疗养院

百讲这次为我们带来了波兰导演、新现实主义大师沃伊⻬希·哈斯改编自布鲁诺·舒尔茨短片 小说的电影。两小时的电影中，哈斯在支离破碎的沙漏时间里，编制构建起了一场主人公约瑟夫的 梦。从哥特式支离破碎的列⻋上下⻋，到墓碑前的凝视，我们跟着约瑟夫一起，在瑰丽的色彩和华 丽的转场中，感受到了导演在时间纽结的载体下，对于战争、宗教、政治、命运等多个议题的讨 论。任何试图用情节分析去诠释这章华彩的时间咏叹调的尝试都会是徒劳，笔者在这里就电影中几 处视听感官上触动人心之处进行探讨，尝试写下自己的拙⻅和感触。

影片的开头和结尾很有意思，以一个窗外景物的固定镜头开始，变焦到环视整个阴暗的哥特 列⻋，影片的现实冷色调在此埋下了基础;结尾是一个下摇镜头，导演让我们把目光从疗养院下降 到墓碑里，和开头如出一辙的色彩象征着衰败和死亡。整个电影在男主到达疗养院进入房间之后， 直到一片白光梦醒时分，主要部分都在瑰丽的想象世界中进行，色彩的转移也让我们很好地察觉电 影情绪的转移变化。

约瑟夫的梦，他摆弄时间的沙漏，我们是在一个个华丽的转场中感受到的。哈斯很巧妙的借 用一些空间上分割表意的媒介，来呈现情节时间情景场所的变化。导演三次让男主⻆从床铺餐桌底 下爬出，每次爬出就回到了一个时间上全新，空间上熟知的场所。第一次是从故事开始时间点范畴 的家乡小镇，在情妇阿黛拉的家里出逃到繁荣的集市碰⻅父亲，从而引出电影梦境段落中最绚烂荒 诞的场景;第二次是在比安卡的床下面再一次逃离到家中，再一次对父亲的寻找，引出小镇上对于 宗教的讨论;最后一次是从小镇的圣餐桌子下面回到疗养院，目睹蜡像复活的圣迹。每次利用狭窄 空间的转场都象征着约瑟夫对于破碎的沙漏时间的全新认知。另一个令人拍案叫绝的转场方式是利 用水平上的视⻆移动来切换空间。男主第一次就是在破窗缝隙之间窥视，看到女护士带领新的家属 来到疗养院进而镜头平推来到男主的梦境，再次摘开遮挡已经是母亲的家中。之后的电影梦境文本 中也多次出现平移视⻆带来空间转场的效果，每一次都是导演给观众心理上对于情节跳切的暗示和 准备，约瑟夫既是自己时空梦境幻想的主体也是平行镜面的观测者，他在摆弄时间的同时也逃不过 时间纽结的作用。

影片最出彩之处自然是关于时间和空间的探讨，不论是视觉直观的呈现方式还是借由男主人 公台词留下的哲学思考都令人印象深刻。视觉上哈斯多用⻓镜头，不同时空维度的景别设置色彩分 明，让观众随着约瑟夫一起梦境遨游，感受时空交替。电影从引路的列⻋员作为开始，男主来到父 亲的疗养院寻找自我，最后梦醒，约瑟夫从床上起身，被医生和护士穿戴上吊灯，继承了列⻋员和

父亲的双重身份。最后对于墓地的收场镜头和男主与医生的争辩，也是很明显的对于沙漏时空下约 瑟夫走向死亡的情节暗示。医生一开始暗示父亲已经死亡，但疗养院想办法冻结时间;在梦境中约 瑟夫和大象⻢戏团关于伟大的讨论;最后对于“可以摆弄空间却没法操纵时间”的疾呼。都让观众很 容易与约瑟夫感同身受，在视觉奇观中敬畏感受时间，同时也超脱于电影文本反思自己对于时间纽 结的把握。

当然，影片中随处可⻅的政治宗教议题以及多处隐喻也是颇为精彩。笔者对于波兰的政治及 宗教历史不甚了解，但哈斯用⻦类、⻝物、蜡像等多处隐喻，既达成了电影场景意项的构建，也完 成了对于战争历史的指向讨论。整个电影就很容易让观众置身于二战前后的波兰去理解历史的轮 回，而其中两次在蜡像处约瑟夫的停留是最为直白明显的典范。首先，蜡像对于人物形象的冻结和 疗养院对于时间沙漏的把玩不谋而合，蜡像超越简单的机械原理开始运动，也构成约瑟夫梦境中对 于时间操作的一个互文。其次，蜡像历史人物的设置也让电影故事放置介于战争历史背景之中。最 后，蜡像的运动，形成视觉奇观，和⻦类的静止构成了令人叹为观止的对比。

