酷儿们

剧本来源：BBC官方网站 搬运/侵删

Queers. s01e01 Episode Script

The Man On the Platform

Douglas Fairbanks there thinks he's in with a chance.

A bit of company on a wet Friday night.

Except old Dougie doesn't have a cast in his eye and a built-up shoe.

At least, not last time I was at the flickers.

It's always the eyes.

That's how you know.

A glance held just that little bit too long, dragged off to one side, like the trail of a Very light in the dark.

After the do, the, um, interview .

.

the officer asks me, not unkindly, I must say, "So how do you chaps, "chaps like you and the captain, know one another?" So I told him.

Not my words, something somebody said to me once.

"A certain liquidity of the eye.

" That's how HE knew.

My eyes are bad, mind you.

Too bad for shooting Prussians at any rate, so I was shunted onto hospital work.

"Cushy", says Sam.

"That's a charabanc holiday, Perce.

"You always wanted to see France, didn't you?" I remember my first day in resus - the resuscitation tent.

That's where they take the dying or the nearly dying and the shocked ones.

There's heated beds to put some life back into them, and transfusions.

Our guns were going hell for leather.

The sky was all lit up - powdery, green.

Horrible green.

Like the air was sick.

Star shells, Verys, dumps going up.

And then the ambulances come in and we have to ferry them in, the ones that can't walk.

And they've got these labels on them that tell you what's wrong with them.

Like left luggage.

Have you ever carried a stretcher? Bloody horrible.

You feel like your arms are going to pop out of their sockets.

Some chaps can get very heavy.

Those that can walk into the hospital .

.

are covered in mud and salt sweat.

Caked in it.

All stiff and cracked, like moving statues, like those poor fuckers in Pompeii what got covered in lava.

I've seen photographs of them in the lending library.

And then, in the resus tent, a thing you'd never expect.

Silence.

Not a moan or a groan.

They're beyond all that, I suppose, most of them.

Smoking, breathing, just about.

Mind you, I've seen what a transfusion can do and it is a bloody miracle.

Lads with one foot in the grave and their pulses all thready, they have the transfusion, they're up, they're joking, they're having a smoke in a couple of hours.

I said to Captain Leslie, I said, "You wouldn't credit it, would you? "It's like It's like witchcraft.

" "Sounds about right", he says, "since we're in hell.

" But he says it with a smile and when he does that there's these creases in his cheeks like ripples in the sand.

"You're a credit to this unit, Percy", he says to me.

"You've all the tenderness of a woman.

" And he shakes my hand.

"It's Terrence," he says and I says, "What is?" He says, "Me.

"My name.

Terence Lesley.

"Do call me Terence.

"I can't bear all this formal rot.

" But he's an officer and it don't seem right, so, "I'll stick to Captain Leslie," I say, "if it's all the same.

" He just smiles again and shrugs.

And his eyelashes are long.

Long and blonde.

I can't see much of his hair cos it's under his cap, but then one day I'm bringing in a stretcher .

.

and he takes his hat off and, just like that, his hair tumbles out.

Yellow as corn.

And I must have stared because he grins at me and pushes his hair out of his eyes and says, "Come along, Perce, stir your stumps.

" But I don't move.

And just for a bit Well, like I say, held just a just a moment too long.

Douglas Fairbanks over there will give me a wink in a minute.

There you go.

HE SIGHS KNOWINGLY I've always been a skinny bugger, me.

Thin as a whip, Mother says.

Father was the same.

Mother always had a bit more beef on her after she had Albert and me, and there was one before us.

A boy.

But he died.

He was called Percy, an' all.

Poison berries.

Never think a thing like that can happen, but it does.

I can remember Mother showing me the pictures in the medicine book, all shiny and glossy pictures like Jesus in the book at Sunday School.

And little Percy had grabbed a handful of these berries and .

.

that was that.

Box, I think, the berries.

Black, like little bullets.

Like liquorice sweeties.

Maybe that's what little Percy thought they was.

Anyway, they done for him and then, a year or so after that, along comes I and they call me Percy, too.

A bit odd, some might say, a bit morbid, but Mother always said that she could see him in me.

And she looks so funny when she says that to me .

.

and she looks so sad.

But I don't think it's just because of little Percy because there was another time she looked at me the same way.

It was freezing, I remember that.

We was waiting for a train.

