彗星美人

一直在想一个好故事的必备条件是什么？

他一定要有一个深刻的东西。all about eve在谈论一个特别重要的东西，西方人特别喜欢讲的，百讲不厌：innocence／天真。尤其在物欲横流的当下，（在这个故事背景中，好莱坞就是其意象）在充满着欺骗和伪善的世界里，这个东西特别珍贵，所以一再拿出来讲。

但意念本身没有力量，它要牵引着人物，领导着故事，就变得强大无比。

all about eve不是一个肤浅的[杜拉拉上位]的故事，是一个充满野心和欲望的女孩儿，在心计算尽后夺得权力的故事，它构筑着好莱坞／美国主流价值观，也预言着未来，预言着整个当下和全世界奉行的东西：这个世界的主流价值崇尚着权利名誉地位的欲望与野心，在追求成功的道路上，我们将失去最初最纯真的东西。天真、善良、正直、诚实，这些人性中最宝贵的东西。

所以编剧给我们塑造了margo、eve、karen、Lloyd、addison这样一班人，他们在这样一个名利的漩涡中，自主不自主的不端检测着自己内心的[innocence]。

不再一一分析了，尤为有趣的是如日中天的老明星margo和急于上位的年轻人eve之间形成的微妙对比。

或许当年margo也是这么攻于心计成就了今天的地位，但是现在的她尽管看起来老态／名利双收，应该是圆滑世故的人物，但是实则天真／直率，我觉得她不是不懂得掩饰，而是已经不在乎不愿意伪装，也疲于伪装了。在经历多年的明星生涯后，她不时袒露心扉：
The things you drop on your way up the ladder, so you can move faster.
You forget you'll need them again when you go back to being a woman.
 That's one career all females have in common - whether we like it or not - being a woman.
 Sooner or later we've all got to work at it, no matter what other careers we've had or wanted... and, in the last analysis, nothing is any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turns around in bed - and there he is. Without that, you're not woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings - but you're not a woman...
尽管这段言论很大程度上反映了女性的无力感和不安全感，反映了在这样一个男权社会里，女人的脆弱。但同时，margo呈现出特别天真，特别坦诚，也很纯粹同时脆弱的一面，我们看到一个四十岁的女人外壳下，是一个十几岁女孩儿的纯粹的内心。

相比华丽外表下依然天真的margo，eve一个天真的名字，天真的年纪，也天真的[背景故事]后面，竟是一个攻于心计的毒辣女人。这种反差很有戏剧感。

ps，整个剧看完以后有一种人性真是复杂／社会真是复杂的感觉，你不敢断然批评某一个具体的人物，却好像对人生和这个世界有了多一点点的理解，还有反思。
这就是好故事吧！


整个故事对几个女性的表现非常精彩，其中很大程度上得益于台词的俏皮／智慧与不经意的深刻，找来了剧本，供自己日后及有意者研究学习：



FADE IN:

INT. DINING HALL - SARAH SIDDONS SOCIETY - NIGHT

It is not a large room and jammed with tables, mostly for
four but some for six and eight. A long table of honor, for
about thirty people, has been placed upon a dais.

Diner is over. Demi-tasses, cigars and brandy. The overall
effect is one of worn elegance and dogged gentility. It is
June.

The CAMERA, as it has been throughout the CREDIT TITLES, is
on the SARAH SIDDONS AWARD. It is a gold statuette, about a
foot high, of Sarah Siddons as The Tragic Muse. Exquisitely
framed in a nest of flowers, it rests on a miniature altar in
the center of the table of honor.

Over this we hear the crisp, cultured, precise VOICE of
ADDISON deWITT:

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         The Sarah Siddons Award for
         Distinguished Achievement is
         perhaps unknown to you. It has been
         spared the sensational and
         commercial publicity that attends
         such questionable "honors" as the
         Pulitzer Prize and those awards
         presented annually by the film
         society...

The CAMERA has EASED BACK to include some of the table of
honor and a distinguished gentleman with snow-white hair who
is speaking. We do not hear what he says.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         The distinguished looking gentleman
         is an extremely old actor. Being an
         actor - he will go on speaking for
         some time. It is not important what
         you hear what he says.