最后，影片充盈的想象力，对于后世影史作品的影响也是显而易⻅的。第一次出现于小镇上 的工人歌舞表演，炫目的咏叹旋转镜头，在匈牙利诗意电影导演⻉拉塔尔的电影中可以多次找到对 应，如《鲸⻥⻢戏团》;对于奇观的塑造，恰到好处的环境背景音和色彩拿捏似乎在科波拉的《现 代启示录》中得到了传承;对于梦境的现实的交织、荒诞的宗教隐喻、特别是楼梯上房间里的裸女 情色暗示，又很难让人不想到南斯拉夫导演库斯图里卡的史诗巨作《地下》等等。哈斯将奇观的完 美展现和政治哲学的探讨隐喻融为一体，让观众彻底沉浸于他编织出的奇幻世界。

#本影评修订版发布于北京大学百周年讲堂官网以及公众号#

THE HOURGLASS SANATORIUM

We’ve almost arrived.

How will I get there?

You’ll find the way.

You don’t need help.

I’ve come a long way.

I booked a room by telegram.

Who can I see?

Everybody is sleeping.

I’ll tell the doctor when he wakes up.

Sleeping?

It’s daytime not night.

They sleep all the time.

You didn’t know?

Night never comes here.

You can wait downstairs.

In the restaurant.

The doctor will see you now.

Where is he?

We received your telegram yesterday.

We sent our coach to the station.

You must have arrived

on a different train.

The station?

We don’t have a good train connection here.

How are you feeling?

Is my father alive?

Of course.

I mean to an extent

allowed by the situation.

You know, just as I do,

that from the perspective

of your home, your country,

you father is dead.

This cannot be fully reversed.

His death casts a shadow

on his existence here.

But he doesn’t know or suspect?

Don’t worry.

Our patients don’t suspect anything.

They can’t.

You probably want to see your father.

I’ll take you there.

We reserved a bed for you

in his room, as you requested.

The trick is that we moved back time.

Time is late here by an interval

which I can’t precisely define.

It all boils down to relativity.

Here, your father’s death

hasn’t occurred yet.

But he met with his death

in your country.

So my father is dead.

- Or is close to death.

- You don’t understand.

We reactivate past time

with all its possibilities.

Including recovery.

We let our patients sleep

for a long time.

We spare their vital energy.

They have nothing better

to do anyway.

Why don’t you lie down?

There’s nothing more

you can do now.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I came to talk to you.

Go on.

Why are you spreading lies

and gossip about father?

- What lies?

- I know you’re behind them.

I didn’t lie.

You remember how he went

missing for many days.

He avoided us.

Who knows whether

he’s still alive somewhere?

I have to know the truth.

Stop tormenting me.

It’s hard to communicate with him.

How can I cope

with everything myself?

How can I answer questions

which God keeps asking me?

It’s too much for me.

His complaints terrify me.

- Don’t cry.

- I have a migraine.

You won’t go to school today.

To school?

Mom, I’m not a little boy anymore.

Yes, you are.

You’ve got ink on your hands.

Your knees are bruised.

You’re a naughty, unruly boy.

You hang out

with God knows whom.

Wake those good-for-nothings.

It’s time to open the shop.

- But I’m sure...

- Stop tormenting me.

I told you that your father

travels around as a salesman.

Sometimes

he returns home at night

only to go off again before dawn.

I’m sure he’ll come back.

You’re tossing and turning

like fish out of water.

- You sleep a bit, doze off a bit...

- Yawn a bit.

And you rest again.

You should learn wisdom

from an ant, lazybones.

An ant? Go to hell.

That ant of yours knows

no teacher, boss or shegetz.

And it’s doing fine.

What’s he talking about?

I walked the fields of a lazy man.

I walked the vineyards

of a stupid man.

Where is that from?

Our Lord didn’t say that.

Don’t listen to it!

Nettles grew over everything.

Thorns covered his land.

And the stonewall

collapsed to pieces.

Clap your hands

and call out His name

while rejoicing.

Call out his name to the sounds

of songs and trumpets.

Praise Him with harps,

praise Him with lyres.

Praise Him with the drums

and dancing.

Praise Him with stringed

instruments and horns.

Praise Him with the cymbals.

Praise him

with loud clanging cymbals.

Let everything that

has breath praise the Lord.

Alleluia.

Clap your hands and sing.

Sing.

Sing wisely.

In a dream he saw a ladder

that reaches from earth to heaven.

And God’s angels

were going up and down on it.

Is it possible?

It’s our little Józef!

Did you get lost on

your way to school?

Well?

Rascals! They’re everywhere.

When I want to go down

to get bread in the morning,

I can’t even....

