卡罗尔2015

看了十遍，不吐不快。

在冲奥加题材加导演加编剧的多重保险下，虽然白天看了8个小时视频都快吐了，回到家后还是打开卡罗尔看了起来。

这一看不要紧，我用了一个星期，大概看了十遍，从手机小屏幕渣画质，到大荧幕，所有能看的设备几乎都试了一遍，耐下性子，平心静气的看。看什么——看这个片子有什么可以看的！！！

别笑，真的。

然而至今，我都没找到看点。用某人的话就是：不抓人的戏不是好戏。那么，卡罗尔不是一部好戏。

近乎两个小时的剪辑，缓慢的叙事，无非是讲了《多金少妇爱上我》的故事，又名《少妇的自白—同性情人和孩子之间的抉择》，好了，Fin. 别的没了。

特芮丝和卡罗尔的故事基本上是脱离了社会背景而存在的，虽然卡罗尔的丈夫一直在纠缠，然而卡罗尔的丈夫一踢就倒的特质实在是让人出戏，整个事情是脱离了社会现实而存在的。女同小说和电影很容易犯的毛病就是脱离现实，一不小心就成了矫情狭窄的玛丽苏个人幻想，一句从美艳御姐口中说出的“我离婚了，孩子归对方，在麦迪逊大道有个大房间，你想来住吗”隔五秒“我爱你”，任何一个弯掉的妹子都会扑上去吧，如果这个情节换成郭敬明来拍，估计又会被骂惨了。当然这事儿得赖原著海史密斯这个意淫狂。我想，如果换成迪士尼来改编成动画电影或许比真人电影要好很多。

私以为，电影的意义在于引起观众的思考或者共鸣，然而这部电影很难引起观众的反映。（当然，纯粹看演员颜值的粉丝除外）我实在看不懂导演究竟想要表达什么。卡罗尔从头到尾的貂皮大衣和特丽莎显眼的花色帽子象征意义微乎其微，他们真的是“道具”啊！除此之外，从头到尾复古的滤镜，几乎多此一举的倒叙，尤其是反复出现的两位女主的对视每一次的差别也特别小。恕我视听课和电影理论课没有学好，实在看不出东西来。我竭力把自己武装成一个迷妹，然而无济于事，是的，女王的大红唇和傲人的曲线也救不了这部电影。

天鹅绒金矿的时候，托德海因斯选对了题材，他用他的视觉才华柔和传记奉献给我们一部精彩绝伦的电影。

然而这一次，我只想说：海因斯你在你视觉美学的海洋中过足了瘾，可是，你把观众当什么？

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有的豆友提出，他被这部电影的细腻所打动，如果是这样，我推荐李宋喜一的同性题材作品《夜间飞行》来感受一下细腻感情的影像化表达。

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诸位看官，如果你觉得这篇评论没用的话，能留言告诉我你为什么觉得这部电影优秀吗？只是想了解一下，谢谢！------2.25更新：大家怎么不说说你喜欢这部电影的理由呢？要做一个和这部电影有关的项目，所以请各位留言觉得我说得不对的看官，能在表达你的不满时顺便说说你觉得这部电影究竟哪里优秀吗？一个一个发豆油或者回复不过来呀！在此谢谢大家了！------3.19更新：作业已提交，引用了大家的部分观点，再次谢谢大家的留言！

评论第二页电梯//movie.douban.com/review/7713428/?start=100#comments

  看了carol在纽约的点映，一连两场，几乎满座。电影院6个厅里有四个在放carol，不禁感叹纽约人民在文化活动这件事上超高的幸福指数。你想看的，你想见的，只要穿过难以置信的肮脏与拥挤，都能见到。看完电影整个人都处在一种极其懵逼的状态下，站在寒风中等机场巴士，忍着一天没吃没喝的饥肠辘辘排队安检，这些场景现在回忆起来显得格外模糊。而清晰是，电影院里一对又一对沉默的情侣，为爱情流眼泪的男男女女，还有该死的忘不掉的爱情。首先做个总结陈词，谢谢海因斯，谢谢女王，谢谢麻辣妹子，谢谢纽约，谢谢感恩节。这对于我来说是一场万人齐心的梦，是近期感受到的最壮阔而又细腻的事情。

  然而故事还是那个俗套的故事，无非是性向摇摆的多金中年白富美与不满恋爱现状的文青小白兔之间的牵绊和拉扯。一见钟情，共进午餐，互生好感，结伴旅行。做陷入爱情的人都会做的事——做爱，亲吻，伤害，挽回。很多侧面或正面的小细节都处理的很好，比如小记者对therese说“你应该多拍拍人”，比如therese和男友之间关于boy’s love的争论，比如女王把手搭在therese的肩上时therese无法掩饰的紧张，再比如妹子读了carol给的分手信自己跑到草丛里吐。不得不说，todd比女人更了解女人，有些小场景一出，少女们纷纷捶胸顿足，恨自己怎么就没有过如此真实而又铭心的恋爱经历。

  有一幕给我印象格外深刻，是发生在carol抛下therese消失在旅行途中之后。carol坐在出租车里，正在赶去一个类似于庭外调解的小型会面。路上行人来去匆匆，carol望向窗外，看见了therese，穿着红色的毛衣格子裙，手中拿着黑色的小本子，穿过人群与车辆。与不久前曾经伤害过的恋人偶遇，她看不见你，你久久凝视，凝视着极力克制住的情感，凝视着她也凝视着自己。caol的心理转变发生在一瞬间，真实，克制，不说一句，没有流下一滴眼泪，内心却如同千万波涛汹涌着，冲击过早已瓦解的堡垒。在这里，cate为所有人奉献了教科书般的演技，细微到几乎无法察觉的面部表情变化，眼神里的隐忍，呼吸间的紧张与压抑——没有任何多余的动作，完美到令人发指。这是一场不动声色的崩溃，也是重生，它发生的极为突然，却让你如此深刻的体会到命运的定数和爱情的魔力。有了这一段的铺垫，自然有了后面在调解会议上她的一番话，承认和therese之间发生的事情，不抵赖，不妥协。她克制住自己的情感，最后一次表明了自己的立场，“我不会再妥协了。如果你执意不允许我见女儿，我们可以上法庭。但那样我们会变的ugly,我们都不是ugle的人，不是吗。”说完，carol哭着走出调解室，抛下其实无辜的丈夫，和一段再也没有意义的婚姻。其实这里关于ugly的说法是很有趣的，可能正是由于carol与前夫之间并没有太多单方面的情感，才会以ugly来定义整件事的未来走向，有种旁观者叙述故事时的清白与掌控力，又透露出婚姻生活的种种无奈与无力。也是因为这里，才更能对比出carol和therese情感间的交互，深刻，以及不受控。