The CAMERA EASES BACK some more, and CONTINUES until it
discloses a fairly COMPREHENSIVE SHOT of the room

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         However it is important that you
         know where you are, and why you are
         here. This is the dining room of
         the Sarah Siddons Society.
         The occasion is its annual banquet
         and presentation of the highest
         honor our Theater knows - the Sarah
         Siddons Award for Distinguished
         Achievement.

A GROUP OF WAITERS are clustered near the screen masking the
entrances of the kitchen. The screens are papered with old
theatrical programs. The waiters are all aged and venerable.
They look respectfully toward the speaker.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         These hollowed walls, indeed many
         of these faces, have looked upon
         Modjeska, Ada Rehan and Minnie
         Fiske; Mansfield's voice filled the
         room, Booth breathed this air. It
         is unlikely that the windows have
         been opened since his death.

CLOSE - THE AWARD on its altar, it shines proudly above five
or six smaller altars which surround it and which are now
empty.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         The minor awards, as you can see,
         have already been presented. Minor
         awards are for such as the writer
         and director - since their function
         is merely to construct a tower so
         that the world can applaud a light
         which flashes on top of it and no
         brighter light has ever dazzled the
         eye than Eve Harrington. Eve... but
         more of Eve, later. All about Eve,
         in fact.

THE CAMERA MOVES TO: CLOSE - ADDISON deWITT, not young, not
unattractive, a fastidious dresser, sharp of eye and
merciless of tongue. An omnipresent cigarette holder projects
from his mouth like the sward of D'Artagnan.

He sits back in his chair, musingly, his fingers making
little cannonballs out of bread crumbs. His narration covers
the MOVE of the CAMERA to him:

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         To those of you who do not read,
         attend the Theater, listen to
         uncensored radio programs or know
         anything of the world in which we
         live - it is perhaps necessary to
         introduce myself. My name is
         Addison deWitt.
         My native habitat is the Theater -
         in it I toil not, neither do I
         spin. I am a critic and
         commentator. I am essential to the
         Theater - as ants are to a picnic,
         as the ball weevil to a cotton
         field...

He looks to his left. KAREN RICHARDS is lovely and thirtyish
in an unprofessional way. She is scraping bread crumbs,
spilled sugar, etc., into a pile with a spoon. Addison takes
one of her bread crumbs. She smiles absently. Addison rolls
the bread crumb into a cannonball.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         This is Karen Richards. She is the
         wife of a playwright, therefore of
         the Theater by marriage. Nothing in
         her background or breeding should
         have brought her any closer the
         stage than row E, center...

Karen continues her doodling.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         ... however, during her senior year
         in Radcliffe, Lloyd Richards
         lectured on drama. The following
         year Karen became Mrs. Lloyd
         Richards. Lloyd is the author of
         'Footsteps on the Ceiling' - the
         play which has won for Eve
         Harrington the Sarah Siddons
         Award...

Karen absently pats the top of her little pile of refuse. A
hand reaches in to take the spoon away. Karen looks as the
CAMERA PANS with IT to MAX FABIAN. He sits at her left. He's
a sad-faced man with glasses and a look of constant
apprehension. He smiles apologetically and indicated a white
powder with he unwraps. He pantomimes that his ulcer is
snapping.

Karen smiles back, returns to her doodling. Addison mashes a
cigarette stub, pops it out of his holder. He eyes Max.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         There are two types of theatrical
         producers. One has a great many
         wealthy friends who will risk a tax
         deductible loss. This type is
         interested in Art.

Max drops the powder into some water, stirs it, drinks, burps
delicately and close his eyes.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         The other is one to whom each
         production mean potential ruin or
         fortune. This type is out to make a
         buck. Meet Max Fabian. He is the
         producer of the play which has won
         Eve Harrington the Sarah Siddons
         Award...

Max rests fitfully. He twitches. A hand reaches into the
SCENE, removes a bottle of Scotch from before him. The CAMERA
follows the bottle to MARGO CHANNING. She sits at Max's left,
at deWitt's right. An attractive, strong face. She is
childish, adult, reasonable, unreasonable - usually one when
she should be the other, but always positive. She pours a
stiff drink.