...open the door.

They squeeze through cracks.

And try to get into the kitchen.

They ogle me.

They can hardly wag their tails.

They’re overjoyed

when they see a fire.

They clap their hands

and dance like savages.

They’re hopeless

at putting out fire.

But they like to celebrate.

- Who are you talking about?

- Those idle firemen.

They get lazy in autumn.

They sleep while standing.

I think you’re prejudiced.

They’re nice boys.

An old stove-fitter told me

that when he repairs chimneys,

he finds them attached

to the smoke vent,

motionless like the larvae.

They sleep like that being

drunk from raspberry juice.

And they whine in their sleep:

"Sugar, sugar".

If I glance at one of them,

his face swells and becomes

obscenely red like a turkey.

I heard that it’s a way

of strengthening the inner self.

And rejuvenating colours

when firemen eject fireworks,

rockets and Bengali lights.

I won’t give them

any juice anyway.

I didn’t ruin my complexion

hovering over the stove to make it,

so those rascals could drink it.

Unfortunately, Adela,

you never understood things

which go beyond the mundane.

Look.

Is it possible to grow hair

to the ground?

You look so different.

Just wonderful!

The captain of rascals!

"I, Anna Csillag, born in Moravia,

had poor hair growth".

I wish I had hair like that.

Would you like some water?

- With raspberry juice.

- No, thanks.

Too bad.

Her poor hair growth

was divine retribution.

But prayers and penance

took the curse off her.

She was graced with enlightenment.

She received signs

and made this miraculous remedy.

Look.

These are her brothers,

cousins and brothers-in-law.

Who’s he?

Another brother-in-law.

She made a whole town happy.

Really?

"Elsa. The fluid with a swan".

It’s a balm for all afflictions.

It works wonders.

Where did you get this book?

It’s been here all the time,

scattered around.

"Smoke all you want".

"Sexual Neurasthenia".

"Gramophones".

You silly thing.

We use its pages to wrap meat

and your father’s lunch.

It’s degradation of an original book.

You’re late.

There’s no more juice.

I have some rose preserve.

It’s not bad.

Adela!

- Try it.

- Thank you.

- It’s not a preserve.

- So what? It tastes sweet.

Is your name Jakub?

No, I’m Józef.

Jakub is my father.

I see.

Can you come out?

We can’t talk like this.

- Excuse me.

- It’s all right.

I have a valuable delivery.

Where can I find your father?

I’m looking for him myself.

Allow me to introduce

Honduras and Nicaragua.

Come closer.

It’s spotted.

That’s right.

It’s perishable.

- Birds of paradise?

- Not only.

For hatching, it’s best to let

Belgian hens sit on them.

Or you can do it yourself.

I think I see your father.

Over there!

Don’t you think he’s behaving

in a strange way?

He’s demonstrating.

Father!

Father...

You should beware of things

like narrow-mindedness,

pedantry and blind literalism.

Have you noticed that

in some books flocks of swallows

are flying between the verses?

Stanzas of swallows.

You should learn to read

from the flight of these birds.

Father. I have to tell you something.

It’s a secret.

I found an original.

- An original?

- Yes.

Look.

It’s worthless!

It’s a book!

It’s just a myth.

A book is a myth

we believe in when we’re young.

We stop treating it seriously

as we get older.

Books live a borrowed life.

Every book has a moment

when it soars into the air like

a phoenix with its pages on fire!

Look.

We love them for that moment.

But they turn to ashes.

Thank you.

Why doesn’t anybody

offer goldfinch?

Where?

A book is a myth, my son.

It soars into the air

like a phoenix.

Hyderabad.

Guatemala.

Tasmania, San Domingo.

Sierra Leone.

Labrador, Barbados,

Trinidad, El Salvador,

Borneo, Sumatra, Pernambuco.

Hiporabundia.

You’re talking nonsense.

You could say Panfibras.

Haleiwa, Abracadabra.

Why do I get the feeling

that I’ve been there before?

A long time ago.

What if we know all landscapes

that we come across in life?

Can anything new happen?

Something we can’t sense?

Do you hear me?

I want to know if all this

could have happened.

Answer me.

Did it happen or not?

Yes and no.

There are some things

that can’t fully happen.

They are too grand and magnificent

to fit into an event.

They just try to happen.

Tell me if they really exist.

She did exist.

And nothing can

take away my certainty.

Don’t be afraid.

She can’t hear us.

It’s my dead mother,

she lives here.

She’s inhabited by ghosts,

phantoms, larvae and chrysalises.

Helpless and naive,

she takes them into her dream

and sleeps with them.

She wakes up half-conscious

at dawn and remembers nothing.

That’s why she’s so sad.

She has to live so many lives.

