人士作出強烈的呼籲:動物擁有寶貴的生命,捨棄了牠們,使牠們失去了愛和關顧,這是不負責任的行為,亦是欠缺同理心的表現。

曉龍

《屍殺禁區》

無名火起三千丈

首先,今次評論的是一部韓國電影,《屍》能在香港上映不必對號入座,能去到康城影展,也許如筆者一樣感受到那股無名火起三千丈!韓式喪屍已經玩到世界盡頭,這部《屍》能玩什麼、更上一層樓?

要小劇透《屍》才能評,科學家二代老爸被舉報,因而要放毒報仇,要毒害全國人民,什麼社會會這樣?那《屍》喪屍系列今次玩什麼?在玩共同意識、共同資訊、共享舉報,因一隻一號馬騮首先傳病毒感染其他馬騮,其他馬騮因而聽命於一號馬騮!整個病毒感染群會同步更新、同步攻擊正常人。無名火起三千丈,等等《屍》是在拍什麼?那是一個非常可怕可惡的病毒!筆者莫名感到無名火起三千丈。

《屍》的解決方法很簡單,電影中先解決一號馬騮,再解決一號人類,但不太成功,因為一號感染者背後有另一位一號!電影末段一號馬騮當然必死,問題便可立即解決!

Kepa

《星球大戰:曼達洛人與古古》Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu

重要的玩偶傳統

筆者並沒有看過串流平台上「曼達洛人」劇集,所以沒有任何包袱進戲院。雖然我不是星戰狂迷,但打從1977年第一齣《星球大戰》已進戲院觀看,接著每齣在戲院放映的「星戰片」均沒有錯過,所以我的印象是:《星球大戰》是屬於戲院的。本片原來已是睽違七年重登大銀幕的「星戰片」。當然今天定必要看IMAX版本。

首先,筆者並不認識曼達洛人,但在他身邊的「古古」又像很熟悉…,最初還以為是小時候的「尤達大師」,原來不是,這並非任何前傳,就當另一故事去看吧。全片純歷險,幾乎全部都是「超人打怪獸」;怪獸層出不窮,厲害非常,「鬥獸場」一幕緊張刺激,往後的怪獸更是「一山還有一山高」。不論埋身肉搏或機甲戰鬥均目不暇給,愛官能刺激的觀眾不會失望。

筆者愛懷舊,在眾多眼花繚亂的CG特技中,惟獨對古古的舉動相當好奇。記得當年的「尤達大師」是由《芝麻街》布公仔的布偶大師Frank Oz飾演(操控),生動靈活,逼真入戲。今天AI、CG特技滿天飛,但見古古卻動作生硬,表情單一,完全不像CG製作,就像一個塑膠公仔似的…;果然,原來古古是一個機械玩偶,利用高科技操控,是實物演出並非綠幕製作。除了重現裝甲走獸AT-AT外,布偶尤達大師的確是我等祖輩星戰觀眾的一個情意結;偶人古古絕對既致敬又懷舊,傳承著星戰土炮的傳統味道。

陸凌綠

《星球大戰:曼達洛人與古古》短評

師徒情深

不熟悉《星球大戰》電影及電視系列的觀眾無需擔心,看《星球大戰:曼達洛人與古古》時,可視它為一個全新的故事,沉浸在緊張刺激的動作場面中,沉醉於多個高速轉換的視聽特效鏡頭內,僅觀賞IMAX大銀幕的畫面,已覺其賞心悅目,加上其震耳欲聾的聲效,更覺其別具震撼力。特別是影片內男主角曼達洛人(貝哲羅柏斯卡飾)肩負殲滅帝國殘餘黑暗勢力的任務,與敵人大打出手,屬於未來世界的戰爭廝殺場面宏大創新,讓我們拾回從前看《星球大戰》電影系列的感覺,《曼達洛人與古古》雖然是一部新作品,但它與舊日《星》的聯繫,容易讓我們尋回看《星》的集體回憶。因此,這部新作顧及非《星》迷,在滿足普羅大眾的商業口味的大前提下,在說故事之餘,其「五分鐘一小打,十分鐘一大打」的刻意設計,算是滿足了主流觀眾對大型動作電影的適切期望。

說回《曼》的故事本身,其情節十分簡單,全是正義與邪惡的對決,光明與黑暗的對壘,遵循《星》的傳統橋段。即使如此,曼達洛人與古古的師徒之情仍然感人至深,雖然男性觀眾鍾愛緊張刺激的畫面,但女性觀眾同樣覺得他倆之間的關係觸動人心。例如:古古跟隨曼達洛人多年,但古古不懂駕駛,在曼達洛人的指導下,牠亂按鍵亂發子彈,他不單沒有怪責牠,反而包容牠,覺得牠有原力,依舊能在其他方面幫助自己。即使他與牠不能用言語溝通,但合作無間,在他垂危時,牠拯救了他。因此,他懂得欣賞牠的優點,亦願意接納牠的缺點,他對牠的愛,牠對他的情,觸動了較感性的觀眾的心靈深處。故《曼》不單滿足了較理性的男性觀眾,亦滿足了較感性的女性觀眾。