Dad had some business in Reading, I forget what it was.

We were to come with and make a day of it.

I was 15, thereabouts.

Albert was 12.

I'd been dispatched in search of tea and buns.

They all sat in the waiting room, steam coming off them like wet dogs.

Anyway, I'm on my way to the refreshments and there's a commotion, so I think, "Oh, the train must be coming in," so I say to the girl behind the tea stall, pretty girl I remember with bows in her hair, I ask her to get a shift on.

She says, "What's the hurry? The Reading train isn't in for another "quarter of an hour.

" So I think, "What's all the fuss about, then?" And then I see it ahead of me on the platform.

Policemen, at least I think they're policemen, but then I look properly and they're not, they're from the jail.

Dark uniforms, little hats with shiny brims.

And between them, well, aa prisoner .

.

waiting to be taken away, I suppose.

And it's not the first time I've seen as such.

I used to see them a lot, poor bastards, shuffling along in their chains and the arrows on their clothes.

And it's rough clobber, like to make you itch, worse than this.

So, "Why are all these folk whispering and pointing?" I wonder.

So I look at the chap in the chains and he's a big chap, sort of like a big bear of a fella.

With a big slack, pouchy face.

Fat-ish, except it's all sunk in now, and his hair, which was most likely black as your hat is now shot through with grey.

And he looks wretched.

As well he might.

There's rain dripping off his hair and down the creases in his big face.

And then I realise, it's not just rain, he's bloody crying.

And then he looks at me.

And there it was.

In that moment .

.

a certain liquidity of the eye.

And then he looks back down at his boots and it's as if the whole world has come tumbling down around him.

I stand there.

And I think, "He knows me.

"He knows me for what I am.

"He can see it in me.

" And I start to shake.

And it's not from the cold, it's shame.

And fear and .

.

terror.

And someone starts laughing.

And there's a little girl and she's wandered close to the prisoner.

She's got a little wooden horse on a dirty bit of string.

And then her mother goes up and drags the girl away from the man as if he were like to eat her up.

And then I hear it, a name.

Whispered behind fancy gloves and November hands what are stiff with cold.

"It's him, isn't it?" And suddenly Dad's beside me and he's gripping my arm and he says, "You all right, Perce?" And he's proper worried.

And there's a sort of ringing noise in my ear and I feel for a moment like I might faint, but then this chap goes straight up to the prisoner on the platform and he He spits in his face.

And Dad looked shocked.

And just then, the train comes puffing into the station, steam everywhere.

And I look back to the prisoner, but he's covered now in a great big cloud of steam.

Dad picks up the tea and the buns and he gets us into the carriage.

It smells of damp wool and musty, like church, and there's little beads of rain on the window, the open window.

And Mum pulls down the leather strap and the sound sort of .

.

snaps me out of it.

"What was all that fuss about there, Clem?" And Dad sups at his tea and it hangs in little drops from the ends of his Kitchener 'tashe.

"You won't believe it," he says.

"Out there on the platform, waiting to be taken to prison" "Who?" pipes up Albert.

And he looks at us and he shakes his head in wonder.

"Oscar Wilde!" he says.

And then Mum looks at me.

Tender, like I've never had the nerve.

That's the thing, I suppose.

A notion of getting in trouble or being a bother I could always imagine Mother's face if she found out I'd been up to things.

And I couldn't bear it, I couldn't bear to disappoint, so I didn't, I didn't do anything about it.

Not even a tuppeny wank with Sam or nothing.

I kept my own counsel, as they say.

Also, there was a girl who was sweet on me.

Annie.

And that sort of stopped people asking, I suppose.

We courted for a long while, but she got fed up because I never asked her to marry me.

I took on like Annie had broke my heart and then, what with one thing or another and then the war, it sort of, somehow, I got away with it.

A lot of questions, of course.

Especially when all us Tommies were billeted together for the first time.

"You married?" "No.

" "You got a girl?" "Well, I used to.

" And then one day, in Amiens, there was a sort of lull.

Hot as hell it was.

Not what you think.

People think of all that mud and rain, but we was there the live long year and sometimes it was hot and parched.

Fucking flies everywhere.

Blue and green bellies on them.

Fat.

Great clouds of them because of the dead bodies.

And Captain Leslie comes up to me and he slaps me on the shoulder and he says, "Come along, Perce, we're going hunting.