Do you know a story

that time cannot change?

There is one that

you haven’t heard.

It belongs to the night.

Will you find the patience

to listen to it?

Somebody will walk

across the sky,

cuddling a baby in a coat.

Constantly on the way,

on a endless journey.

He’ll pass us with long steps.

That’s what’s going to happen.

Over and over again.

Bianca, you can count on me!

Till the last drop of blood!

Well?

It’s a riddle.

What about her?

She’s all grey.

The touch of her hand must

be beyond imagination.

What did you see there?

Something colourful,

colonial terrifying.

Abductions, pursuits, betrayals.

It’s a story about an abducted

and switched princess.

You’re making it up.

Java.

Sumatra.

Borneo.

I can appoint you as coregent.

Anonymously.

Together with the stamp album

we’ll form a triumvirate.

We’ll be responsible

for this unsolved affair.

With the stamp album?

What a naive question.

It’s a universal book.

A compendium of knowledge

about human life containing

allusions and understatements.

This story will be interspersed

with dashes, ellipses and sighs.

It requires a bit of intelligence

and imagination.

Your words are delirious,

ridiculous, insane.

I was fond of you, Rudolf,

because you own this album.

Now your outbursts of

envy put me off.

Don’t forget that you’re

dependent on me.

I have to get to the other side.

I know.

Her father is a ship’s doctor.

A small steam boat

with wheels at the sides

is waiting for her

every night at the pier.

It’s lights are off.

Don’t go there.

I have a bad feeling.

Don’t worry. I may seem excited,

but I have my fears.

Won’t it be safer to look through

the stamp album?

You haven’t seen New Mexico.

Remember that there

is no final Mexico.

Behind every Mexico

there is a new one.

They only seem dead.

The don’t have to breathe

for a longer period.

These villains won’t be

characters in novels.

They’re just a makeshift creation,

a one-time thing.

They were caught at a moment

when their obsession,

their madness was real.

Skilfully prepared, it became

the core of their new existence.

A new man was created

in the image of a mannequin.

This is anarchist Luccheni,

assassin of Empress Elisabeth.

And this is Draga,

the demonic Queen of Serbia.

Edison and Bismarck.

"Leatherstocking".

This is a young genius,

the pride and hope of his family.

Addiction to masturbation

ruined his life.

Unfortunately, they’re not authentic.

But we put a lot of effort

into making them look good.

Their faces are pale,

flushed from

the illness they died of.

Now take a look at

Emperor Franz Joseph.

Wrinkles on his face make him

look like he’s smiling.

But when you come closer,

you see that

his smile is just a grimace

of bitterness and terseness.

He had a younger brother,

so different spiritually

and ideologically.

This unfortunate antagonist,

disadvantaged by birth,

was Archduke Maximilian.

The emperor loved him secretly,

but planned to get rid of him.

He appointed him commander

of the Levantine Ship Squadron,

hoping that he’d go under.

Later he signed a secret alliance

with Napoleon III.

That’s him.

He used deception to involve

Maximilian in the Mexican incident.

This creative young man

renounced his Habsburg title

only to ride aboard

the French liner "Le Cid"

right into a trap.

Some sources say

he was just a cousin.

Others that he was never born.

He was conjectured from the fears

and hallucinations the emperor

experienced while sleeping.

We had problems putting

him back together

after his execution in Vera Cruz.

Unfortunately,

he still suffers from amnesia.

I had to teach him everything

about his life again.

My only success is that

at the sound of the name

of Emperor Franz Joseph

he draws his sword.

He wounded Victor Emmanuel.

The latter didn’t manage to get out

of his way quickly enough.

Bianca...

and Maximilian?

It’s a simple mechanical trick.

When wound up he moves

and acts like a live person.

A simple mechanical trick,

my foot!

A cynic in the tropics.

No, a tropical cynic.

And Rudolf said I exaggerated

and made things up.

They should take their medicine

and be in bed by now.

It’s not good to keep them

on stands for so long.

I can smell curare.

Would you like to see

my collection of weapons?

So my intuition was right after all.

Under the cover of law

and order hair-rising things

are happening here.

Will you tell me who Bianca is?

Her mother was a Creole.

Archduke Maximilian called her

lovingly Conchita.

She went down in history under

that name, through the back door.

Her mother?

You mean grandmother?

Mother.

After Maximilian’s downfall,

she took her daughter to Paris.

She lived on a widow’s pension.

That’s where history loses track

of our touching character.

Allow me to finish for you.

It’s confidential!

Keep calm and control yourself.

100,000 pesos.

My business is not going well.

It’s an expensive project.

In 1900 a Mrs. de V,

a woman of exotic beauty,

leaves France and goes to Austria

with her daughter and husband,

having fake passports.