  或许是看戏的过客过分敏感，太过痴心；或许是妹子超越年龄的演技（感觉凭这一部麻辣可以轻松拿到所有最佳女主，有几幕她比cate演的还要好），让自我代入变得极为容易与自然；又或许是导演的恶趣味，巴不得全世界的女人都因为cate弯成一盘蚊香（恶趣味这件事有证可循，详见nyff采访和cannes记者见面会，对于“中国女生看过预告片都变弯”的反复强调）。总之电影会让人产生一种持续力超强的crush，更致命的是你可能会发现这场crush是个无头案，既不是对therese也不完全是对carol，好像只是迷恋上了一种氛围，在现实中不可见，在电影中又转瞬即逝。但只要抓住了，便是掉入了不复的深渊，久久难以抽离。于是心心念念着再看一遍只看一遍，却可能不自觉又反反复复琢磨了好几十回。而充满胶片感的一帧帧画面，是这场集体暗恋的源头。

  不得不说，电影用16mm摄影机拍摄呈现出的明显的粗粝感，在电影院里感受的应该是最为深刻。复古拍摄手法的运用，也让一切感情的流动变的缓慢，宁静，克制。和原著不同，therese的设定从舞台设计师变成了摄影师。基本上胶片机不离手，也有一场在暗室里冲洗照片的独角戏。她把照片纸放进药水里，用夹子再加出来，抖落下水滴，然后久久凝视着照片中的carol。这是一种很奇妙的体验，胶片的质感为观众营造出一种触碰感，而影片里的人，也触碰着用胶片机拍摄出的照片。情欲的流动，不再仅仅局限在电影里。todd通过这个改编，创造出一种看似不可能的纽带，让一些东西从carol的一颦一笑滑落到therese的每一张照片上，再一转，自然的流进每一个电影院里观众的心。你要问我这些究竟是什么，我不太想说。因为这是一种隐秘的恋爱的心情——不可能之可能，每一个电影观众都曾深深幻想过的极为致命的不足为外人道的bad romance。

  我不否认有人指出的carol被过誉，因为的确它只是一部完美的水准之作。题材讨巧，演员惊艳，拿捏的恰到好处的复古，这一切让它在起点比其他电影高的同时也丧失了一种生气与惊喜。然而这部电影的精妙之处在于，在克制与爆发间找到了一个完美的平衡点。所有人都凝神屏息的站在这个平衡点上，以小格局来放大人类与人类之间最最普通的情感。同性爱的挣扎与抗争被弱化，最浓烈的笔墨都献给情感的摇摆。这是优点还是缺点，争辩在看完电影后已经毫无意义。因为没有人能抵挡住todd的特写。每一支烟，每一次转身，每一次欲言又止沉默不语，每一次眼神交汇意乱情迷。这是每一根发丝都生机勃勃充满爱意的美，这是寂寞世界上最远离天堂的天堂，这是每一个失魂人拼命寻找的归途与故乡。

  就让画面停止在最后的对视。当装饰统统撕去，彼此赤裸相对。好像有什么东西悄悄从你身体里升起，然后又重重落下。你带着它开始奔跑，身处千万个陌生城市，身处千万个房间，身处荒无人烟的小岛，身处地狱，身处天堂。

随手丢一个结合个人经历的观后感链接：http://www.douban.com/note/528243740/

    两周前在纽约电影节看的这部片子，当时看完趁导演和主演还没走出来问答的空当儿，上豆瓣打了五星。虽然刚看完感觉片子并没有像预期中的那样成为一部“了不起的杰作”，但有托德海因斯的稳定发挥，从故事完整性，节奏的把控，画面的精美程度，演员表演等各个方面来看，都是一部完成度极高，几乎挑不出毛病来的作品。

    然而刚看完以后那种压抑又兴奋，掺杂着感动的情绪并没有持续太久，取而代之的是一种失落感，失落的是这样一部令人期待的题材和电影，仍走不出以往同性爱情电影中话题与共鸣之间无法平衡的怪圈：如果不是因为同性，她们的爱情故事未免流于俗套，而过分强调同性，又削弱了主角之间感情的纯粹与真诚。也许在这类影片中寻找“深刻的社会属性”本身就是一种过度诠释，但不可否认的是，类似的同性题材在近些年的电影节当中可谓赚足了眼球。一方面利用同性题材的敏感性先入为主的抬高立意，一方面却对同性恋在社会中所受到的阻力避而不谈，这绝不是创作者的本意。说到底，可能因为敏感的并不是同性题材，而是我们观众自己。

    故事背景在托德·海因斯擅长的五六十年代，低饱和的红绿色调，大萧条后的纽约街头，圣诞之前的寒冷天气，无一不营造了一种绝望的氛围，仿佛在这种绝望之中任何人与任何人相爱都是顺理成章。片头使用倒叙，先插补了一段结尾时两人分手又重逢的感情戏，加以铺垫，一边钓足了观众的胃口，一边在结构上弥补了两个人相爱时的前戏不足。特芮丝先于卡罗尔出场，交代了她商店营业员的职业和圣诞节前夕的时间背景，然后就是主角卡罗尔出场了，一个不知道该给自己的孩子买什么礼物的贵妇。这一段的可贵之处在于在某种程度上打破了同性题材中必须“一攻一受”的思维模式，虽然卡罗尔穿着奢华的貂皮大衣，而特芮丝只是个营业员，但此时需要帮助的是前者。她试图在商店里点烟而被制止的尴尬，不知道买什么礼物给孩子时的手足无措，无疑使她在这时处于相对的弱势，即使从她的眼神中我们感到，这有可能是她把妹的一种惯用手段。短暂的相识使得主动权来到了特芮丝手中，似乎在这场游戏中她不是卡罗尔的猎物，而是一个她想接近却又不敢试探的对象。那对遗留在柜台上的手套到底是卡罗尔的诱饵，还是特芮丝主动出击的猎枪，都是值得玩味的小细节。

    虽然俩人好得很快，但胜在点滴入微，从家宴到送相机，从旅行到上床，水到渠成。丈夫（前夫）作为两人爱情的主要破坏者可能是一些人认为影片不够激进的原因之一，因为这个角色主要是一个受害者的形象，甚至可以说是一个可怜的人。但正是这种不左不右的态度使得这部片子没有过分强调性别意识和同性恋在社会舆论中的地位，而是把重心放在了两人的感情本身上，这种处理方式比同样题材尖锐的《远离天堂》显得还要高明一些。试想一下，如果一开始就在两人亲密出游时补一些男人们议论纷纷的镜头，或者借男人之口对特芮丝的冷淡加以点评，那么无疑把对两性意识形态的描写提上去了，但品位一下就low了，变成了另一种自以为是的“政治正确癌”，不好。但正是这种在两性题材上非常克制的把控，使得影片的高潮显得不够刺激和煽动（当然，如果把床戏当做高潮的话那就够了）。丈夫雇佣的私家侦探录下了两人的性爱音频，这本是一桩现在看来都非常严重的侵犯，但这么做的目的不是扳倒卡罗尔的社会地位，毁掉她的人生前途，而是为了在离婚诉讼中抢夺孩子的抚养权。虽然同样作为一个母亲我非常理解丧失抚养权对这个角色的意义，但是放到通篇中看，仅仅把离婚诉讼作为戏剧冲突中最大的“障碍”使得这一段的情绪爆发显得有些张力不足。