Addison hold out the soda bottle to her. She looks at it, and
at him, as if it were a tarantula and he had gone mad. He
smiles and pours a glass of soda for himself.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         Margo Channing is the Star of the
         Theater. She made her first stage
         appearance, at the age of four, in
         'Midsummer Night's Dream'. She
         played a fairy and entered - quite
         unexpectedly - stark naked. She has
         been a Star ever since.

Margo sloshes her drink around moodily, pulls at it.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         Margo is a great Star. A true Star.
         She never was or will be anything
         less or anything less...
                (slight pause)
         ... the part for which Eve
         Harrington is receiving the Sarah
         Siddons Award was intended
         originally for Margo Channing...

Addison, having sipped his soda water, puts a new cigarette
in his holder, leans back, lights it, looks and exhales in
the general direction of the table of honor. As he speaks the
CAMERA MOVES in the direction of his glance...

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         Having covered in tedious detail
         not only the history of the Sarah
         Siddons Society, but also the
         history of acting since Thespis
         first stepped out of the chorus
         line - our distinguished chairman
         has finally arrived at our reason
         for being here...

At this point Addison's voice FADES OUT and the voice of the
aged actor FADES IN. CAMERA is in MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT of him
and the podium.

                        AGED ACTOR
         I have been proud and privileged to
         have spent my life in the Theater -
         "a poor player ... that struts and
         frets his hour upon the stage" -
         and I have been honored to be, for
         forty years, Chief Promoter of the
         Sarah Siddons Society...
                (he lifts the Sarah
                 Siddons Award from its
                 altar)
         Thirty-nine times have I placed in
         deserving hands this highest honor
         the Theater knows...
                (he grows a bit arch, he
                 uses his eyebrows)
         Surely no actor is older than I - I
         have earned my place out of the
         sun...
                (indulgent laughter)
         ... and never before has this Award
         gone to anyone younger than its
         recipient tonight. How fitting that
         it should pass from my hands to
         hers...

EVE HANDS: Lovely, beautifully groomed. In serene repose,
they rest between a demi-tasse cup and an exquisite small
evening cup.

                        AGED ACTOR
         Such young hands. Such a young
         lady. Young in years, but whose
         heart is as old as the Theater...

Addison's eyes narrow quizzically as he listens. Then,
slowly, he turns to look at Karen...

                        AGED ACTOR
         Some of us a privileged to know
         her. We have seen beyond the beauty
         and artistry-

Karen never ceases her thoughtful pat-a-cake with the crumbs.

                        AGED ACTOR
         -that have made her name resound
         through the nation. We know her
         humility. Her devotion, her loyalty
         to her art.

Addison's glance moves from Karen to Margo.

                        AGED ACTOR
         Her love, her deep and abiding love
         for us-

Margo's face is a mask. She looks down at the drink which she
cradles with both hands.

                        AGED ACTOR
         -for what we are and what we do.
         The Theater. She has had one wish,
         one prayer, one dream. To belong to
         us.
                (he's nearing his curtain
                 line)
         Tonight her dream has come true.
         And henceforth we shall dream the
         same of her.
                (a slight pause)
         Honored members, ladies and
         gentlemen - for distinguished
         achievement in the Theater - the
         Sarah Siddons Award to Miss Eve
         Harrington.

The entire room is galvanized into sudden and tumultuous
applause. Some enthusiastic gentlemen rise to her feet...
Flash bulbs start popping about halfway down the table of the
Aged Actor's left...

Eve rises - beautiful, radiant, poised, exquisitely gowned.
She stands in simple and dignified response to the ovation.

A dozen photographers skip, squat, and dart about like water
bugs. Flash bulbs pop and pop and pop...

THE WAITERS applaud enthusiastically...

AGED ACTOR, Award in hand, he beams at her...

EVE smiles sweetly to her left, then to her right...

MAX has come to. He applauds lustily.

ADDISON's applauding too, more discreetly.