They get arrested in Salzburg,

while changing trains to Vienna.

After checking his fake passport,

Mr. de V is free to go.

But he does nothing to get

his wife and daughter released.

That very day he goes back

to France and is never seen again.

I will be the one to identify him.

150,000 pesos.

You’re so uncompromising.

What do you want?

Your decisions will show

if you’re aware of the situation.

- I want facts!

- Stop!

I think Bianca’s origin

has been confirmed.

Negroes!

Hordes of Negroes!

Negroes at this time of the year?

The barometer

must be at its lowest point.

Bianca?

I thought you’d never get here.

- Sit down.

- No, infanta.

I have to do duties

which fate has assigned to me.

I have to carry out my plan.

Did you bring anything to read?

Decrees. Sign them.

"Daisy, Daisy give me your answer".

Barrel organs everywhere!

Real marvels of technology.

They may come in handy.

Things went so far that

I got involved in the dynastic

affairs of great monarchs.

I think we’re in trouble.

Let’s think about betrayal.

- Betrayal?

- Yes.

- Betrayal?

- That’s right.

Do you have a better idea?

I don’t understand.

It must be a wonderful feeling.

To penetrate the depths

of villainy and erase oneself

from one’s own memory.

Wouldn’t you like to be defiled

or repulsive for a moment?

But totally renewed.

Do it.

You’ll become one of them.

One of those black Negroes.

Now that things are at the final

stage you want me to betray?

You’re ridiculous with your

faithfulness and sense of mission!

- What if I chose Rudolf?

- No.

I prefer him a thousand times

over you, a boring pedant.

He would be obedient.

Even when it came to crime

or self-destruction.

Rudolf obedient?

Do you remember Lonka,

the washerwoman’s daughter?

You played with her

when you were a little boy.

- Yes.

- It was me.

Only I was a boy at that time.

Did you like me then?

Bianca, I feel everything

is going the wrong way.

Must you disappoint me?

May I see your tickets, please?

Conductor...

What is going on here?

Take it easy. Don’t panic.

We’ll fix everything quietly.

We don’t need help.

Normal facts are arranged in time.

They are threaded on it...

...like onto a string.

It’s important for

narration and continuity.

Fine.

What about events

which have no place in time?

Events which

have occurred too late,

when time has been allocated?

Is time too tight

to take in all events?

Time has its side offshoots,

somewhat illegal and dubious.

But we can’t be too fussy

when dealing with events

that cannot be classified.

Who knows? Maybe all the dirty

manipulation is behind us.

We’re heading to a dead end.

Exactly.

How can I get out of here?

Why don’t you try going

under the bed again?

- Excuse me, I have to go.

- Coward!

I hope to come back again.

Coward!

Stupid coward.

It’s you.

You don’t look well.

Everything is mixed up, father.

Father?

It takes a lot of patience to find

the right words in this confusion.

You can do it by grammatical

analysis of sentences and tenses.

What? I don’t remember.

I am, he is, she is...

I’ve got it!

You are, we are!

They are...

You need to eliminate

flirtatious chatter of birds,

their pointed adverbs, prepositions,

and timid personal pronouns

to find a healthy grain of time.

Legend books,

unwritten books, great epics,

pallid and monotonous

nameless novels,

faceless giants,

dark evening stories,

cloudy dramas,

errant and lost books.

You must have a lot of work.

The light on in your room

late at night.

Try. See if you can do it.

Fascinating!

What a beauty!

Remember. Paradisea apoda

or the bird of paradise.

Cardinalis cardinalis!

Chrysolophus pictus.

Upupa epops.

I want you to take

something with you.

Anything, at least a tiny bit.

Get it into your blood,

your life and save it.

And live with it.

Come in!

Go now.

They’re looking for you.

I don’t want to be disturbed.

Go.

Go!

Go!

Look at you.

You’re covered in cobwebs.

You ripped your coat.

You’ve been in the attic again.

Shop assistants steal from us,

people buy on credit only,

and you just play around.

Take it to the shop.

Your father must be hungry.

The shop!

They’re looking for you.

It’s hot.

Who?

The shop assistants,

especially Teodor.

I know. They’ll be climbing

the ladder up and down.

Up and down.

Józef!

I wish you

had been born earlier.

Come!

Take it to them.

It’ll scare them.

Adela, Holofernes was a man.

Whatever. I kept her in borsch

to make her look better.

I’ll buy it.

Lay off. It’s not for sale.

What? The head is in a shop,

so it’s for sale.

I’ll buy it.

Father!

Take it away.

There’s no room here.

Stop bothering me.

I’m busy.

Jakub! Go on, trade!

Father!

Wake up, Józef.

I know you’re exhausted.

