客途秋恨1990

喜欢的细节：
15岁的晓恩在菜场看到买东西的老人，回忆起和爷爷一起逛菜场的情形。

夏日午后，小女孩趴在爷爷肚子上午休。长大后的晓恩看着中风在床的爷爷，想着：这样苍老的肚子恐怕再也承受不了这个孙女的重量了。——泪奔

母亲在家乡的车站轻声地用日语道：“我回来了。”旋即觉得自语有些失态——那一刻，才不会记得计较自己的生活是否体面。

墙上山口百惠的海报。

现实和回忆在相关情形的引带下交织，揭示故事的全貌。很经典的叙事。

不大理解的：

母亲的变化（从澳门的小媳妇，到香港的麻将师奶，再到后面虚荣的师奶），父亲的态度，其中的矛盾和复杂交待的不够，母亲因为一次归国之旅后的痛哭暂得解脱（让晓恩回去看爷爷奶奶）显得太轻而易举了。

舅舅的中国话突然长进了。

也可以看得出以母女关系为主线想顺带的东西也很多，父辈的对乡土的向往，红小兵对父辈的反咬，香港时事的变化等等，包得太多太紧。

凉风有信，秋月无边。——粤曲《客途秋恨》

 

       很久没有看这么引爆泪点的电影了，虽然是90年的老片子。据说这是许鞍华的半自传电影，我信。里面的感触只有羁旅之人才能表现。
      一气看了两部用这首曲的电影：《胭脂扣》《客途秋恨》。这首小调在《胭脂扣》中被唱得风情万种，在《客途秋恨》里却是一阕凄凉的尾音。葵子多年羁留异国他乡的恨，可以在回乡之后消散吗？片中说，母亲从日本回来以后变得拘谨，甚至一夜之间老了。也许是数十年的回乡梦被现实打得破碎，葵子清楚，她再也回不去了。

      客途中有恨的何止是葵子？晓恩的爷爷奶奶回“祖国”效力，爷爷却被红小兵弄到中风。人在故乡，但他们是否真的回去了？

      在这个时代，很多人都有一个回不去的故乡。魂牵梦萦的是当年，回乡却只是一个炫富叙旧夸耀怀念的符号了。

      梦中的故乡，还是你回去的故乡吗？

      飘在外面的人，秋来如何不遗恨？

      看到晓恩的舅舅说：“你父亲说要和我喝酒，喝到醉，可是他没有来。你代替你的父亲，陪我喝，喝到醉。”瞬间又触到了泪点。请干一杯吧！为了人生中无处不在的错过。

Song of the Exile reveals its veil with an extreme close-up of a bicycle wheel, accompanied by Hueyin’s sentimental narrations. Hueyin, the narrator and one of the protagonists, isa Sino-Japanese (ethnically) studying in London. Aiko, Hueyin’s mother, is a Japanese who has been living in Macau and Hong Kong since the end of the Second World War.Hueyin’s grandparents, in reliance of their illusionary imagination on Mainland China, choose to settle down in Guangzhou in the shadow of Cultural Revolution. Seemingly all the main characters in Song of the Exile are in displacement from motherlands and resettlement in host lands (Yue). This essay will analyze the displacement and its reconstruction of identity in the context of Song of the Exile.

As to Hueyin, a subtle implication on her contradicted ethnicity and nationality arises when she is typing another resume after she receives the rejection letter from BBC. The heading of her resume indicates that she was born in Hong Kong (“Place of Birth: Hong Kong”) but she is a British (“Nationality: British”). The scene not only epitomizes the colonial history of Hong Kong, but also portrays the discrimination Hueyin encounters as an ethnical Chinese. She should have been treated equally as her local friends on application to BBC in terms of nationality. Yet more often she is isolated in the pub and unintentionally alienated when her friend mentioned about using chopsticks, which symbolizes a classical imagination of orientalism. All these subtle fragments pile up, Hueyin gradually realizes that although she lives in London and speaks fluent English, she still belongs elsewhere. She is indeed “an exile in a foreign land” (Erens).

That’s probably why Hueyin erases her resume and instead types a farewell letter to her friends in London. The opening scenes depicting the landscapes and culture heritages of London, especially appealing to most people in Hong Kong at 1990s after the demonstrations on Tiananmen Square. The image of London is somehow embellished in the diffusing suspicion of returning to socialistic China. In terms of Hong Kong, the model of One Country Two Systems “includes Hong Kong as a part of China but excludes it from legal structure” (Yue) and economic coordination. All those British culture and heritages left in Hong Kong cannot be simply replaced like the replacement in nationality derived from the handover, not to mention the reconstruction of recognition of Chinese identity. It seems that Hong Kong itself, like Hueyin, also lives here but belongs elsewhere.