" And I say, "What?" He says, "Butterflies", because we're camped on this sort of downland.

And there's marigolds and poppies all over, little splashes of colour.

I can still taste the dust.

Chalky in your mouth and your hair and .

.

on the Dunlop tyres like white paint, because Terrence had only gone and got us bicycles, the silly bugger.

And it was only for a few hours but you could forget, you know, for a bit, everything that was going on.

And we came to this sort of lake.

It was a crater hole, I suppose, and the water was glass green and clear like a perfume bottle.

And Terence, he starts hollering and rattling the bike down to the water and he pulls off all his clothes and in he goes.

I follows, and then we go splashing about in our birthday suits.

And he's brick red from the sunshine, but not where his shirt's been, so he's got this sort of red face and arms, and the rest of him is He's like a ghost.

And after we've swum about, we just lie in the grass and fall asleep.

You can hear the buzz of the flies, but they are way off and some of the ones that are closer are butterflies, so that's all right, and I just .

.

lie there and I watch Terence sleeping and .

.

his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

And his hair is golden.

And the line of his jaw is just sort of .

.

perfect.

Like a draughtsman's drawn it.

Like I'd drawn it.

And his lips are dark and full and they're like bramble.

And all I want to do is bend down and And he opens his eyes .

.

and squints.

And he lifts his hand to cover them so he can see better.

And he says, "We'd best be getting back.

" We all had on us the stench of death.

The bread we ate, the stagnant water, everything we touched had a rotten smell.

But that day, everything was OK.

It was bright.

And it was pure, you see? And nobody had seen, had they? I've done my bit.

The officer mentioned that.

Exemplary service.

When he took me aside for a quiet word.

And of course, what had Terence and me What had the Captain and me .

.

got up to? Sweet FA.

But someone had seen us and .

.

they thought, "Hello, what's going on here?" And it's bad for morale and all of that, so I was to be sent elsewhere.

And, of course, I didn't get to see the Captain, did I? Because he'd been transferred, too.

I was packed onto this carriage .

.

sweat and tobacco smelling and fellas pushing up against you and shoving for room, and the train gives a great big lurch and then it starts off.

I just sit down on the floor and pull me cap over me eyes and drift off.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I wake up and it's dark outside.

And the train's pulling into a station and in the carriage it's just these little night lights on - bluey.

They make everyone look three-parts dead.

And the train pulls into the station and it's going slow, like, puffing, like some of them boys in the resus tent.

And then, I do see him.

Terence.

He's out the window, on the platform.

Grey coat, hair tucked under his cap, neat.

And he's talking to someone.

And they must have made him laugh cos there's those little lines in his cheeks again.

But he don't see me.

So I push through the carriage past the other fellas and it's not easy now cos most have dropped off and I trip over some poor bugger and he curses me, but I make it to the window and I pull down the sash .

.

and the air outside is warm.

And all I want to do is wave.

But, of course, what can I say? Um "So long, Captain Leslie?" "So long, Perce.

" But then he does see me.

He glances over, but he's still talking to his pal and just then the train lurches forward.

The brakes go on and the blue lights go out and just like that, pitch-black.

And all the other fellas in the carriage start groaning and someone says, "Oh, here we fucking go," but all I can feel is my heart beating and the air.

And the darkness pressing against the window and my hand gripping the window ledge.

And then someone takes my hand.

Someone outside on the platform.

And it's Terence.

And he takes my hand and he just .

.

lifts it to his lips and he kisses it.

There's no train then, there's no troops, there's no war.

There's just his bramble lips pressed against the tips of my fingers .

.

and all the hair on my neck goes up on end.

And then the train lurches forward and he's let go of my hand and all the blue lights go on, and Outside there's nothing but steam.

Steam and darkness.

Next Episode >

Queers. Episode Scripts | More Television Show Episode Scripts

E01 The Man On the Platform

You can hear the buzz of the flies, but they are way off and some of the ones that are closer are butterflies, so that's all right.

and I just lie there and I watch Terence sleeping and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

And his hair is golden.

And the line of his jaw is just sort of perfectLike a draughtsman's drawn it.

Like I'd drawn it.

And his lips are dark and full and they're like bramble.

And all I want to do is bend down and And he opens his eyes and squints.

And he lifts his hand to cover them so he can see better.

And he says, "We'd best be getting back.