MARGO, not applauding. But you sense no deliberate slight,
merely an impression that as she looks at Eve her mind is on something else...

KAREN, nor is she applauding. But her gaze is similarly fixed
on Eve in a strange, faraway fashion.

ADDISON, still applauding, his eyes flash first at Margo and
then at Karen. Then he directs them back to Eve. He smiles
ever so slightly.

The applause has continued unabated. EVE turns now, and moves
gracefully toward the Aged Actor. She moves through
applauding ladies and gentlemen; from below the flash bulbs
keep popping...

As she nears her goal, the Ages Actor turns to her. He holds
out the award. Her hand reaches out for it. At that precise
moment - with the award just beyond her fingertips - THE
PICTURE HOLDS, THE ACTION STOPS. The SOUND STOPS.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         Eve. Eve, the Golden Girl. The
         cover girl, the girl next door, the
         girl on the moon... Time has been
         good to Eve, Life goes where she
         goes - she's been profiled,
         covered, revealed, reported, what
         she eats and when and where, whom
         she knows and where she was and
         when and where she's going...

ADDISON has stopped applauding, he's sitting forward, staring
intently at Eve... his narration continues unbroken.

                        ADDISON'S VOICE
         ... Eve. You all know all about
         Eve... what can there be to know
         that you don't know...?

As he leans back, the APPLAUSE FADES IN as tumultuous as
before. Addison's look moves slowly from Eve to Karen.

KAREN, she leans forward now, her eyes intently on Eve. Her
lovely face FILLS THE SCREEN as the APPLAUSE FADES ONCE MORE -
as she thinks back:

                        KAREN'S VOICE
         When was it? How long? It seems a
         lifetime ago. Lloyd always said
         that in the Theater a lifetime was
         a season, and a season a lifetime.
         It's June now. That was - early
         October... only last October. It
         was a drizzly night, I remember I
         asked the taxi to wait...

                                                        DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. NEW YORK THEATER STREET - NIGHT

Traffic is not heavy, the shows have broken some half-hour
before. The rain is just a drizzle.

There are other theaters on the street; display lights are
being extinguished. Going out just as Karen's taxi pulls up
is: MARGO CHANNING in 'AGED IN WOOD'. The marquis display
below includes "Max Fabian Presents" and "By Lloyd Richards."

The taxi comes to a stop at the alley. Karen can be seen
through the closed windows telling the driver to wait. Then
she gets out. She takes a step, hesitates, then looks about
curiously:

                        KAREN'S VOICE
         Where was she? Strange... I had
         become so accustomed to seeing her
         there night after night - I found
         myself looking for a girl I'd never
         spoken to, wondering where she
         was...

She smiles a little at her own romanticism, puts her head
down and makes her way into the alley.

EXT. ALLEY - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT

Karen moves toward the stage door. She passes a recess in the
wall - perhaps an exit - about halfway.

                        EVE'S VOICE
                (softly)
         Mrs. Richards...

Karen hesitates, looks. Eve is barely distinguishable in the
shadow of the recess. Karen smiles, waits. Eve comes out. A
gooseneck light above them reveals her...

She wears a cheap trench coat, low-heeled shoes, a rain hat
stuck on the back of her head... Her large, luminous eyes
seem to glow up at Karen in the strange half-light.

                        KAREN
         So there you are. It seemed odd,
         suddenly, your not being there...

                        EVE
         Why should you think I wouldn't be?

                        KAREN
         Why should you be? After all, six
         nights a week - for weeks - of
         watching even Margo Channing enter
         and leave a theater-

                        EVE
         I hope you don't mind my speaking
         to you...

                        KAREN
         Not at all.

                        EVE
         I've seen you so often - it took
         every bit of courage I could raise-

                        KAREN
                (smiles)
         To speak to just a playwright's
         wife? I'm the lowest form of
         celebrity...

                        EVE
         You're Margo Channing's best
         friend. You and your husband are
         always with her - and Mr.
         Sampson... what's he like?

                        KAREN
                (grins)
         Bill Sampson? He's - he's a
         director.

                        EVE
         He's the best.