The same displacement occurred to Aiko,Hueyin’smother, who has been living in Macau and Hong Kong for most of her life. She tells her older brother how difficult her life is in a “foreign country” upon reaching her hometown in Japan. As a Japanese living in Macau and Hong Kong after the Sino-Japanese War, Aiko was prejudiced and even despised by Hueyin’s grandparents and neighbors. She speaks Japanese. She is more in favor of Japanese cuisine. She always reminds herself and Hueyin of the reputation and wealth of her family in Japan, which constitutes an explicit contrast to her floundering life in Hong Kong and Macau, trying to adapt to local lifestyle. When returning to Japan, she picks up her mother tongue, her Japanese name and all other Japanese ritual habits, thus reaffirming her identity as Japanese. She seems to be no longer the “otherness” but one of “the same” with similar social practices and collective acknowledgement of identity.

However, the authenticity of favorite food, the familiarity of language and the comfort of coming back home do not last for long. When Aiko deliberately shows off her well-educated daughter studying in London to her relatives in an attempt to create a “glorious return”, her relatives respond in indifference and ethno-centrality. The Japanese food she used to favor feels cold and tasteless. She even complains about the traditional hot baths for their impracticality and inconvenience. Those yeas living in Macau and Hong Kong unselfconsciously alter he cultural identity. “The years of acculturation in Hong Kong have changed her attitude towards the homeland” (Yue). For Aiko, the journey to Japan is supposed to be a resume of her original identity, but it turned out to be a reminder of her new cultural intimacy towards Hong Kong created by her life of displacement.

At the end of Song of the Exile, Hueyin’s grandfather, who is severely beaten by the Red Guards in Cultural Revolution claiming to topplebourgeoisie, mentions about sending the book of Song Poetry to Hueyin in case she forgets the profound traditional Chinese culture. His reference to this particular period of divine Song Dynasty infers “the national sentiments of modernity, exile and reunification” (Yue) in the horrific shadow of Cultural Revolution. The poverty, brutality, and disorder in Guangzhou smash Hueyin’s grandparents’ fantastic illusion on homeland when they are in Macau. The distance from home procures an ideal to restore the original identity. Yet Hueyin’s grandparents have already become the “otherness” when they return. Only marginalization and hostility towards the Kuomintang’s nationalism embrace them.

In Song of the Exile, the elements and implications of displacement and resettlement constantly affirm and reshape the characters’ recognition of their own ethnic and cultural identities. As for Hong Kong, 15 years has passed by since the handover, seemingly it still belongs elsewhere. In a time of globalization, borders and boundaries may be easily blurred out and they are no longer obstacles for commerce and communications. However, frequent communication does not directly lead to mutual understanding between Mainland and Hong Kong. Conflicts may also arise. The recognition and reconstruction of Chines identity are far more difficult than the reconciliation between mother and daughter in Song of the Exile. As for Hong Kong cinema,local contents (food, language, cultural heritage) in Song of the exile seem to be “a nationalistic response to globalization” (Teo). Nonetheless, maintaining and distilling local features in the pressure of globalization“would not have been and still is not easy” (Yue) in 21st century.

昨晚看许鞍华的《客途秋恨》。录像带的画质，模糊，我记错了，认为是80年代初的片子，后来查资料知道是1990年的，难怪，张曼玉已不是花瓶的举止。

一路看来，知道是许鞍华的自传，分外凄凉——什么事情知道是真的，就在道德上倾斜了。当年看《胭脂扣》，片尾如花还给十二少胭脂扣，毅然决绝，我唏嘘不已，两个演员也是魂归天国，谁信一语成谶，把命运当绝句来做，精彩，也短小，亦发没有余地了。

许鞍华在忆旧梦。回忆幼时与祖父母在澳门的生活，似在梦境，老街老巷，黄昏的阳光，黑黢黢的楼梯吱吱呀呀，祖母打牌、买点心给孙女吃，扇子摇摇。母亲永远绷着脸，紧张又倔强。不算新鲜的题目，因为人情温婉，是旧时的经历，有份真诚和理直气壮，会撬起哪根怀旧的神经，由衷的理解。想我小时候在祖父母家，上学前班由二老接送。祖母带着我和堂妹去核桃园市场买菜，会切一方蘸着芝麻的热油饼做点心，水萝卜下来时节就着烧饼在小院子里边吃边看天。那时候祖母是权威，连天冷时能不能去院子玩儿都要她批准。现在我在家时中午送她去打牌，晚上睡觉前要给她按摩腿（老太太关节炎），我又成了她的权威。那日去祖父母的旧居徘徊一阵儿，还是熟悉，马上在里面住也不惊愕。