It’s only a few steps more.

Father, you’re ill. You should

take care of yourself.

Can you hear him?

He’s coming.

I know him since childhood.

We went to school together.

That egoist disgusted me.

He devoured lots of buttered rolls.

Go and meet him.

He’ll think I ignore him.

Go!

If I’m not mistaken it’s Józef,

Jakub’s son.

May the sky over your heads

always be blue,

and the ground under

your feet moist with dew.

I don’t think I need to say that.

You can hear their shop

is as busy as a beehive.

It’s just appearances

and pitiful mystification.

Mother complains

that people buy on credit only.

- What did he say?

- Credit.

- I must have misheard.

- I could have expected it.

- They sell on credit.

- Enough! I don’t want to hear it.

Why do you keep bowing?

Turn your ear and listen

to the words of the wise.

Apply your heart to my teaching.

I sold for cash.

Help our fellow man

as much as we can,

but be vigilant

we don’t fall ourselves.

The seven years of plenty

will come to this land.

It was Christian Seipel and Sons,

owners of weaving mills.

The rich man laboured

in gathering riches,

and when he rests he shall

be filled with his goods.

The poor man laboured

in his low way of life,

and in the end he is still poor.

Come.

She doesn’t show up

in the park anymore.

They must be guarding her.

They smelled danger.

It’s nothing but humbug!

Extraterritoriality! Mexico!

Maximilian! Cotton plantations!

Enough!

Who told you that?

The files of this secret conspiracy

were never revealed.

I’m the owner of

this stamp album.

I won’t lend it to you again

for such purposes.

I must admit that

the whole thing is incredible.

Unbelievable.

What do you think, Rudolf?

Who could have conceived

such an evil idea,

which goes beyond any fantasy?

I’m amazed myself.

Tittle-tattle!

Our partnership is over!

Suit yourself.

I said I would prove

that it was all true.

- Where is Mr. de V?

- He’s left.

We’ll see.

Where is the infanta?

Her Highness has left too.

Nobody is here.

Right. Get out.

Somebody must have

betrayed me.

Abra...

Abra?

Abracadabra.

Great.

Come on. Get up!

Haleiwa!

Vienna!

Bravo!

Mount your horses, gentlemen!

Haleiwa!

- What’s going on here?

- This way, Your Highness.

Forward!

Gentlemen,

I troubled you in vain.

These people are free to go.

Don’t harm them.

In my blindness I wanted

to preach the scripture,

to interpret God’s will.

My false belief made me

pursue obscure clues

and make random conclusions.

Allow me, my friend.

Noble gentlemen and you, infanta.

I hand the regency to Rudolf.

I abdicate!

You’re free, noble gentlemen.

Thank you in the name

of our idea.

Our dethroned idea, which...

Hurry!

Hurry!

Father!

Call Garibaldi.

He’s an expert on wounds.

Bianca.

Get a stretcher.

Hurry!

What a fatal night.

I didn’t foresee it.

He had a noble heart after all.

I have wronged him.

Rudolf, you must comfort Bianca,

love her with double love

to replace her father.

You want to take him with you?

Let’s form a procession.

Form a procession!

One more thing, Rudolf.

I should be the one

to provide for the old age

of those homeless heroes.

Unfortunately I’m a pauper.

- How much?

- Ten thousand.

- Five.

- No.

Twelve.

Gentlemen! After what happened

no wax museum will take you in.

Competition is big.

As you have no practical skills,

my friend made a donation

to purchase twelve barrel organs.

Go around the world

and play to make people happy.

You can choose the music.

Now, dear friends

and noble gentlemen,

let’s cheer together:

Long live the newlyweds!

Farewell, gentlemen.

May what you see

be a warning to you.

Don’t ever try to guess

God’s intentions.

Ignorabimus, gentlemen.

Ignorabimus.

Are you Józef, Jakub’s son?

Maybe. Yes.

Did you dream the standard

dream of biblical Joseph?

Maybe.

Well?

Do you know that your dream

was noticed at the highest level

and was severely criticized?

I’m not responsible for my dreams.

Yes, you are.

You are under arrest in the name

of His Imperial and Royal Majesty.

I’m at your disposal.

His Imperial and Royal Majesty’s

bureaucracy is a bit slow.

I have surpassed that early dream

with more serious deeds.

I wanted to do justice

and kill myself.

Now that obsolete dream

has saved my life!

- Don’t cry.

- I have a migraine.

Come. We’ll make tea.

Is Adela at home?

Adela left to America.

She left?

She went by ship and it sank.

All passengers died.

We never heard from her again.

What about father?

Where is he?

He left many times,

but it was never final.

It had its good points.

This way he prepared us

for his ultimate departure.

Take me to him.

All right.