由此可見,《曼》作為主流的荷里活電影,充滿了明顯的商業計算,讓不同個性相異喜好的觀眾「各取所需」,這就是《星》電影系列的成功之處,讓普羅大眾既獲得娛樂,又感到窩心。或許我們與《曼》內曼達洛人相似,不能與合作伙伴有效地溝通,卻「心有靈犀」,無需多說,但已有合作的默契,這就是最佳的師徒關係,亦是最真摯的友情包含的信任和忍耐的心理體現。

曉龍

《加沙女孩的聲音》短評

聲音所帶來的驚慄感

本來電影最吸引觀眾的地方應在於其畫面,但《加沙女孩的聲音》的導演卡茴華班哈尼亞偏偏以聲音代替畫面,在約一個半小時內,以聲音呈現六歲女孩欣德一家受戰火蹂躪的慘況,在她身旁全是已去世的家人,她是當地戰火現場為數不多的生還者,由紅新月會的職員不斷與她通電,向她多說鼓勵的言語,以加強她生存的意欲,並改善她在災難中的心理質素。畢竟人非草木,她悲傷的哭號實在令觀眾不安無奈,因為我們單憑幻想,已能想像她正在面對甚麼樣的困境,她的年紀尚輕,卻須面對迫不得已的生離死別。連成人都不能接受的殘酷事實,她欠缺足夠的人生經驗,又怎能在此困境中保持冷靜,維持良好的精神狀態?

影片內經常看見的畫面,就是拯救女孩過程的激烈爭辯。事實上,從紅新月會會址至欣德被困車內的位置,車程只需八分鐘,但紅新月會的職員必須確保救護車依循安全的路線行駛,畢竟救護人員的安全都是這群職員重要的考慮。但另一職員卻認為欣德的生命危在旦夕,拯救她是救護人員刻不容緩的任務,如需經過重重的程序才能開動救護車,救她的時機已過,她在以巴戰爭中喪生的機會亦甚高。究竟她還是救護人員的安全較重要?這真的是一條兩難的問題,要麼救護人員可能犧牲自己而讓她繼續生存,要麼救護人員不去拯救她而讓自己將來得以幫助更多有需要的受害者。在千鈞一髮之際,紅新月會的職員彼此之間在救人的問題上有激烈的爭辯,從人情及道德的角度看,這實屬情有可原。

無可否認,《加》正在考驗觀眾的耐性,在我們已被主流荷里活電影聲色犬馬的內容及多姿多采的視聽效果「寵壞」了的今天,倘若我們仍然有耐性觀賞這部只以聲音為主軸而精美畫面欠奉的電影,實在十分難得。因為我們仍然是有情有愛的人類,聲音所帶來的驚慄感會使我們害怕,我們單憑電話內欣德的聲音便能想像她正在面對的困境,如果把觀賞此片的體驗與過往觀賞戰爭電影時生靈塗炭的畫面連繫在一起,我們便會發覺:戰爭不需要由電影創作者繪形繪聲地呈現,觀眾依靠自己的視聽回憶,其實已可以透過聲音深深地感受戰爭的可怕,並透徹地體會戰爭帶來的驚嚇性和恐怖感。

曉龍

《給阿嬤的情書》

北上消費看電影的首選

北上消費,有空看一下《給阿嬤的情書》,極少數用潮州話拍的電影,而且能拍出華人在海外謀生為家人之苦,說白了如果自己國家豐衣足食,用得上出外謀生嗎?離鄉背井對於港人感同身受。

絕對值得推介的的一部電影,筆者曾經在某商會工作,蒐集13位僑領的資料,確實有以僑批致富之人,僑批家書作為《給》的主題,確是捉到痛點。旅居泰國多年,了解到泰國華僑大多數為潮州人,筆者在泰國的最好朋友已經是第四代華僑,當年在南洋只要努力便能賺到錢,加上中國人的頭腦,在片中也有展示,值得一提是潮州人家庭文化,重男輕女、大男人性格,但潮州女生都很會做生意、很顧家庭,曾經有說法,東芫沒有來自潮州的社會女性,這一說,潮州女性主義電影,是一個很好的主題。題外話,為什麼居於香港的泰國人都聚居於九龍城小泰國內?有一個說法就是潮州人扎根於此,比較親近因而聚居在一起。