    判断同性之爱在主题中是否重要的一个简单方法就是问一个问题：如果把特芮丝的角色换成男性，那个故事成立吗？答案是不仅成立，而且异常合理。但故事就变成了一桩我们熟悉的婚外情始末，一则单纯的爱情小品。

    另外补充就是卡罗尔的闺蜜这个角色，前史过多，交代不清，作为情节的润滑剂很好使，台词帮助镜头丰满了卡罗尔这个人物，但是过于分散注意力，我觉得反而是删掉比较好。

    开头和结尾的重逢段落是我非常喜欢的，文学性很强，凯特和鲁尼表演也是教科书般的走心，与这一段相似的是《相见恨晚》中的车站离别，不知海因斯是否有致敬的意思。同样是千言万语化作几句寒暄，同样是一个聒噪的第三者打破气氛，经过前面的铺垫，最后临别时肩头的一按，力量比一个吻还要重。结尾时特芮丝寻找卡罗尔的段落是一个比较好的情绪出口，避免了被打断的对话而带来的不安感，“众里寻她千百度”，最后找到了，啪，停。干净利落，不说废话。

    最后总结就是，我个人认为，整部影片的叙事镜头表演都拿捏得恰到好处，简洁，克制，不留余地，也没有在题材上故弄玄虚，自命不凡，但是“同性”作为主题的核心基本没有体现出来，是一部比较纯粹的爱情电影。

原文发在weibo。做了很细小的调整。发到这边。

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下午在电影院三刷完Carol，想来是时候好好的再写一篇影评了。而且是一篇Carol视角的影评。大概是看了太多人一边说着Carol实力撩妹，膝盖拿走，一边碎碎念着她是个渣攻。又或者大批的迷妹们一边被小白兔水汪汪迷恋的眼神感动的一塌糊涂，一边又抱怨着不知道Carol爱Therese啥，或批判着Cate过分刻意的演技。然而就像Cate说过的，电影的目的不是说教，而是激发你的情绪，思考，感官。所以我无意批判他人的观点，这是想从我的角度出发，聊一聊Carol到底为什么爱，怎么爱，又爱的多深。

很多人说，Carol不过是Les版的霸道总裁爱上我。但是，不管从什么程度上来说，Therese都不符合那些霸道总裁文里的傻白甜女主设定。人家不傻不白，老实说也不甜。而这些恰恰是Carol喜欢她的地方，也恰恰是Therese被形容为flung out of the space的原因。她年轻，没什么历练，第一次和Carol约会各种紧张显而易见。但是比起50年代的大多数传统女性对于自己的定位：嫁人，成为某某人的妻子，Therese不愿意。Therese不愿把自己定位在某某人女朋友，某某人妻子这样的角色上，她只想成为她自己，至于自己是怎么样，她一直在寻找。而这种不依附与他人（特别是男人）的自我认定也是这部剧里三位女主最相似，或者最有共鸣的地方。

1. Therese: 和Richard第一次吵架的起因是，Therese决定继续往摄影师方向努力，于是告诉Richard自己想要整理一下她的摄影集。然而Richard完全不care，直接打断，转了话题。而摄影师是Therese对于自己的定位之一（而不只是在商场卖娃娃）

2. Carol：Harge第一次出场时，他邀请Carol去某个party，他说：xxx的妻子邀请你…还没说完就被Carol打断，说：是Janette，xxx的妻子叫Janette。这里充分表现Carol多么反感用xxx的妻子来描述一个人。

3. Abby：Harge圣诞节闯到Abby家要人，说Carol不在家，不和自己一起，就一定和Abby一起。Abby说，是啊，你花了十年时间确保Carol的一切都是关于你。这里也表达的Abby是多么反感这种将禁锢在丈夫身边的婚姻。

4. Therese+Carol：Therese第一次去Carol家，被问到是否做摄影师。当时Therese的回答不是太有自信。但是Carol说，既然你想要，那么就去做，去努力，不用去怀疑自己的天赋。
说了那么多电影的细节，我想表达的就是，没错Carol和Therese来自完全不同的背景，有着完全不同的人生经历，但是，其实他们的自我认定是极为相似的。这不正是成为伴侣最基本的条件之一嘛。

虽然尽管如此，我也承认，和Therese不同，Carol最开始并非一见钟情，甚至有些调戏的意味在。这也就和不少人说的“Cate前半段的举手投足都看得出可刻意，后半段才发挥好 （从weibo上抄的原话）”搭上了。因为刻意的不是Cate，而是Carol。这种刻意也随着Carol自己的越陷越深慢慢消失殆尽。没错，最开始，从初遇，到第一次午餐，到送礼物，Carol的每一个眼神，撩头发的动作，居高临下俯视的姿态，都是一种刻意的调戏与勾搭。她喜欢Therese，并且一眼看出这孩子对她的痴迷，她甚至知道，自己不用全力以赴，就能得到Therese的欢心。Cate用精妙的演技表达出了Carol最初的那种带着强烈挑衅意味的漫不经心。最好的演技大概就是用来演一个演技有些差的人吧。但是是什么时候，这种漫不经心，这种刻意消失了？是在电话里说“ask, me, things”的时候？Therese送唱片的地方？还是两人试香水的暧昧桥段？又或是到最后的亲吻？又或者当时霸道的把新相机+胶卷丢在人家家门口的时候，已经不再是游戏了？老实说，我不知道，也许Carol也不知道。对Carol来说，当她明白过来时，才发现不知道哪一刻起，她不再只是单纯的想要调情，她对Therese的宠溺不再只是捕猎前的诱饵，收到礼物时的欣喜，和她一起时的快乐，都是那么真实，而非最初时那般拙劣的演技。但这才是真正的爱情不是吗？爱上就爱上了，又有哪段爱恋可以清楚的列下一二三的呢。而这种从有好感，调戏勾引，到最后的沦陷的过程，被导演，编剧，演员衔接的近乎完美。也就是为什么，这部看似情节简单的电影，却被誉为年度最佳之一。它把爱这种抽象的情绪，用镜头，用简单的日常生活，用眼神，用那些藏在只言片语里没来得及说出口的话，表达的清清楚楚。

然后就要来说，Carol到底多爱Therese。Cate在一个采访中提到的Carol的爱。我觉得总结的非常好。简单来说就是，因为年龄，Carol比Therese更有经验。爱是什么感觉，和同性相爱时什么感觉，这种爱的风险，后果是什么，作为母亲的感情等等，Carol清清楚楚。这些其实都是包袱。相比较而言，Therese就像每一个曾经的我们（这也是为什么我们这么容易在Therese身上找到自己），年轻，没有任何包袱，因为不知道为爱受伤的痛楚，所以可以全力以赴去爱。但是Carol是在背负这些所有的后果，了解了这些所有的得失之后，还是义无反顾的跳了进去。就像两人面前其实都是同样一份爱，而对于Therese，她看到是一条道路，以及道路尽头的Carol。她不知道自己能否触及，于是全力以赴的往前奔跑。而对于Carol，她面对的是一座悬崖，以及悬崖对面的Therese。在爱面前，她甚至失去的选择的能力。奋不顾身是她必然的结果。Carol为这份爱所赌上的是她的所有：家人，孩子，自尊。然而在最后的“I love you" 里。她失去了一切。