                        KAREN
         He'll agree with you. Tell me, what
         do you between the time Margo goes
         in and comes out? Just huddle in
         that doorway and wait?

                        EVE
         Oh, no. I see the play.

                        KAREN
                (incredulous)
         You see the play? You've seen the
         play every performance?
                (Eve nods)
         But, don't you find it - I mean
         apart from everything else - don't
         you find it expensive?

                        EVE
         Standing room doesn't cost much. I
         manage.

Karen contemplates Eve. Then she takes her arm.

                        KAREN
         I'm going to take you to Margo...

                        EVE
                (hanging back)
         Oh, no...

                        KAREN
         She's got to meet you-

                        EVE
         No, I'd be imposing on her, I'd be
         just another tongue-tied gushing
         fan...

Karen practically propels her toward the stage door.

                        KAREN
                (insisting)
         There isn't another like you, there
         couldn't be-

                        EVE
         But if I'd known... maybe some
         other time... I mean, looking like
         this.

                        KAREN
         You look just fine...
                (they're at the stage
                 door)
         ... by the way. What's your name?

                        EVE
         Eve. Eve Harrington.

Karen opens the door. They go in.

INT. BACKSTAGE - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT

Everything, including the doorman, looks fireproof.

Eve enters like a novitiate's first visit to the Vatican.
Karen, with a "Good evening, Gus -" to the doorman, leads the
way toward Margo's stage dressing room. Eve, drinking in the
wonderment of all the surveys, lags behind. Karen waits for
her to catch up...

                        EVE
         You can breathe it - can't you?
         Like some magic perfume...

Karen smiles, takes Eve's arm. They proceed to Margo's
dressing room.

EXT. MARGO'S DRESSING ROOM - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT

No star on the closed door; the paint is peeling. A type
written chit, thumbtacked, says MISS CHANNING.

As Karen and Eve approach it, an uninhibited guffaw from
Margo makes them pause.

                        KAREN
                (whispers)
         You wait a minute...
                (smiles)
         ... now don't run away-

Eve smiles shakily. At the same moment:

                        MARGO'S VOICE
                (loudly; through the door)
         "Honey chile," I said, "if the
         South had won the war, you could
         write the same plays about the
         North!"

Karen enters during the line.

INT. MARGO'S DRESSING ROOM - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT

It is a medium-sized box, lined with hot water pipes and
cracked plaster. It is furnished in beat-up wicker. A door
leads to an old-fashioned bathroom.

Margo is at the dressing table. She wears an old wrapper, her
hair drawn back tightly to fit under the wig which lies
before her like a dead poodle. Also before her is an almost
finished drink.

LLOYD RICHARDS is stretched out on the wicker chaise. He's in
his late thirties, sensitive, literate.

Between them, by the dressing table, is BIRDIE - Margo's
maid. Her age is unimportant. She was conceived during a
split week in Walla Walla and born in a carnival riot. She is
fiercely loyal to Margo.

Karen enters during the line Margo started while she was
outside. Lloyd chuckles, Birdie cackles.

                        KAREN
         Hi.
                (she goes to kiss Lloyd)
         Hello, darling-

                        MARGO
         Hi.
                (she goes right on - in a
                 think "Suth'n" accent)
         "Well, now Mis' Channin', ah don't
         think you can rightly say we lost
         the wah, we was mo' stahved out,
         you might say - an' that's what ah
         don' unnerstand about all these
         plays about love-stahved Suth'n
         women - love is one thing we was
         nevah stahved for the South!"

                        LLOYD
         How was the concert?

                        KAREN
         Loud.

                        BIRDIE
         Lemme fix you a drink.

                        KAREN
         No thanks, Birdie.

Karen laughs with them.

                        LLOYD
         Margo's interview with a lady
         reporter from the South-

                        BIRDIE
         The minute it gets printed they're
         gonna fire on Gettysburg all over
         again...

                        MARGO
         It was Fort Sumter they fired on-

                        BIRDIE
         I never played Fort Sumter.

She takes the wig into the bathroom. Margo starts creaming
the make-up off her face.