片中的母亲葵子（陆小芬饰）是日本人，嫁给了中国军官，言语不通，又无容禀，自不受公婆待见，丈夫外地工作，寂寞凄苦。在他乡的人未必皆苦，苦的是要彻底放弃原来的生活，去融入新的，还要被承认和接纳。语言不通是最大的问题。你不知道对方在讲什么，可以沟通，如果对方是一个群体，一个国家，本能就有敌意。我看葵子回到日本，不是舒一口气，而是尴尬。即便踏上故土，看着站牌忘情的用日语说出地名，故土也生疏了。看她马不停蹄会旧友泡温泉，是想找回故乡的感觉。可怜被新生活改造的狠了，磨灭掉身体的记号，日本料理榻榻米可以激活本能，但本能只是本能，比本能更高级的不再为日本元素所左右，是被迫接受的他乡的教化。更难受的是亲情在岁月外的纠缠，她想寻回失落的温暖，可是应该想到她当年留在中国就必须有牺牲它的准备。唯一的安慰是看着旧友老去自己有在英国读书的女儿？不是，眼泪出卖了她，若重新来过，她宁愿选择和那帮旧友一样平庸的生活，做平庸的妇人，不必把自己交给历史的大背景安排，那样太残忍。她不会在日本终老，即使那栋房子不卖，因为她不再适应日本了，所有要留下的理由不成立，泡温泉时对女儿说“日本菜生生冷冷，没味道，还是广东菜好，真想煲汤”，教化成功了。代价太惨重，在哪儿都是羁旅，紧张兮兮小心翼翼。这种教化像缠足，经历了一番苦痛，一世行动不便。

小恩对母亲的叛逆是母亲压抑的爆发在女儿这一代的投射。一个在接受教化的人没有资格去教化自己的女儿——女儿不必经历这份再教化的曲折，比母亲理直气壮的享受生活。母女的心结难打开，旁人无意的对母女说“你可不像你母亲”或“你女儿可不像你”，真的不像？母亲当年能够抛弃家庭随丈夫来中国，这种决然和女儿头也不回的离开家庭寄宿学校何等相似。许多上一代和下一代关于成长的矛盾与心结，不是因为父母和子女不像，是因为太像，不像是指生活时代变迁的表象，但骨子里的优缺点继承的很完美。想起赖声川《红色的天空》里老李和儿子养老院吵架的一场戏，儿子对父亲的指责大吼：“我就是因为太像你！我越来越发现我根本就是你！”一家三口都在垂泪，舞台无声。女儿在日本也是言语不通，一人独自出门，迷了路，摘了有农药的果子充饥被主人喝止追赶，最终在村民的帮助下找到了通晓英语的教师，解了围。女儿的这番遭遇是母亲在中国的缩影。她理解了母亲。当母亲不被小舅父原谅并在初恋情人的酒馆买醉时，母女抱头痛哭，是惨然波折后的相认。
小恩回广州看望中风的祖父。那里还是文革时代。望着年迈的祖父母，熟悉又陌生，看着熟睡的祖父，她想“这样苍老的肚子，恐怕再也承受不了这个孙女的重量吧”。我看到这里像针扎一样，想起一次和哥哥在祖母家中翻出旧时的照片，看见许多祖父的，2003年左右和朋友的照片，已是老态龙钟的样子，强打精神。我对哥哥叹道：“那时候就显老了。”都没说话。祖父2005年逝世。头一次身边亲近的人去世，接受不了。老是做梦。不相信。现在谈到祖父很平常，无伤心之意，偶尔独自一人念及前事，只暗暗神伤而已。片尾晓瑜望向窗外的广州，响起了南音《客途秋恨》，“凉风有信，秋月无边……”

迁徙了很多次的人，哪儿都是羁旅，停不下脚。未被荒疏的记忆成了旧梦，对葵子来说，故乡是旧梦，对小恩说，祖父母的家里是旧梦。旧梦再好，也回不去了，羁旅是宿命。

画质模糊，片尾的字幕统统看不清。看片头字幕知道编剧是吴念真，总顾问是胡金铨。看在日本远山乡村的清幽淡雅，有胡金铨的风格。许鞍华的镜头是急促拥挤。胡金铨也是一生漂泊未曾有家。拍这个故事，可能有感触。