Carol本人又是骄傲的，在公开场合，她的头永远是略微向上抬的，导致她在和别人对话时总有种居高临下的姿态。但对于Therese，Carol爱的也许没那么自信。我们曾经玩笑的说，整部片子大概就是由无数个“would you”+ “Yes”组成的。但是你也许没注意到，每次Carol在向Therese提出各种要求或者邀请的时候，她的目光都是向下的，而非直视。这种不自信在两人回到NY后，Carol最后一次约Therese出来时，表现的更加明显。有意思的是，她在发出约会邀请时，那封信的开头依然是那么直截了当的“would you”，但和之前所有的见面，约会不同，这一次她早到了。镜头里的她打完电话，还是那么看似从容高傲的离开电话亭。转身看到正在入座的Therese。座位上Carol的大衣暗示着她早早就到了。所以当时Carol的表情应该是一个大写的“松了一个口气”吧。之后饭桌上对谈的每一个细节大概都是我对这部电影的最爱。但是不跑题，聊回最后一次的“would you”。和之前一样，这一次在她在描述新房子，以及发出邀请时，她眼神统统是往下的。更明显的是，她略微的语无论次，以及怕被人拒绝时最常用的一招，先把自己给拒绝了（I was hoping you might like to come and live with me, but I guess you won't.）。当得到拒绝的答复时，Carol发出了第二个补救的邀请。邀请她参加自己的聚会。而这一段邀请里，我看到的是Carol急促的呼吸声，闪烁的言辞，想微笑却只是微微扯动的嘴角，以及那快要哭出来的眼神。她不是在邀请，而是在绝望的乞求（顺便插一句，比起在律师办公室情绪爆棚的那一幕，这里隐藏在完美无瑕看似若无其事背后的崩塌才是Cate真正秀演技的时候）。当面对沉默时，Carol的那句That's that里，她已经放弃了。所以我不觉得最后那句I love you是为了让Therese重新考虑而增加的筹码，或者在无计可施后抛出的最后一击。这句话之所以这么震耳欲聋是因为，当Carol来见Therese前，她已经放下所有，抛弃了过去的自己（孩子留给了前夫，房子卖了，开始工作），她把所有的底牌都摊在Therese面前，这场赌博，Carol并没有给自己留后路，对Therese的爱是她所有赌注，以及现在的她所唯一拥有的。所以那一句I love you是她在认定自己输了之后，把自己唯一剩下的那份爱，那份赌注，也放下，交给了Therese。也就是为什么Cate不止一次提到说，她觉得，如果Therese没有回心转意，Carol的结局也许会是自杀（虽然理性看来，Carol的人设并不至于会使她走到这步）。因为离开餐桌时的Carol，不管她掩饰的多好（和Jack打招呼以及告别时从容），她是一无所剩的。

Carol最被人诟病的大概就是当初抛下Therese，从而得到“渣攻”的美誉。于是作为强迫症的我，必须要来说下，为什么Carol所做的正如她信里说的那样：她愿意去做任何事来换取Therese的幸福，而她当下她唯一能做的就是放手。当时Carol的选择并不多。我脑洞也不大，感觉比较合理的就下面几种：

1. 无视Harge的威胁。继续和Therese一起。这样结果是直接了当的：立刻失去Rindy，并且不可能有任何缓和的余地。母亲爱自己的孩子是天性。在Therese出现之前，Rindy是她的全部。如果Carol可以头也不回，就这么放弃Rindy的话，我不觉得她有能力好好爱Therese。

2. 一边处理和Harge的官司，一边继续偷偷和Therese一起。也许有些人觉得这是正确的选择，但是不管在哪个年代，在阴影下的爱恋永远是对双方的慢性自杀。这样和把Therese当作见不得人的情妇有什么区别。就像Carol信里说的，Therese还年轻，她的面前有无限可能，Carol若只是为了两人一起，而把这段关系不死不活的拖着，才是真的自私，不顾Therese。

3. 原剧情走向。事发之后，Carol从来没有怪过Therese。而我很喜欢那场Carol在车里安慰Therese的戏。尽管有着无限的温柔。她并没有把Therese当作小孩，或者傻白甜那么哄着。在Carol心里，两人的关系是对等的，所以她不需要用甜言蜜语去平复，只需认真的陈述这事实：“I took what you gave willingly, it's not your fault.” 而在我看来这句话也是很含蓄的告白。你爱我，我全然接受，因为我也爱你。这不是你的错。分离的伤痛对于Carol同样是致命的。而她同时还要面对伤害Therese所带来的负罪感，以及失去女儿后生活的无望。最重要的是，她不像Therese那么年轻，一切可以从头来过。然而，两人关系走到这步，Carol毫无怨言。她爱的很坦荡，哪怕面对律师与前夫，她也绝不把Therese当作一段不堪的过去。而再次出现在Therese面前向她发出邀请的Carol，是一个虽然有些破碎，但是准备好了的Carol。没有藕断丝连的过去，没有恼人的犹豫不决，干净利落把爱摊放在Therese面前。也是这样的爱和坦荡，让我觉得，她配得Therese所有的一往情深，以及每一句的“yes”。

最后，愿所有的Therese都能遇到那个Carol。而如果你有幸是那个Carol的话，也请你可以勇敢温柔对待那个对你一往情深的Therese。

=============================

屁话那么多，结束前还是要感谢所有的主创带来这么精彩的作品。整部作品从原作，编剧，女主，制作人，场景设计，服装设计都是女性，而导演是妇女之友Todd。这样的成果才能让优秀的女性电影有更多的机会。所以与其吵吵嚷嚷着个人奖项，我更希望电影本身可以拿一些BP的奖项，以及Box Office可以有好看的数字（对不起，我就是这么肤浅！和你魔一样，一切朝钱看！！！）

等不到电影，只好先拿小说来解渴。

原著是以作者Patricia Highsmith自己的故事为原型的，她在快30岁时，在纽约Bloomingdale's百货公司的玩具区遇见了一位已婚妇女，并爱上了她。

原著虽是第三人称，但基本是以Therese的视角写的，内心描写很丰富，用词很美，不算艰涩，读起来很流畅，很抓人，不忍释卷。
读的过程中不断带入Cate和Rooney，因此十分有画面感，完全被带入到故事之中，许多描写太细腻，太真实，跟着Therese一起忐忑，也跟着她一起迷醉在Carol的冷漠与温情之间，这些文字，慢慢地在我脑海中拍成电影。