                        MARGO
         Honey chili had a point. You know,
         I can remember plays about women -
         even from the South - where it
         never even occurred to them whether
         they wanted to marry their fathers
         more than their brothers...

                        LLOYD
         That was way back...

                        MARGO
         Within your time, buster. Lloyd,
         honey, be a playwright with guts.
         Write me one about a nice, normal
         woman who shoots her husband.

Birdie comes out of the bathroom without the wig.

                        BIRDIE
         You need new girdles.

                        MARGO
         Buy some.

                        BIRDIE
         The same size?

                        MARGO
         Of course!

                        BIRDIE
         Well. I guess a real tight girdle
         help when you're playin' a lunatic.

She picks up Lloud empty glass, asks "more"? He shakes his
head. She pours herself a quick one.

                        KAREN
                (firmly)
         Margo does not play a lunatic,
         Birdie.

                        BIRDIE
         I know. She just keeps hearin' her
         dead father play the banjo.

                        MARGO
         It's the tight girdle that does it.

                        KAREN
         I find these wisecracks
         increasingly less funny! 'Aged in
         Wood' happens to be a fine and
         distinguished play-

                        LLOYD
         - 'at's my loyal little woman.

                        KAREN
         The critics thought so, the
         audiences certainly think so -
         packed houses, tickets for months
         in advance - I can't see that
         either of Lloyd's last two plays
         have hurt you any!

                        LLOYD
         Easy, now...

                        MARGO
                (grins)
         Relax, kid. It's only me and my big
         mouth...

                        KAREN
                (mollified)
         It's just that you get me so mad
         sometimes... of all the women in
         the world with nothing to complain
         about-

                        MARGO
                (dryly)
         Ain't it the truth?

                        KAREN
         Yes, it is! You're talented,
         famous, wealthy - people waiting
         around night after night just to
         see you, even in the wind and
         rain...

                        MARGO
         Autograph fiends! They're not
         people - those little beast who run
         in packs like coyotes-

                        KAREN
         They're your fans, your audience-

                        MARGO
         They're nobody's fans! They're
         juvenile delinquents, mental
         detectives, they're nobody's
         audience, they never see a play or
         a movie, even - they're never
         indoors long enough!

There is a pause. Lloyd applauds lightly.

                        KAREN
         Well... there's one indoors now.
         I've brought her back to see you.

                        MARGO
         You've what?

                        KAREN
                (in a whisper)
         She's just outside the door.

                        MARGO
                (to Birdie; also a
                 whisper)
         The heave-ho.

Birdie starts. Karen stops her. It's all in whisper, now,
until Eve comes in.

                        KAREN
         You can't put her out, I
         promised... Margo, you've got to
         see her, she worships you, it's
         like something out of a book-

                        LLOYD
         That book is out of print, Karen,
         those days are gone.
         Fans no longer pull the carriage
         through the streets - they tear off
         clothes and steal wrist watches...

                        KAREN
         If you'd only see her, you're her
         whole life - you must have spotted
         her by now, she's always there...

                        MARGO
         Kind of mousy trench coat and funny
         hat?
                (Karen nods)
         How could I miss her? Every night
         and matinee - well...

She looks to Birdie.

                        BIRDIE
         Once George Jessel played my
         hometown. For a girl, gettin' in to
         see him was easy. Gettin' out was
         the problem...

They all laugh. Karen goes to the door, opens it. Eve comes
in. Karen closes the door behind her. A moment.

                        EVE
                (simply)
         I thought you'd forgotten about me.

                        KAREN
         Not at all.
                (her arm through Eve's)
         Margo, this is Eve Harrington.

Margo changes swiftly into a first-lady-of-the-theater
manner.

                        MARGO
                (musically)
         How do you do, my dear.

                        BIRDIE
                (mutters)
         Oh, brother.

                        EVE
         Hello, Miss Channing.

                        KAREN
         My husband...

                        LLOYD
                (nicely)
         Hello, Miss Harrington.

                        EVE
         How do you do, Mr. Richards.

                        MARGO
                (graciously)
         And this is my good friend and
         companion, Miss Birdie Coonan.

                        BIRDIE
         Oh, brother.

                        MARGO
         Miss Coonan...