I think it’s time for you

to see him.

The shop is closed for good.

Sometimes I go down there

to sell the remnants.

But the shutters

are only half-open.

He was one of those

whose face was touched by

the hand of God while sleeping.

They know

what they don’t know.

They become speculative

and suspicious.

Through closed eyelids

they see images of distant worlds.

For man goes to his eternal home,

while mourners go about

in the street.

Before the silver cord is broken,

and the golden bowl is crushed.

The pitcher by the well is broken,

and the wheel at

the cistern is crushed.

Then the dust will return

to the earth as it was.

And the spirit will return

to God who gave it.

I’m so glad to see you, Józef.

What a surprise.

I feel so lonely here.

Although I can’t complain.

I’ve been through worse things.

I must tell you something.

But don’t laugh.

I rented a place for a shop here.

It’s nothing much.

Back home I’d be ashamed

to have a stall like that.

But here we had to pull

in our horns.

Isn’t that right, Józef?

Life goes on.

I must have overwound it.

I see you’re sleepy.

Go back to sleep.

You have no idea

how hard it was to get a loan.

People here

don’t trust old merchants.

Merchants with past experience.

Do you remember the optician’s

shop in the market square?

Our shop is right next door.

We don’t have a sign yet.

But you’ll find it.

You’re going out without your coat?

I couldn’t find it in my trunk.

They forgot to pack it.

Take my coat.

No. See you.

Jakub! Go on, trade.

Why don’t you sit down, father?

You’re ill. You should

take care of yourself.

Stop bothering me.

I’m busy.

A letter came for you.

It’s on my desk among papers.

On my first day here

I was served

an excellent fillet of beef

with mushrooms.

It was a hell of a piece of meat.

I have to warn you.

If they ever want to

serve you fillet of beef...

Fillet of beef...

I still feel fire in my stomach.

I have diarrhea after diarrhea.

It’s really tough.

Or take, for instance,

hunter-style roast,

stuffed with pate with gravy.

Here we don’t have to deny

ourselves anything.

We can afford

to indulge big style.

An angel of a boy.

So precious.

You must admit he’s charming.

Got a light?

Even schoolgirls here wear

bows in a special manner.

If you as much as glance at them,

you get that sultry look...

which fills us with desire.

I have to see the doctor.

He’s at the restaurant.

I’ve just been there.

Sorry.

I meant the operating room.

We’re evidently in a trap.

Ever since I came here,

the sanatorium personnel

hasn’t done anything

to provide proper care.

We’re left to ourselves.

I can’t get a bed,

not to mention clean linen.

Those secrets and discreet looks

of yours are just a mystification.

I feel like opening all those

doors to expose the intrigue

we got involved in.

Get some sleep.

You can hardly keep on your feet.

Józef, Józef...

I’ve been lying in bed here,

left without any care.

The wires have been cut.

Nobody comes to see me.

Nobody can make me

a cup of tea.

My own son has

abandoned his sick father

to chase girls in town.

Józef, you should go

to our shop more often.

The shop assistants

are stealing from us.

Our shop will go to waste

if nobody takes care of it.

Look, my heart is pounding.

My strength is leaving me.

Józef, was there

any mail from home?

Doctor...

You’re not looking well.

Take your jacket off.

I’ll examine you.

Your irritation is justified.

Your body,

especially your nervous system

has to adjust to new conditions.

We were deceived by an ad.

It wasn’t a good idea

to send my father here.

Moving back time!

It sounds good.

But what is it in fact?

Do we get fully valuable

and credible time here?

No. We get time

used up by people.

It’s frayed and full of holes.

It’s vomited, secondhand time!

You may question the quality

of your father’s existence,

but you can see him

and talk to him.

You should be

very grateful to the doctor.

Enough! Space is for people.

In space you can swing around,

turn somersaults,

jump from one star to another.

But don’t tamper with time!

The blame for this lies

in fast decomposition...

Of time.

We all know that

this chaotic element can be

kept within certain bounds

if regulated continually.

If not, it begins to play

all kinds of tricks.

Isn’t that right?

You should take better

care of yourself.

Wear warmer clothes.

To start with, get some exercise.

Later we’ll see.

Chin up!

It’s lucky that father

is no longer alive.