原著中Therese是一个stage designer，但在改编剧本中变成了一个photographer，其实我觉得这样反而更易于表达她作为Carol的暗恋者的角度。
Rooney和Cate绝对是Therese和Carol的不二人选，这点你看了小说就会明白这次的选角有多么完美。

书我还在读，读了大半了，书摘会陆续更，每晚都又期待故事，又不忍读完它，到了该睡的时间还是不情愿放下，不断安慰自己说“好东西值得等待”，才心不甘情不愿地关灯睡下。

即使读原著知道故事的始末，依然不会“剧透”电影，因为我真正期待的不只是故事本身，而是Rooney和Cate的演绎，服装，场景，Todd Haynes怎么营造1950s纽约的复古模样，以及代入感十足的黑胶唱片老歌，而这些都是文字之外的全新创造。

总之，北美上映都要到12月18，有资源的时候估计已经是2016了，只能先来感受原著了。

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附上非官方的原声，听吧，你会沉醉的。
http://pan.baidu.com/s/1bnfMneB
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以下为书摘，按阅读先后顺序

"How do you like it pronounced? Therese?"
"Yes. The way you do," she answered. Carol pronounced her name the French way, Terez. She was used to a dozen variations, and sometimes she herself pronounced it differently. She liked the way Carol pronounced it, and she liked her lips saying it. An indefinite longing, that she had been only vaguely conscious of at times before, became now a recognizable wish. It was so absurd, so embarrassing a desire, that
Therese thrust it from her mind.
----

Therese was propped on one elbow. The milk was so hot, she could barely let her lip touch it at first. The tiny sips spread inside her mouth and released a melange of organic flavors. The milk seemed to taste of bone and blood, of warm flesh, or hair, saltless as chalk yet alive as a growing embryo.
----

"There's a train in about four minutes," Carol said.
 Therese blurted suddenly, "Will I see you again?"
 Carol only smiled at her, a little reproachfully, as the window between them rose up. "Au revoir," she said.
 Of course, of course, she would see her again, Therese thought. An idiotic question!
 The car backed fast and turned away into the darkness.
----

But there was not a moment when she did not see Carol in her mind, and all she saw, she seemed to see through Carol. That evening, the dark flat streets of New York, the tomorrow of work, the milk bottle dropped and broken in her sink, became unimportant. She flung herself on her-bed and drew a line with a pencil on a piece of paper. And another line, carefully, and another. A world was born around her, like a bright forest with a million shimmering leaves.
----

They stopped for a red light, and Carol rolled the window up. Carol looked at her, as if really seeing her for the first time that evening, and under her eyes that went from her face to her hands in her lap, Therese felt like a puppy Carol had bought at a roadside kennel, that Carol had just remembered was riding beside her.
----

Happiness was a little like flying, she thought, like being a kite. It depended on how much one let the string out.
----

       "Are you busy? If you are, I'll leave."
       "No. Sit down. I'm not doing anything—except reading a play."
       "What play?"
       "A play I have to do sets for." She realized suddenly she had never mentioned stage designing to Carol.
       "Sets for?"
       "Yes—I'm a stage designer." She took Carol's coat.
       Carol smiled astonishedly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly. "How many other rabbits are you going to pull out of your hat?"
----

And perhaps she was in love with Carol, too. It put Therese on guard with her. It created a tacit rivalry that gave her a curious exhilaration, a sense of certain superiority over Abby—emotions that Therese had never known before, never dared to dream of, emotions consequently revolutionary in themselves. So their lunching together in the restaurant became nearly as important as the meeting with Carol.