There's no train then, there's no troops, there's no war.

There's just his bramble lips pressed against the tips of my fingers .

E02 A Grand Day Out

It's funny, isn't it? Because if they'd said yes, if they had made it 16 .

then I'd have gone straight home.

E08 Something Borrowed

From that, the last one left standing, unpicked at PE, the saddo sitting out the school disco slow dances because he couldn't wrap his arms round the one he wanted, the teenager looking for love in pissy public toilets and parks after dark .

To this.

Respectability.

Propriety.

Decorum.

And then he said, gentle as anything, and I'm not going to do the accent.

"If there's a gay kid in here with his folks, frightened that he's a freak, don't you think that it might give him hope, seeing two guys wandering around, being themselves, getting their groceries, like everyone else?"

If happiness is a place, it's the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury's.

And anywhere else I am with him.

And the best view ever isn't Uluru, or Iguazu, the Taj Mahal, the Grand Canyon, or even Edinburgh as seen from Arthur's Seat on a clear autumn day with the Forth shimmering in the distance.

It's the nape of his neck when he's lying asleep in my arms.

I know we don't get happily ever afters in real life.I'm a hopeless romantic, not a total fucking idiot.

As my friend, Russell, said to me once, "Even with the happiest couples, one of you dies first." But first there is such unalloyed joy.

BBC的选题策划，编剧的剧本台词，演员的表演张力。

写影像之书的初衷，想要活成每一人，每一物。

不能做到的话，就活成边缘人，少数人，非常人。这里说的非常人绝非贬义。事实上，每个人都是非常人，不是吗。无论我们是谁，无论我们爱的是谁。

这周本来想写圣罗兰，艺术家，时尚宠儿，数不清的灵感，很有得写。就在动笔前一刻，打开了17年的英剧《酷儿们》，然后就有了这一篇文章，很符合日落使我头皮痒的初心。我想，圣罗兰与他的先生也会很高兴看到这一篇文章的。不过，我也只能分享看完《酷儿们》的感受。说感同身受和完全理解，那肯定是糊弄人的。

酷儿们的伟大时刻，在时空中分散的，将在爱中凝结成火。

《站台上的人》

1917年，佩尔斯，士兵，一名瘦弱的同性恋。

记得我15岁的时候，在街上看到两名警察追捕疑犯。我走过去询问，他们抓的是谁？是奥斯卡·王尔德。

总是靠眼神，靠眼神就能知道。那一瞥延续了有点长，然后才转向另一侧，像是黑夜里划过一束光。

一瞬流光的眼神，就足够了。他，就是这样知道的。

我记得在复营——复苏营的第一天。寂静，难以忍受的寂静，只有伤员。

我对莱斯利上尉说，我说：“你不会相信的，是吧？”“听起来很好，”他说，“既然我们都在地狱里。”当他笑着的时候，脸颊上的皱纹就像沙漠里的涟漪。

“你让这个小队有了保障，佩尔斯”，他跟我说，“你有着女人一样的细心。”他突然握了我的手。“泰伦斯，”他说，我没反应过来：“什么？”他说，“我，“我的名字，泰伦斯•莱斯利，就叫我泰伦斯。”

“我还是叫你莱斯利上尉吧，”我说，“反正都是一样的。”他又微笑了接着耸了耸肩。他的睫毛很长。长，而且是金黄色。我不能看到他太多头发，因为他戴了帽子。但有一天，我正在搬着担架，看到他脱下帽子，他的头发就那样露出来，玉米一样的金黄色。我当时一定是盯着他的，因为他朝我咧嘴笑了，然后他拨开眼睛前的头发对我说：“快点，佩尔斯，赶紧跟上。”

但我没动，就一会儿……像我说的，就是，就是很长的一会儿。

我们躺在草地上，能听到苍蝇的嗡嗡声，但它们离得很远，离得近的是蝴蝶。他的喉结上下起伏，他的头发金灿灿的，他下巴的弧度简直是……完美 。他的唇色很深，嘴唇饱满，像黑莓一样，我想做的只是弯下腰……

那天，我们什么都没做。可是，还是有人看到了我们。他们想着，“哦，这儿有些什么？”这简直有伤风化之类的，所以我要被调到别处去了，哦，当然了，我没能见一面上尉， 因为他也被调走了。