泰國在地電影拍攝的補助金高達30%現金回饋,對比在西雙版納拍攝的假泰國,在泰國能找到真實的華僑實景確是無限,而且保育十分好,正如筆者第四代的華僑朋友,完全保留着中華民族的傳統美德及文化。有趣的是,在《給》的開章,為什麼外孫老遠跑到泰國找外公?這是不劇透但非常地道的中國文化。影片的導演真的看清看楚如何說好一個關於僑胞的故事。

Kepa

《寂靜的朋友》短評

治癒心靈的旅程

在現今的世界裡,大部分人都住在大城市內,只有少數仍然與大自然有「親密」的接觸,這驅使我們在閒暇時間內喜歡到郊區遊玩。《寂靜的朋友》提醒我們:除了動物,植物都可以成為我們的好朋友。影片以三段不同時空的故事的交替發展,讓我們了解人與自然千絲萬縷的關係,包括1908年、1972年和2020年,雖然三段故事的主人翁接觸植物的動機不同,但他們有一個共通點,就是讓其治癒自己的心靈,透過自己與大自然的交往,找到久違了的慰藉,並感受難能可貴的寂靜。

2020年,黃志雄博士(梁朝偉飾)身為人類腦神經科學家,因疫情而被困在德國的一間大學內,在此環境下,他無法繼續工作,只好改而與植物交往。朝偉以靜態含蓄的演技,側寫人類與大自然的關係,透過觀察、欣賞和交通,他從一個研究植物的門外漢變為初階的專家,這就是他身為學者的長處。當他熟悉某專科的研究方法後,可靈活地把此方法應用在其他範疇內,從而獲得不一樣的成果。最初他研究銀杏樹時很大可能基於個人興趣,研究久了,便會發覺牠可以治癒自己的心靈,在研究的過程中,獲得前所未有的平靜,或許這就是他轉科做研究時的意外收穫。

1908年,年輕的格蕾特(露娜·維德勒飾)是德國的女權主義者,誓要成為當時大學的第一位女學生,她粉碎性別歧視,運用自己學術研究的天賦,告訴整個社會:男性做得到的事,女性都可以做到。她在當時保守的社會內受盡折磨,曾被指控其行為不檢點,甚至被趕出其原本租住的寄宿家庭居所,在情緒低落、徬徨無助之際,她在自己與大自然接觸的過程中,竟發覺植物除了是自己的研究對象外,亦是安慰心靈的良藥。她透過百年銀杏樹找到平安,獲得慰藉。或許植物除了有生命外,與她靜態的交往,已可以治癒她被壓抑後忐忑不安的心靈,從而讓她在休息過後再次擁有重新出發的動力。

1972年,年青學生漢尼斯(恩佐·布魯姆飾)本來對植物不感興趣,因為他從小就在農地上工作,覺得辛苦煩厭,但為了追求室友貢杜拉(瑪琳·鮑羅飾),唯有答應她,在她出外參加學院旅行時,幫忙延續她研究紫色天竺葵的工作,他本來只視此研究為例行公事,想不到他竟在研究的過程中與此植物有深入的交往。他個性孤僻,沒有太多朋友,在她出外之後,居所內只剩下他一個人,他唯有與植物溝通,殊不知他透過牠獲得心靈的慰藉,讓自己得到平安與喜樂。或許他與黃志雄博士及格蕾特相似,讓植物治癒了自己孤單無奈的心靈,並撫平他過往勞碌工作所帶來的創傷。很明顯,「無心插柳柳成蔭」就是他與植物交通後意料之外的收穫的最貼切描述。

曉龍

《寂靜的朋友》

朝偉獨腳戲能支撐百年樹的獨白嗎?

如果沒有梁朝偉主演,百分之百不會看到這電影。首先《寂》並非給一般觀眾看,正是非正常套路便成為此片的藝術性,”性”也許是此片的隱喻,女性主義、性台詞、植物性交《寂》都有,朝偉裸體是有需要的,生不帶來死不帶走、人與自然之間。

筆者第一時間想起老師許鞍華導演的評語「鏡頭唔好睇」,二十幾年過去,做了電影人後終於想起這句話的意思,長話不能多說,可看看上田尊彥的《A Garden of Camellias (椿の庭)》,高下立見。

電影用一棵百年的銀杏樹看三代人生,樹係阿爺看人作為孫子短短的歲月、再看朝偉因疫情被困德國;有意思的是電影描述二十世紀初的一段(1908年),用詞及世界觀都比現代開放,觀察自行評量;不知為何此片總讓筆者想起讀藝術碩士的所學之術,《寂》内二十世紀初一段黑白鏡頭,若能參考如《Eugene Smith’s ‘Walk to Paradise Garden’》的照片手法便是一絕,可惜《寂》的鏡頭真心難看。