------
• Carol glanced at her. "You imagine," she said, and the pleasant vibration of her voice faded into silence again.
The page she had written last night, Therese thought, had nothing to do with this Carol, was not addressed to her. I feel I am in love with you, she had written, and it should be spring. I want the sun throbbing on my head like chords of music. I think of a sun like Beethoven, a wind like Debussy, and birdcalls like Stravinsky. But the tempo is all mine.
• As if she wouldn't turn down a job on a ballet set to go away with Carol—to go with her through country she had
never seen before, over rivers and mountains, not knowing where they would be when night came.
• Behind Carol, an airport searchlight made a pale sweep in the night, and disappeared. Carol's voice seemed to
linger in the darkness. In its richer, happier tone, Therese could hear the depths within her where she loved Rindy, deeper than she would probably ever love anyone else.
• It shook Therese in the profoundest part of her where no words were, no easy words like death or dying or killing. Those words were somehow future, and this was present. An inarticulate anxiety, a desire to know, know anything, for certain, had jammed itself in her throat so for a moment she felt she could hardly breathe. Do you think, do you think, it began. Do you think both of us will die violently someday, be suddenly shut off? But even that question wasn't definite
enough. Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don't want to die yet without knowing you. Do you feel the same way, Carol? She could have uttered the last question, but she could not have said all that went before it.
• "I suppose the first thing is not to be afraid." Therese turned and saw Carol's smile. "You're smiling because you think I am afraid, I suppose."
 "You're about as weak as this
match." Carol held it burning for a moment after she lighted her cigarette. "But given the right conditions, you could burn a house down, couldn't you?"
 "Or a city."
 "But you're even afraid to take a little trip with me. You're afraid because you think you haven't got enough money."
 "That's not it."
 "You've got some very strange values, Therese. I asked you to go with me, because it would give me pleasure to have you. I should think it'd be good for
you, too, and good for your work. But you've got to spoil it by a silly pride about money. Like that handbag you gave me. Out of all proportion. Why don't you take it back, if you need the money? I don't need the handbag. It gave you pleasure to give it to me, I suppose. It's the same thing, you see. Only I make sense and you don't." Carol walked by her and turned to her again, poised with one foot forward and her head up, the short blond hair as unobtrusive as a statue's hair. "Well, do you think it's funny?"
• Carol went into the green room, and stayed there while it played. Therese stood by the door of her room, listening, smiling.
 ... I'll never regret... the years I'm giving... They're easy to give, when you're in love... I'm happy to do whatever I do for you...
 That was her song. That was everything she felt about Carol.
• Was life, were human relations like this always, Therese wondered. Never solid ground underfoot. Always like gravel, a little yielding, noisy so the whole world could hear, so one always listened, too, for the loud, harsh step of the intruder's foot.
• Therese still felt the effects of what she had drunk, the tingling of the champagne that drew her painfully close to Carol. If she simply asked, she thought, Carol would let her sleep tonight in the same bed with her. She wanted more than that, to kiss her, to feel their bodies next to each other's. Therese thought of the two girls she had seen in the Palermo bar. They did that, she knew, and more. And would Carol suddenly thrust her away in disgust, if she merely wanted to hold her in her arms? And would whatever affection Carol now had for her vanish in that instant? A vision of Carol's cold rebuff swept her courage clean away. It crept back humbly in the question, couldn't she ask simply to sleep in the same bed with her?
• She rode up in an elevator and she was acutely conscious of Carol beside her, as if she dreamed a dream in which Carol was the subject and the only figure. In the room, she lifted her suitcase from the floor to a chair, unlatched it and left it, and stood by the writing table, watching Carol. As if her emotions had been in abeyance all the past hours, or days, they flooded her now as she watched Carol opening her suitcase, taking out, as she always did first, the leather kit that contained her toilet articles, dropping it onto the bed. She looked at Carol's hands, at the lock of hair that fell over the scarf tied around her head, at the scratch she had gotten days ago across the toe of her moccasin.
 "What're you standing there for?" Carol asked. "Get to bed, sleepyhead."
 "Carol, I love you."
 Carol straightened up. Therese stared at her with intense, sleepy eyes.
• Then Carol finished taking her pajamas from the suitcase and pulled the lid down. She came to Therese and put her hands on her shoulders. She squeezed her shoulders hard, as if she were exacting a promise from her, or perhaps searching her to see if what she had said were real. Then she kissed Therese on the lips, as if they had kissed a thousand times before.
 "Don't you know I love you?" Carol said.
• Then Therese set the container of milk on the floor and looked at Carol who was sleeping already, on her stomach, with one arm flung up as she always went to sleep. Therese pulled out the light. Then Carol slipped her arm under her neck, and all the length of their bodies touched, fitting as if something had prearranged it. Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh. She had a vision of a pale-white flower, shimmering as if seen in darkness, or through water. Why did people talk of heaven, she wondered.
• "Go to sleep," Carol said.
 Therese hoped she would not. But when she felt Carol's hand move on her shoulder, she knew she had been asleep. It was dawn now. Carol's fingers tightened in her hair, Carol kissed her on the lips, and pleasure leaped in Therese again as if it were only a continuation of the moment when Carol had slipped her arm under her neck last night. I love you, Therese wanted to say again, and then the words were erased by the tingling and terrifying pleasure that spread in waves from Carol's lips over her neck, her shoulders, that rushed suddenly, the length of her body. Her arms were tight around Carol, and she was conscious of Carol and
nothing else, of Carol's hand that slid along her ribs, Carol's hair that brushed her bare breasts, and then her body too seemed to vanish in widening circles that leaped further and further, beyond where thought could follow. While a thousand memories and moments, words, the first darling, the second time Carol had met her at the store, a thousand memories of Carol's face, her voice, moments of anger and laughter flashed like the tail of a comet across her brain. And now it was pale-blue distance and space, an expanding space in which she took flight suddenly like a long arrow. The arrow seemed to cross an impossibly wide abyss with ease, seemed to arc on and on in space, and not quite to stop. Then she realized that she still clung to Carol, that she trembled violently, and the arrow was herself. She saw Carol's pale hair across her eyes, and now Carol's head was close against hers. And she did not have to ask if this were right, no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect.
• "Go to sleep," Carol said.
 Therese hoped she would not. But when she felt Carol's hand move on her shoulder, she knew she had been asleep. It was dawn now. Carol's fingers tightened in her hair, Carol kissed her on the lips, and pleasure leaped in Therese again as if it were only a continuation of the moment when Carol had slipped her arm under her neck last night. I love you, Therese wanted to say again, and then the words were erased by the tingling and terrifying pleasure that spread in waves from Carol's lips over her neck, her shoulders, that rushed suddenly, the length of her body. Her arms were tight around Carol, and she was conscious of Carol and nothing else, of Carol's hand that slid along her ribs, Carol's hair that brushed her bare breasts, and then her body too seemed to vanish in widening circles that leaped further and further, beyond where thought could follow. While a thousand memories and moments, words, the first darling, the second time Carol had met her at the store, a thousand memories of Carol's face, her voice, moments of anger and laughter flashed like the tail of a comet across her brain. And now it was pale-blue distance and space, an expanding space in which she took flight suddenly like a long arrow. The arrow seemed to cross an impossibly wide abyss with ease, seemed to arc on and on in space, and not quite to stop. Then she realized that she still clung to Carol, that she trembled violently, and the arrow was herself. She saw Carol's pale hair across her eyes, and now Carol's head was close against hers. And she did not have to ask if this were right, no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect. She held Carol tighter against her, and felt Carol's mouth on her own smiling mouth. Therese lay still, looking at her at Carol's face only inches away from her, the gray eyes calm as she had never seen them, as if they retained some of the space she had just emerged from. And it seemed strange that it was still Carol's face, with the freckles, the bending blond eyebrow that she knew, the mouth now as calm as her eyes, as Therese had seen it many times before.
• "My angel," Carol said. "Flung out of space."
 Therese looked up at the corners of the room that were much brighter now, at the bureau with the bulging front and the shield-shaped drawer pulls, at the frameless mirror with the beveled edge, at the green patterned curtains that hung straight at the windows, and the two gray tips of buildings that showed just above the sill. She would remember every detail of this room forever.
 "What town is this?" she asked.
 Carol laughed. "This? This is Waterloo." She reached for a cigarette.
 "Isn't that awful."
 Smiling, Therese raised up on her elbow. Carol put a cigarette between her lips. "There's a couple of Waterloos in every state," Therese said.
• Therese threw the newspapers on the bed and came to her. Carol seized her suddenly in her arms. They stood holding each other as if they would never separate. Therese shuddered, and there were tears in her eyes. It was hard to find words, locked in Carol's arms, closer than kissing.
 "Why did you wait so long?" Therese asked.
 "Because—I thought there wouldn't be a second time, that I wouldn't want it. But that's not true."
 Therese thought of Abby, and it was like a slim shaft of bitterness dropping between them. Carol released her.
 "And there was something else—to have you around reminding me, knowing you and knowing it would be so easy. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair to you."