有一天，我就坐在火车的地板上，用帽子遮住眼睛，迷迷糊糊地睡着。我不知道过去了多久，但当我醒来的时候外边是黑的。火车进站了。在车厢里只有夜灯零星的蓝光，让每个人都看起来像被截成了三段。突然，我看到了他，的的确确是他，

泰伦斯。

就在车窗外面，在站台上。灰色外套，头发收在帽子里，干干净净。他在跟某人说话，他们让他笑了，因为他的脸上又浮现出褶皱。但他没看到我。所以我挤过车厢，穿过人群，那并不简单，因为很多人都还没醒。我被某个家伙绊倒了他还骂我。但我走到了床边，拉下框格，窗外的空气很暖和。我想做的就只有挥手。

当然了，我还能说什么？

“再见，莱斯利上尉？”

“再见，佩尔斯。”

但之后他也看到我了，扫了一眼，但仍在和他的伙伴聊天。突然见，火车向前一抖。开始制动，蓝光熄灭了，一下子一片漆黑。整个车厢的人都开始抱怨，有人说：“他妈的灯又灭了。”

但我能感到的就只有心跳和空气，还有紧贴在车窗上的黑暗。我的手紧抓着窗台。然后有人握住我的手，窗户外面站台之上的某人，我知道，是泰伦斯。他握着我的手，抬到嘴唇边上，然后轻轻吻了一下。没有火车，没有军队，也没有战争。只有他黑莓般的嘴唇，紧贴在我的手指上。我脖子上的汗毛都竖起来了。然后火车又向前抖动了一下，他放开了我的手，所有的蓝色光又亮了起来。窗外只有蒸汽，蒸汽和黑暗。

《伟大的一天》

1994年，英国国会同意将同性恋合法年龄下调至18岁，双方同意的同性恋行为不算犯罪。

1994年，我，17岁，同性恋。今天，英国国会同意将同性恋合法年龄下调至18岁，双方同意的同性恋行为不算犯罪。

我不明白，18岁在这里有什么用？既然要撤罪，何不撤得更合理一点，我觉得定为16岁不是更好吗？算了不想了，至少比起过去，这也算是一种进步。你看，就在这间酒吧里，那里有一群同志们。我认出他们了，他们昨晚也去了议会，还投了反对票。我说拜托，哪一个同性恋会投反对票？我不敢相信他们认为自己是有罪的。

我也去议会了。感觉很奇怪，我以前总是一个人，不知道还有谁是......嗯，同性恋。而昨晚，有很多人，我们都很棒。我环顾四周，然后想：“这些都是好人。”然后想，他们当然会投对票，怎么不会呢，投错了又有什么意义

然后我看到了他，他也看到了我。他很可爱，我有点害羞，我跟他回了家，和他过了一夜。他说他是BBC的会计员。天哪，所以这真的是第一次，感觉做什么事都合法，和一个会计，我不知道自己在做什么，我还谎报了年龄说自己是18岁，但是他很好，很有耐心。

我确实是做了。

我在想：“现在来看看我在干嘛啊？”

我感觉真好。

《多点愤怒》

1987年，英政府开展“艾滋病：不要死于无知”活动，这是一个重大的公共信息宣传运动，给英国的每个家庭都发了一份关于艾滋病的传单，警告说，我们无法分辨出谁感染了这种病毒。

我，菲尔，男演员，同性恋。我在等待我的测试结果。我不会的，只是碰巧，我只是不小心染上。

在荧幕上，我演的也是同性恋，经常被屠杀，染病，锒铛入狱，父母抛弃我，让我找个好女孩结婚。总之，我不会有什么好下场。不夸张，这些事在现实中也经常发生。

那天，我认识了一个人，他叫西蒙。我原以为，爱情可有可无，床伴更加重要。

这是我的爱情魔咒，爱不了人。可是今天，它被打破了，我的魔咒。

我爱上了他，西蒙，像中了毒。我跟他回了家，他拥抱了我，告诉我他得了艾滋病。

“但是我把自己照顾得很好，你不用担心，你不会染上的。”

他对我说。

说实话，我当时害怕了。

我沉默了，逃走了，像个懦夫。

可是怎么办，西蒙打破了魔咒。

昨天，经纪人给我打电话让我去试镜，同性恋角色，克莱夫，没有生病。BBC的人说，不会生病，都写在合同里了，活的，和其他角色一样，有主线，只是从同性恋的角度。那就是进步了，不是吗。至少不是在棺材里演完整场戏。