                        LLOYD
                (to Birdie)
         Oh brother what?

                        BIRDIE
         When she gets like this... all of a
         sudden she's playin' Hamlet's
         mother...

                        MARGO
                (quiet menace)
         I'm sure you must have things to do
         in the bathroom, Birdie dear.

                        BIRDIE
         If I haven't, I'll find something
         till you're normal.

She goes into the bathroom.

                 &

我记得初中时候学一篇什么什么游记，有一句“鸢飞戾天者，望峰息心；经纶事务者，窥谷忘返”，初读时候暗自心惊了一下。作为聪聪儿长大的我，即使在最不爱学习的阶段也盲目自大，心高气傲，觉得自己以后肯定不是一般人儿。可是可是，“鸢飞戾天”这四个字，把通常被认为是美德的"上进"、"要强"写得多么面目狰狞，可厌可憎。

 

今天在白底小碎花的被窝里看了《彗星美人》。一个还算天生丽质的女人伊娃，机关算尽太聪明，扮猪吃老虎，从编造身世摇尾乞怜到反客为主鸠占鹊巢，啊呀呀，真是看的人心惊。霸道专横表面强势的玛歌呢，其实是最“傻”的，完全不同人情事故。不过没关系，她是天生女明星，有独特的、强大的，混合的、迷人的魅力。最终伊娃得到了原本属于玛歌的一切地位与声名，而玛歌的境界高出一筹，到达了她的幸福终点站——婚姻，于是洗尽铅华投身平淡生活，也就原谅了那个“粉丝”用于窃取光芒的卑鄙手段。

 

玛歌，一如大多数成功女强人，在不如意的时刻对好朋友倾诉：女人呀，最终还是给别人准备三餐，打扫房间，不然就不是女人。女人呀，向上爬的时候丢掉了女人最重要的一切，竟然忘记自己最后还是要作女人的。看到我不禁有些黯然···而伊娃后期的靠山，影评人杜威特在与伊娃摊牌的时刻说，你我都一样，利用所有资源实现自己的目标，心底里蔑视人性，我们才华横溢，是杀手，是冠军。

 

诶，大反派的自白一向让我觉得亢奋（《狮子王》里的刀疤在山洞里的那场戏我看了多少遍），胸有成竹步步为营小不忍则乱大谋卧薪尝胆，我喜欢冷峻，理性，效率和长久忍耐换一时快感。可是，毕竟不喜欢欺骗，虚伪，前倨后恭或者前恭后倨——那不是冠军，只是欲望的奴隶。

 

人又说这是一个关于做人难做女人难做名女人难上加难的故事，不止如此吧。做主人还是做奴隶，姿态潇洒还是卑鄙，这里边的标准和困难程度对男女都差不多。我喜欢玛歌，要风光时风光无限，要转身时不顾一切。大的随遇而安，自然而然。她的爆炸和温柔都让我振奋，让我相信四十岁以后会有另一种精彩。伊娃啊，她是小人，她做的恶心，比起玛歌还太低段。要强上进或是安于现状都只是人生选项的一种，而低级、高级是另一道题，一道决胜的大题。

 

所以捏，既然上进不一定要出卖良心，自己往上爬不一定要把别人往下踹，成功不一定要一将功成万骨枯，和谐社会了；所以鸢飞戾天，那就去。孙悟空说“我要那天，再也遮不住我的眼”的时候，我简直为之倾倒倾倒倾倒再倾倒直至倒地不起，那里面有崇拜有心疼，崇拜加心疼。如果飞累了就停下，别怕那时会绕树三匝无枝可依。林子大了，鸟多了去。

 

这电影里有个闪了几下的女龙套，一个又傻又漂亮眼睛到处放电的女演员，是梦露，那时还清瘦。

这是一首著名的老歌，贝蒂·戴维斯，就是本片里面饰演玛戈的女演员。

她才华横溢，骄傲自负，恣情任性……时而令人厌恶，时而令人怜惜，那么充满个性，富于魅力。

这也是真实生活中戴维斯的写照。特立独行是并非真正美女影星戴维斯成功的秘诀。在影片里她的演出挥洒自如，举手投足都那么戏剧化，却又那么真实自然。——这就是影视界这个垃圾场所需要的明星，她们活在作家的影剧里，沉浮于影评人的笔尖上，陶醉在自我的表演里。