 Therese set her teeth hard. She watched Carol walk slowly away across the room, watched the space widen, and remembered the first time she had seen her walk so slowly away in the department store, Therese had thought forever. Carol had loved Abby, too, and she reproached herself for it. As Carol would one day for loving her, Therese wondered? Therese understood now why the December and January weeks had been made up of anger and indecision, reprimands alternating with indulgences. But she understood now that whatever Carol said in words, there were no barriers and no indecisions now. There was no Abby, either, after this morning, whatever had happened between Carol and Abby before.
• "You've made me so happy ever since I've known you,"
Therese said.
 "I don't think you can judge."
 "I can judge this morning."
 Carol did not answer. Only the rasp of the door lock answered her. Carol had locked the door and they were alone. Therese came toward her, straight into her arms.
 "I love you," Therese said, just to hear the words. "I love you, I love you."
• She looked at Therese, and at last Therese saw a smile rising slowly in her eyes, bringing Carol with it. "I
mean responsibilities in the world that other people live in and that might not be yours. Just now it isn't, and that's why in New York I was exactly the wrong person for you to know—because I indulge you and keep you from growing up."
 "Why don't you stop?"
 "I'll try. The trouble is, I like to indulge you."
 "You're exactly the right person for me to know," Therese said.
 "Am I?"
 On the street, Therese said, "I don't suppose Harge would like it if he knew we were away on a trip, either, would he?"
 "He's not going to know about it."
 "Do you still want to go to Washington?"
 "Absolutely, if you've got the time. Can you stay away all of February?"
 Therese nodded.
• "Do you mean that about not writing to him? That's your decision?" Carol asked.
• "Yes."
 Therese watched Carol knock the water out of her toothbrush, and turn from the basin, blotting her face with a towel. Nothing about Richard mattered so much to her as the way Carol blotted her face with a towel.
 "Let's say no more," Carol said.
 She knew Carol would say no more. She knew Carol had been pushing her toward him, until this moment. Now it seemed it might all have been for this moment as Carol turned and walked toward her and her heart took a giant's step forward.
• It was an evening Therese would never forget, and unlike most such evenings, this one registered as unforgettable while it still lived. It was a matter of the bag of popcorn they shared, the circus, and the kiss Carol gave her back of some booth in the performers' tent. It was a matter of that particular enchantment that came from Carol—though Carol took their good times so for granted—seemed to work on all the world around them, a matter of everything going perfectly, without disappointments or hitches, going just as they wished it to.
• "What's going to happen when we get back to New York? It can't be the same, can it?"
 "Yes," Carol said. "Till you get tired of me."
 Therese laughed. She heard the soft snap of Carol's scarf end in the wind.
 "We might not be living together, but it'll be the same."
 They couldn't live together with Rindy, Therese knew. It was useless to dream of it. But it was more than enough that Carol promised in words it would be the same.
• Carol picked up her wine glass and said, "Chateau Neuf-du-Pape in Nebraska. What'll we drink to?"
 "Us."
 It was something like the morning in Waterloo, Therese thought, a time too absolute and flawless to seem real, though it was real, not merely props in a play—their brandy glasses on the mantel, the row of deers' horns above, Carol's cigarette lighter, the fire itself. But at moments she felt like an actor, remembered only now and then her identity with a sense of surprise, as if she had been playing in these last days the part of someone else, someone
fabulously and excessively lucky. She looked up at the fir branches fixed in the rafters, at the man and woman talking inaudibly together at a table against the wall, at the man alone at his table, smoking his cigarette slowly. She thought of the man sitting with the newspaper in the hotel in Waterloo. Didn't he have the same colorless eyes and the long creases on either side of his mouth? Or was it only that this moment of consciousness was so much the same as that other moment?
 They spent the night in Lusk, ninety miles away.
• Carol wanted her with her, and whatever happened they would meet it without running. How was it possible to be afraid and in love, Therese thought. The two things did not go together.
How was it possible to be afraid, when the two of them grew stronger together every day? And every night. Every night was different, and every morning. Together they possessed a miracle.
• But there were other days when they drove out into the mountains alone, taking any road they saw. Once they came upon a little town they liked and spent the night there, without pajamas or toothbrushes, without past or future, and the night became another of those islands in time, suspended somewhere in the heart or in the memory, intact and absolute.
• Carol went into the bathroom arid turned on the shower.
 Therese came in after her. "I thought I was using this John."
 "I'm using it, but I'll let you come in."
 "Oh, thanks." Therese took off her robe as Carol did.
 "Well?" Carol said.
 "Well?" Therese stepped under the shower.
 "Of all the nerve." Carol got under it, too, and twisted Therese's arm behind her, but Therese only giggled.
 Therese wanted to embrace her, kiss her, but her free arm reached out convulsively and dragged Carol's head
against her, under the stream of water, and there was the horrible sound of a foot slipping.
 "Stop it, we'll fall!" Carol shouted. "For Christ's sake, can't two people take a shower in peace?"
• Carol wanted to know everything she had done, how the roads were, and whether she had on the yellow pajamas or the blue ones. "I'll have a hard time getting to sleep tonight without you."
 "Yes." Immediately, out of nowhere, Therese felt tears pressing behind her eyes.
 "Can't you say anything but yes?"
 "I love you.
• "Carol does?" Dutch said, turning to her as he polished a lass.
 Then a strange resentment rose in Therese because he had said her name, and she made a resolution not to speak of Carol again at all, not to anyone in the city.
• She wrote to Carol late that night.
 The news is wonderful. I celebrated with a single daiquiri at the Warrior. Not that I am conservative, but did you know that one drink has the kick of three when you are alone?... I love this town because it all reminds me of you. I know you don't like it any more than any other town, but that isn't the point. I mean you are here as much as I can bear you to be, not being here...
• In the library, she looked at books with photographs of Europe in
them, marble fountains in Sicily, ruins of Greece in sunlight, and she wondered if she and Carol would really ever go there. There was still so much they had not done. There was the first voyage across the Atlantic. There were simply the mornings, mornings anywhere, when she could lift her head from a pillow and see Carol's face, and know that the day was theirs and that nothing would separate them.
• They were happy weeks—you knew it more than I did. Though all we have known is only a beginning. I meant to try to tell you in this letter that you don't even know the rest and perhaps you never will and are not supposed to—meaning destined to. We never fought, never came back knowing there was nothing else we wanted in heaven or hell but to be together. Did you ever care for me that much, I don't know. But that is all part of it and all we have known is only a beginning. And it has been such a short time.
• You say you love me however I am and when I curse. I say I love you always, the person you are and the person you will become. I would say it in a court if it would mean anything to those people or possibly change anything, because those are not the words I am afraid of.
• And she remembered Carol saying, I like to see you walking. When I see you from a distance, I feel you're walking on the palm of my hand and you're about five inches high. She could hear Carol's soft voice under the babble of the wind, and she grew tense, with bitterness and fear. She walked faster, ran a few steps, as if she could run out of that morass of love and hate and resentment in which her mind suddenly floundered.
• Something Carol had said once came suddenly to her mind: every adult has secrets. Said as casually as Carol said everything, stamped as indelibly in her brain as the address she had written on the sales slip in Frankenberg's. She had an impulse to tell Dannie the rest, about the picture in the library, the picture in
the school. And about the Carol who was not a picture, but a woman with a child and a husband, with freckles on her hands and a habit of cursing, of growing melancholy at unexpected moments, with a bad habit of indulging her will. A woman who had endured much more in New York than she had in South Dakota. She looked at Dannie's eyes, at his chin with the faint cleft. She knew that up to now she had been under a spell that prevented her from seeing anyone in the world but Carol.
• Once that had been impossible, and had been what she wanted most in the world. To live with her and share everything with her, summer and winter, to walk and read together, to travel together. And she remembered the days of resenting Carol, when she had imagined Carol asking her this, and herself answering no.
 "Would you?" Carol looked at her.
 Therese felt she balanced on a thin edge. The resentment was gone now.
 Nothing but the decision remained now, a thin line suspended in the air, with nothing on either side to push her or pull her. But on the one side, Carol, and on the other an empty question mark. On the one side, Carol, and it would be different now, because they were both different. It would be a world as unknown as the world just past had been when she first entered it. Only now, there were no obstacles. Therese thought of Carol's perfume that today meant nothing. A blank to be filled in, Carol would say.
• The lights were not bright, and she did not see her at first, half hidden in the shadow against the far wall, facing her. Nor did Carol see her. A man sat opposite her, Therese did not know who. Carol raised her hand slowly and brushed her hair back, once on either side, and Therese smiled because the gesture was Carol, and it was Carol she loved and would always love. Oh, in a different way now, because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was still Carol and no one else. It would be Carol, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell. Therese waited. Then as she was
about to go to her Carol saw her, seemed to stare at her incredulously a moment while Therese watched the slow smile growing, before her arm lifted suddenly, her hand waved a quick, eager greeting that Therese had never seen before. Therese walked toward her.
 