It won’t affect him anymore.

|

没有看过小说原著，也没有了解过导演风格以及创作背景，仅仅被它瑰丽的画面吸引过来，简单记录一下粗糙的感觉。

第一感受是灰尘味和发霉的甜腻气息。

一定是那种长久无人问津的城堡才特有的灰尘味儿和树上唯一一个快要腐烂掉的苹果所散发出来的甜腻气息。灰扑扑又摇晃晃的开场，是疲惫旅程的引子。一进入疗养院，鼻子口腔都被迫吸入了灰尘 ，接着主人公的四处闯入游走，一直被那种不适的发霉的甜腻气息包裹，直到故事结束。父亲离去，而唯一一颗苹果掉落。

其次是思绪被切碎，逻辑遭遇阻碍，远在个人体验之外的奇特感觉。

逻辑经验无法在这里得到任何有效回应，这是梦里也不曾有过的场面。门和床底是触发思绪游走的开关，或者是把眼睛闭上在重新睁开，非常意识流的表达。疗养院是大型的时间沙漏，约瑟夫在自己的时间里随意游走，到处都是蜘蛛网和厚厚的灰尘，这些部分也许是他平日里极少触碰的记忆，封闭在某个角落，很久远也很少打开。这些记忆思绪图像是我完全没整明白的地方，但以倒推的方式往回看，没有谁能真正把握自己。无逻辑的表达，错乱的图像，诗话的语言在意识里是非常合理的。通过无法被完美整合的表面，可能会更接近真相或者是真实。这份真相对于观众我而言是无意义的，或者我并不在意，但对我们每个人而言，那些看起来无逻辑又混乱却不断在沙漏里重新捡起来的瞬间都暗藏着每个人的内心。

第三感受是来自于父亲，也或许除了约瑟夫，印象最深刻的人是父亲，我的感观体验，灰尘味儿，发霉的腐烂，很大程度都是濒死的父亲赋予，约瑟夫的时间里，父亲在各个场合都显得从容睿智，被众人围绕，唯独最后的独白，他诉说了隐秘的孤独。

暂时就这样吧，有时间看看原著。

五光十色，怪异诡谲的梦境！

将现实、幻觉、梦境、回忆杂糅于一体，通过诡异的蒙太奇手法转场，让人摸不着头脑。

好吧，说实话，我没看懂........

我连看了三遍，同时将《沙漏做招牌的疗养院》看了大半本，才模糊地理解了导演想表达的情感。

时间啊……

父亲母亲啊……

战争啊……

书籍啊……

一切似乎都失去了意义，留下的只有麻木的我们。

是人与创造与记忆的博弈，如果说人是一个整体，那么记忆、创造就是部分，这亦是整体与部分的搏斗，人活着是因，记忆便是果。 没来由的发疯，你在找些什么，在追问什么，你明明知道那不可能有答案，但你就是为之行为乖张，嘶声力竭，因为你知道这样是让你舒服的方式，你必须这样。 梦魇里是一个又一个的元素，你曾经经历过的元素，你把他们拼接起来，构成了一个又一个的片段，你感觉你好像要表达些什么，仿佛是上帝的指引，但好像又全是你主观的构造，断定，你想他这样，所以他便这样了。 你给了自己一个答案，有点欢愉，但很遗憾，只要真实的世界没有变动，你就不可能恢复。你一次又一次地想起他们，因为你恨他们，或者爱他们，又或者是一种很复杂的感情，还夹杂着对自己的厌恶。 我们对事物的恐惧往往来自于内心的心虚，不安，其实没有任何事物是黑暗的，是对立的，只是因为我们害怕了。

开往疗养院的列车上，每个乘客都沉默不语，毫无生气，这是一场赴死的旅程，而人在死亡前回溯过往的人生似乎是最恰当的仪式。影片里这个走下火车，来到阴森破败布满蛛网的疗养院的男人一直在寻找父亲，他也找到了父亲，一具躺在病床上的躯体，一开始他就被医生告知父亲处于濒死状态已久，而随后的剧情里父亲总会在不同的时空或人生片段里以不同的年龄与面貌出现，同时，生命里的其他乘客也会不断出现，在这个如梦魇般的疗养院里。衣衫不整的漂亮女护士、无从下口的食物、年迈的母亲和后来遇见的年轻的看起来放浪的母亲。每当男人进入一个新的房间或是来到一个新的地点甚至是翻过一堵墙抑或是从墙洞处窥视时，都会来到或见到另一个时空和时空里不同年份的“老熟人”，包括布满人型傀儡的政治隐喻极强的房间以及总是出现的象征着新生的鸟蛋等等。这样一种打破线性叙事的碎片化段落呈现方式也更加契合了精神之旅的主题。整部影片从影像质感和政治性上都有着一股子捷克超现实主义电影的味道，虽然这片子是波兰的，但总是让我想到一众捷克片子，比如朱拉·亚库比斯克的《鸟、孤儿和愚人》以及祖拉契克的《为年轻刽子手辩护》等等之类的片子。最后男人由开始的乘客变为了列车员，迎接着下一辆到来的列车和乘客，由生到死，整部影片可以说是处于灵魂出窍的视角，一种濒死状态。