后来我想起西蒙，幻想我们牵手去电影院，哦我现在可以扮演恋爱中的样子了 。

这几天，警察关闭了很多同性恋酒吧。他们戴着橡胶手套，说是为了躲避艾滋瘟疫。

我没想到会有一天，一个人只是由于爱上另一个人，就足够有罪了，甚至还是死罪。

许多我们爱的人死去了，剩下的人对这些事已经司空见惯，这世界太疯狂了。

他们说，同性恋等于艾滋病，我还需要更愤怒吗！

《想念爱丽丝》

1954年，英国成立了专门委员会研究应该如何处理“同性恋犯罪与卖淫”。1957年，英国政府报告提出“同性恋不是一种病”以及“任何成年人之间，在相互允许情况下，私下进行同性恋活动不应被认为是犯罪”

我，爱丽丝，两个孩子的母亲。

我和迈克尔是在在教堂里遇见的，只相识了两个月，我们就结婚了。

可我们从来没有亲密地过夜。

当我们有了自己的房子，他总是很晚回家，一直说工作很忙。

有一天，他带了一份礼物回家，这让我很担心。

我问他，是哪个女人给他的礼物。

“不是个女人，爱丽丝。”

我懂了，我的丈夫是同性恋。

我们没有离婚，就这样以夫妻的名义度过了10年，我们还有一个孩子。

事实上，我也没有地方可去。

今天，我在报纸上看到了这份报告，同性恋不再是犯罪。

我们手挽着手，去看了电影。回家的路上，我问他对这一报告有什么想法。

这倒不是出于担心，我只是好奇。他笑了笑，什么都没说。

然后，当我们看完电影，在回家的路上，他突然说：

“我会想念你的，爱丽丝。”

我曾试图结束我的存在，我很擅长自杀。在别人的故事中隐藏是很难过而恐怖的事。在决定这些事的时候，至少问问当事人，我们是否可以代他们说话。

所以，包括你在内，所有的酷儿们，请骄傲地说出自己的故事吧。

无论我们是谁，无论我们爱的人是谁。

我要说，我是常人，我要说，我是非常人，我要说，我是我性。

他性，它性，她性，一旦被察觉，都是一样的。

下个月的今天，5月17日，是“反对仇视同性恋、双性恋与变性者国际日”——国际不再恐同日。

不要讲什么黑白，这个世界是彩色的。

S01 The man on the platform Ben Whishaw，一战故事，八集里面打头阵，看到现在最隽永动人的一个。一战太惨烈，而以此为背景的爱情故事都平添几分摧人心肝的伤感。 法国，亚眠，战地医院，湖水，草坪，金盏花，罂粟，雾气蒙蒙的车站。一个迷人的上尉，有着金色长睫，蓬松金发，浅浅酒窝，当他温柔的微笑，邀请你去狩猎蝴蝶，是多么难以拒绝，更何况周围是死亡围绕战火纷飞。即使心知他是你的大司命，你也会牵住他的手。 愁人兮奈何，愿若今兮无亏。 固人命兮有当，孰离合兮可为? 他美好的像一个梦，仿佛是凭空的由阳光送来，是众神的宠儿，赤足的美少年，手持金箭，即使是林中狩猎，也是那么轻灵不沾尘，与血腥无关，只是追逐花的灵魂。 看着Ben这个忧郁的士兵，视力受损，心灵受创，说不定还有PTSD，一瞬间恍惚疑惑他是否沉浸于幻想。看他吞吞吐吐，欲言又止，疏离和沉迷转换，一时Captain一时Terrance，眼神一时滚烫一时冰凉，身不由己！ 他纠结自己的出生，那个意外去世的兄长，自己贯了他的名字成为自己，身不由己；童年时偶遇雾气中狼狈的男子，对自身的了悟，仿佛是上天推了一把。母亲忧伤的注视，男子挨的一巴掌，从此铭记在心中，谨慎度日，身不由己；遇上战争，走上屠场，身不由己；而遭遇爱和分离，更加是身不由己！ 边缘人，queers，若不是颠沛流离途中，站台上，漆黑夜里，指尖上传来温柔一吻，更能用什么来慰籍平生!这是神无限的恩赐垂怜。 车行了，窗外只有雾气，他仿佛没有来过，剩下是悠悠岁月寂寂人生难测的前途和一颗惶恐的心。 爱神昭显了自己的面目，a certain liquidity of the eye，你得以一睹他的真容，他来无影去无踪 ，不过是人生站台一闪而过的身影。