埃娃也是一样，她的生活中充满了欺骗和演技，她的痛苦并不亚于玛戈，或者更甚于玛戈。关于埃娃的一切，就是关于马戈的一切，甚至也是关于玛丽莲梦露饰演的出卖色相的小明星的一切……

也就是关于影视界的一切。

在这个大年夜下午来看这样一部戏，还真是应景。

这部作品居然放在玛丽莲梦露的专辑里，连封面也都是小玛梦幻般的笑脸。以为至少在里面会是一个角，却看到快一个小时才看到她纯龙套的出场。在那之前我一直试图把EVE看成是玛丽莲梦露饰演的角色，但是却实在觉得她很难和性感浮华的梦露联系起来。梦露有着天使般纯真简单的笑容，而EVE的微笑，有着一种难以名状的沉静朴实。

我至少最开始时被温和谦逊的EVE蒙蔽了，被她平静的眼神和沉着的姿态所打动，觉得这是一个沉迷戏剧的追星族，但是不卑不亢应对自如的神情又是一般追星族所不具备的。她有着让人放心的平庸姿色和忠诚老实的基本品质，于是理所当然被她所崇拜的明星玛戈收容在家，一时间她成了玛戈的妈妈、保姆、朋友、秘书、经纪人。

看到玛戈慢慢的对她起了疑心，开始为此和男朋友吵架，和编剧导演翻脸，才发现这个女人真是不简单，她原来一直都在不动声色的铺设着自己的道路，往上爬的每一爪子都很有力道。善良的编剧夫人，把她引荐给玛戈，因为恻隐之心暗中帮助她的卡伦，居然都被她威胁并且差点失去自己的老公。

玛戈和EVE是两类人。玛戈的崛起是天生的，EVE的走红则完全是人为的。可能正因为这样，玛戈有着大咧咧、直率简单的性格。EVE则小心翼翼、处心积虑。虽然EVE得到了她想要的，在戏剧界取得了一席之地，从此展开她自己事业上新的篇章，但是不得不让人对她的成功鄙夷和担忧。牺牲了道德和自我，即使成功，却没有了朋友，之后的EVE该何去何从呢？

这部戏对演艺圈里的前浪后浪，暗礁汹涌，勾心斗角，台前幕后诠释得淋漓尽致。据说是世界上第二杰出的影片，唯一的缺点是对60年后的观众来说，2小时17分钟的影片实在有点长了。

影片最打动我的地方在玛戈的一段独白。被朋友出卖却毫不知情的玛戈，坐在冰天雪地的小车里，抽着烟，半睁着迷人而有点空虚的眼睛，说：女人的事业总有结束的一天，而那之后她所做的就是给别人准备一日三餐。在那一瞬间，对于这个40岁虽然当红但是却迟早要退出舞台的老演员来说，爱情和稳定的生活终于压倒了所谓的名和利。她也在那时候开始，无所谓了自己的事业，也理解和怜悯了EVE。在看到EVE拿到奖杯致答谢词的时候，她的眼神恢复了女王般的自信，带着不屑，带着认可，深邃悠远，有一种预知未来的宿命感。总觉得似乎梅艳芳的眼神和玛戈有点类似。

不知道是谁翻译的片名，彗星美人的诠释和原名“ALL ABOUT EVE”相比，显然更加贴近影片的中心思想。EVE憧憬了，成功了，成为了星星一颗，但是这也不过是茫茫星空中绚烂一瞬，这闪耀不过只像彗星一样转瞬即逝。

很戏剧性的是，里面的玛戈扮演者BETTE本来就是当时好莱坞大牌明星，一直被人追捧。EVE扮演者则是比较名不见经传的ANNE，而这个ANNE似乎之后也没有太多作品。

忽然想到韩剧《夏娃的诱惑》，为什么此类影片总喜欢把这类女人叫做EVE呢？