筆者讀電影時數位大師都講,電影裡每一個鏡頭都是有意義的,觀眾可以數一下《寂》内沒有意義的鏡頭,若減掉,肯定能變回片場90分鐘的正常電影。

來都來、拍都拍,銀杏樹秋天會變黃,美絕,北上神州看看,正想說的時候,導演真的拍了,用於德國銀杏樹與法國銀杏樹性交之後,樹變黃了用作結尾鏡頭。最後解讀,電影三段時間(1908,1972及2020年)分別是第一次世界大戰前、越戰及”新冠”疫情(武漢)。因此,用梁朝偉(中國香港)是有需要的。

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《王命之徒》短評

朝廷鬥爭的犧牲品

一位優質的君主要對百姓有仁心,所謂「先天下之憂而憂」,是否為百姓著想,這是普羅大眾最關注的品格條件。可惜《王命之徒》內朝鮮王朝第六代君王端宗(朴志訓飾)空有治國為民的熱情,卻遇上野心勃勃的首陽大君,被迫退位,並被流放至寧越清泠浦,壯志未酬,沒有機會繼續治國,且不幸地成為朝廷鬥爭的犧牲品。或許具有仁心的君主必須同時擁有權謀,才可在朝廷鬥爭中獲勝,否則,他很容易被迫害,亦很容易被「剷除」。

影片內的端宗只有十七歲,卻曾經自殺,或許他自覺走投無路,與其被首陽大君「斬草除根」,不如自行了斷,這樣較為痛快。嚴興道(柳海真飾)身為清冷浦村長,看著他自殺,當然立即阻止,自覺生命比其他一切更重要,拯救他的性命成為自己的當務之急,這亦是村長「愛人」的具體實踐。他與村長的年齡雖然有一大段「距離」,彼此其後卻成為後世歌頌的莫逆之交,從「惺惺相惜」的情誼來看,他們穩固的友情確實有一定的依據。由此可見,倘若在端宗的人生中村長未曾出現,他必定在自己的生命中留下遺憾,並在年青階段鬱鬱而終。

因此,影片最可取的地方,就是其深刻地探討跨代之間單純的友情。或許不是每一位觀眾都曾擁有像片中端宗與嚴興道之間深厚的友誼,但我們都曾經與身旁的人建立友情,即使他/她已是我們的伴侶,彼此之間的愛情都從友情開始,除了單純的友誼,友情亦是愛情的基石。影片故事雖然在超過五百年前發生,但我們仍然不難了解此故事的具體內容,因為友情能跨越時代的界限,不論我們在甚麼時代成長,一段真摯的友誼都能觸動人心。或許情是最不受時間限制的電影元素,人與人之間彼此互動所建立的情,即使年代久遠,其文化及社會環境已經千差萬別,但埋藏在心底裡的情卻始終未變。

在影片的末段,嚴興道被迫滿足了端宗生命中最後的願望,前者成全後者「慷慨赴義」的心志,讓後者在人生的最終階段保住了皇帝應有的尊嚴,這是他尊貴身分的最終體現,亦是他結束生命最光榮的做法。如果他喝了敵人給予的毒湯而斃命,間接地承認自己是犯人,對他皇帝的身分來說,這是一種莫大的恥辱,相對他自願地讓自己的生命在嚴興道手上終結,這確實保住了自己的尊嚴,亦不曾丟棄他尊貴的身分和地位。影片情節改編自韓國古代可歌可泣的歷史故事,不論從人性/人情/道德的角度看,皆發人深省,亦讓觀眾感嘆黑暗的古代政治使無辜的人被犧牲,古代不擇手段的權謀亦令重仁重義的人被「消失」。

曉龍
《寒戰1994》
IP效應早不存在,仲拍爛片?
院線老闆想拍什麼就什麼,炒碟臭菜叫人埋單,自家院線鋪天蓋地收割韮菜,《寒戰1994》散修修拍什麼?從第一集亂叫囂叫做戲,到這部年代接不上的垃圾,老人電影是否走到盡頭?正如院線老闆老爸辛苦建立的王國,在《寒》内你想收割誰?
《寒》之爛,不用多說,網上早有定案;也許筆者可說一下《踏血尋梅》,那老闆一早看中而投資了,前期製作已經進行,到那公司的宣發部主管,說片名太文雅,應該改為《私鐘妹碎屍案》之類,《踏血尋梅》導演點會同意,那富貴老闆因而撒資,《踏血尋梅》經過四年時間,遇到有心人李國興先生再投資,之後《踏》拿了香港電影金像獎7個獎,當初那富貴老闆會後悔嗎?
《寒戰1994》就是老式香港電影的盡頭,消耗的是觀眾再進電影院的信心,香港電影之爛,實在要多謝這些老頭拍的爛片。
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