编剧太牛了 冲着编剧也会给五星

第一集 The Man on the Platform 1917

本喵在谈及 与Terrence 也许是第一次的对话时，眼中有着星星。

而当谈到他们在站台上最后一次见面时，Terrence吻了他的手，然后一切在因为火车启动的蒸汽中消散，就如他第一次见到穿着囚服的王尔德一般。

故事含蓄而内敛，但处处都有着伏笔照应，乍看有些平淡清水的情节，却暗暗道出了感情的力量。

第二集 A Grand Day Out 1994

1994年英国议会同意将同性恋合法行为下调至18岁，双方同意的同性恋行为就不算犯罪。这是在这个决议出来后的第二天，一位17岁的少年对昨晚发生的事情的回忆。

只是觉得这句台词说得很好， 接纳有种被同情的感觉。

当少年带着俏皮的声音读出他的名字

少年的表情很丰富，小动作也显得那么可爱。而且这一次的感情表达要直白得多。

看到第二集有种看历史变迁的感觉。

第三集 More Anger 1987

一位演员 但不论是谁，谈及工作大约也是这样无奈

当他知道同性恋角色没有生病的时候 感觉特别开心

Simen告诉他，他是positive

YES

有种终于出现了一丝希望，然后绝望再一次降临的感觉。不知道还能说什么，就这些图吧。

第四集 Missing Alice 1957

1957年9月4日由沃芬敦爵士提交给英国政府一份报告，提出“同性恋不是一种病”以及“任何成年人之间，在相互允许的情况下，私下进行的同性恋行为不应该被认为是犯罪”。

真不知道妈妈说的这句话是暗示了后来娶她的Michael不是传统意义上的男人吗？

Michael向Alice坦白的时候也只是说 not woman 而不是 a man

最后在1957年 报告公布后 Michael还是离开了Alice

讲道理，emmm，也不知道能讲什么道理，就是这么一件事吧

第五集 I Miss the War 1967

在1967年，英国的英格拉和威尔士地区，法律正式取消了同性恋罪名，规定年满21岁，双方同意的同性恋行为不算犯罪

难得糊涂，也难得清醒得认识自我

并不觉得 充分利用拥有的东西 是一件可耻的事情

这句话也许应该广而扩之， 给那些无聊的人当作消遣

及时行乐

第六集 Safest Spot in Town 1941

1941 伦敦大轰炸

虽然有诸多歧视，但也有自己想要保护的人，为了自己想保护的事物而战

welcome back

第七集 The Perfect Gentleman 1929

1929年 全世界陷入一场经融危机，黄金从英国和欧洲源源不断流入美国

一个姑娘扮成了一位绅士

但当说到pass时 有种复杂的感觉

这句话说出来感觉在哭

谈及喜欢的人 眼中有光

第一次穿上男装

爱人迟迟不来

最后一个眼神 最后一个镜头

第八集 Something Borrowed 2016

2013年7月同性恋婚姻法颁布

对于婚姻，而非蛋糕

对啊，所以熊孩子都有自己的熊家长

hhhhh

看眼睛！！！

If happiness is a place

until death do us apart

最后一个故事真的很甜了

佩尔塞天生瘦弱，还因为哥哥误食浆果夭折，爸妈将哥哥的名字赐予佩尔塞，总是在他的身上，搜寻故去的哥哥的影子，给他增添了一丝忧郁的气质，再加上之后在惨无人道的战场上，目睹太多的生与死，他变得敏感阴柔，与人群中的众多男子截然不同。

大约十五岁的佩尔塞，在一次陪同父亲出差的路上，在站台碰到了被警察驱逐的王尔德。不尽的唾骂和冷眼，无数的鄙夷和嘲笑，却让佩尔塞和王尔德在一闪流光的眼神中相遇，认出了彼此与众不同的身份，这应该是佩尔塞第一次正视并认同自己的身份吧？站台上弥漫着的茫茫的雾气，以及王尔德眼眶中流下的泪水，无疑给这段奇特的经历，蒙上了一层忧伤的面纱。而这次忧伤的遇见，也注定烙印在佩尔塞心中，难以磨灭。也注定了他和泰伦斯的相遇、相恋与分离。

一次遇见一段故事的开始

第一次和泰伦斯拉近距离，或者说是两人真正的相遇，应该是佩尔塞讲起如同巫术一般的输液，泰伦斯嘴上说着我们都生活在地狱，可是微笑时脸颊上的皱纹，对佩尔塞却像是沙漠中的涟漪般亲切。在那样迷人的一个瞬间，佩尔塞的内心全面沦陷。之后泰伦斯不顾自己上级的身份，让佩尔塞直呼自己的名字，应该也是对佩尔塞动了心吧？这种让下级直呼自己名字的做法，别有一番说不出的亲密感觉。他们应该感受到了彼此眼中，那种一闪流光的眼神了吧？并在那种美妙的眼神中，读懂了彼此。

泰伦斯沙漠中涟漪般解救佩尔塞的微笑，如同玉米般金黄色迷人的头发，笑着轻轻撩动眼前头发的动作，无一不吸引着佩尔塞，尤其那句佩尔塞快跟上，简直是致命一击。是啊，这样一个迷人的男子，多想整个世界只有他和他两个人，他把手放在他手里，任由他牵着，随便去哪里都好，他会一直在后面跟着，可是残酷的世界不允许他这么疯狂，他只能呆立在原地，望着眼中的爱人出神。

一次约会一次亲密的接触

闷热躁动的天气，用前女友隐藏身份的烦闷，无尽肮脏的泥浆和恼人的雨水，触目都是横陈的腐烂的尸体，成群结队的恶心的绿色苍蝇，一切都是如此的难以忍受。可是泰伦斯轻轻拍着佩尔塞的肩，对他说一起去抓蝴蝶，多么浪漫的旅程。满山的金盏花和罂粟花，蝴蝶在花间翩翩飞舞，两个花季的少年，骑单车穿行在花海之间，耳边是略过花海的芬芳的风，那一刻全世界都不再重要，一切的隐瞒和烦闷都可以一扫而光，他们只有彼此。

如同香水瓶般碧绿纯净的湖水，如同碧绿纯净湖水的两个少年，一丝不挂，完全摊开自我，对彼此彻底坦诚。在湖水中嬉闹，在草坪上做梦，就连苍蝇的嗡嗡叫，似乎也没那么讨厌了。他安静地躺着，阳光下他上下起伏的喉结，金黄玉米般的头发，拥有完美曲线的下巴，如黑莓般饱满可口的嘴唇，一切都在眼前，宛如草坪上的一场美梦。浑身的恶臭，喝的死水，腐烂的气味，把那一天衬托的更加美好。身体是脏乱的，约会却是纯净的。

一次别离一个难忘的亲吻

不经意地被撞见，不怀好意的被举报，在那个残暴的年代，这样美好的爱情，却要驱逐，两个相爱的人，各自发配。列车即将远去，汗水混合烟草的难闻气味，横七竖八如同死了的睡着的人们，他在车厢中，睁开迷迷糊糊的睡眼，忽然就看到了他，那个他在心中想念无数次的人。他穿过拥挤的人群，冲到车窗前，刚一挥手，爱人就看到了他，一切是如此的美好。相遇是美好，离别亦是美好。

仿佛上天也不忍心分开相爱的两个人，车厢颤抖，灯光熄灭，相爱的人两个人终于握紧彼此。泰伦斯握住他的手，轻轻放在自己的唇边，朝圣般轻吻，在那一刻，世界全都消失，没有火车，也没有部队和战争，只有他神色的唇，紧贴在他的手指上。之后车子发动，灯光亮起，世界继续往前，他却没了他，周围只有无边的蒸汽和黑暗。但无论如何，他们终究有了一个完美的结局，往后的余生里，可以无数次重回这里。

怀念一生

从此之后，无论在人群中再遇见多少次，如同老道格一样一闪流光的眼神，遇见多少个如同自己的同类，他始终都无法再次遇见他的泰伦斯。但无论如何，他们的那一次相遇，那一次相约，那一次分离，都注定会在记忆中永远闪闪发光，就像黑夜中闪过的一道光，照亮彼此的一生。无论这一世的路如何艰辛难行，无论世界如何蹂躏虐待，这份记忆都足以慰藉此生。

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