The End



-----已读完-------

这是一篇迟到了3个多月的观后感。即使那时所能看到的还只是枪版渣画质，《卡罗尔》一样轻松从第一个跟拍的长镜头就击中我。当它描绘了爱，就有爱。接下来的三个月，等着蓝光版的同时一遍遍循环原声，看完了原著小说。

它是会被一直放在心里惦记着的电影，是一小块柔软。就好像一月初的时候有天一个人走在热带午后的阳光下，《Opening》的提琴声又响起，瞬间清凉静默，揪心感堪比《Summer Palace》里的《Solo Por Tu Amor》，都是面对时屏息凝气的河流。听着它，只想要弯腰蹲下。

若说它是部缠绵悱恻的电影，不如说无疑更近乎艺术上的灵感。它伸出温柔的手揪住你的心，用嘴唇碰着耳垂低语，它与你无条件的亲密。

这是一个旁若无人的故事，其他角色都被淡去（即使在原著小说中有着完整的表述），只有两个人的深深凝视。看了几遍，始终觉得存在着一个 什么 ，却没法说出。直到想起村上春树的《斯普特尼克恋人》才明白。

在《卡罗尔》里，作为观众的我一直为“自己“的缺失而稍觉遗憾。这段感情太完美，细节和角色都丰富到不再有可补充的想象空间，甚至容不下观众自然而然的代入感。应该存在一个第三人的视角，亲密又观望这两人的视角，让由眼神和温度组成的密度爱情有梯可攀，成为固体的现实效用。

斯普特尼克，村上君说它在俄语里是 traveling companion 的意思——‘旅伴’。孤独的炽烈的卫星旅伴。同样讲年轻女孩对年长女人的爱恋，暮色中摇曳着及膝白裙走下石阶的敏，与目光如炬优雅魅惑的卡罗尔。苦于写不出作品的写作者堇与不会拍人像的摄影师特芮丝。相同的旅行经历与相似的错失。村上的清爽与托德·海因斯的粘稠，长茎植物与阴雨天气。

《斯普特尼克恋人》中第一人称的“我”，正是这样的存在。对堇怀有深深的爱恋，确认因为她而扩展了所属世界的外沿，被她所信赖，却不对作为男性的“我”怀有兴趣。“我”是堇与敏感情的唯一知情者，甚至比两人还要知晓其中含蕴。（当然也是小说心理描述的主要依托者）。因为有“我”这一完整的形象，《斯普特尼克恋人》得以从另一较为冷静视角叙事，“我”是读者进入作品时的栖身之所，也是所能到达的最近距离。于是那时看完小说我说：“觉得自己偶尔是堇，更多时候是’我’，但从来不是敏。”

也是因为有了《斯普特尼克恋人》文字的准确描写，才可以将《卡罗尔》中的情感成字成句。甚至，这样的对比较电影改编与原著小说的对比更加有趣。因为它不仅仅是情节对照，更多是情绪共鸣。

初次约会吃饭，特芮丝要服务生照着卡罗尔点的餐给自己也上一份。堇也是如此，学敏的样子拿起酒杯小心翼翼啜一口葡萄酒。

卡罗尔对特芮丝说：“What a strange girl you are, flung out of space. ”堇对敏说：“这以前，我一次也没考虑过要成为自己以外的什么人。但现在有时很想成为你那样的人。”

《斯普特尼克恋人》里讲“我”质疑堇对敏的感情：

我开口道：“你在敏身上感觉到的是性欲这点不会有错？” “百分之百没错。”堇说，“一到她面前，耳朵里的骨头就咔咔作响，像用薄贝壳做的风铃。而且有一股想被她紧紧搂抱的欲望，想把一切都交付给她。如果说这不是性欲的话， 我血管里流淌的就是番茄汁。”

以此再看特芮丝的从不拒绝和抿着嘴的坚定神情，便总在幻想她此时耳朵里的声音。

还有一处，原著里写到特芮丝意识到自己的变化。变胖了一些，但是脸庞越来越小，，她感到高兴，为自己越来越成熟。村上的写法是：

“最近的你，一次见面一个样，越来越难认了。”我说。
  “正赶上那种时期。”她用吸管吸着果汁，像说与己无关的事。

女王自不必说，每一个细节都性感得让人动弹不得（尤其是对妹子们来说），鲁妮·玛拉的表演也有着文学性的优美。在副驾偷偷打量卡罗尔时眼中的惊喜，对坐要给卡罗尔拍照时边撒娇边不自觉的一跃，卡罗尔走后下车奔向路边呕吐。还有每一个痴迷的眼神。

不得不说到两个人的床戏，看时全部的观感都是感动。唯如此，这段感情才是完整的。村上这样写堇与敏：

敏不知如何回答，正犹豫着，堇已伸出手，握住她的手。手心也有汗感。手暖融融软乎乎的。随后，堇双手拢住敏的背，乳房贴在敏腹部偏上一点儿的位置，脸颊放在敏双乳之间。两人长时间以如此姿势躺着。这工夫，堇的身体开始微微颤抖。敏以为堇要哭，但似乎哭不出。她把手绕到堇肩上，搂近一些。还是孩子，敏心想，又孤单又害怕，渴望别人的温存，像紧紧趴在松树枝上的小猫一样。
堇把身体往上蹭了蹭，鼻尖触在敏脖颈上。两人乳房相碰。敏咽下口腔里的唾液。堇的手在她背部摸来摸去。
“喜欢你。”堇小声细气地说。
“我也喜欢你的。”敏说。此外她不晓得怎么说好，而且这也是实话。

与卡罗尔所说的“My angel, flung out of space. ”功效完全一致。

村上容易写情感的退潮或者说是冷静，每当这时，故事就退居到迫切想同自己的汹涌欲望单独相守的“我”。在对琐事的不厌其烦的细致描写中完成自我建设。即使有时结论仍是“我是多么的需要堇。”这在《卡罗尔》里面被表现得很淡。托德·海因斯的情感退潮，是隔着玻璃、镜头、人群、画外等介质，脱离空间存在感的疏离。此时的特芮丝更像经过了一场高烧后的清醒。

不管是在新的一天起身归拢这颗以孤独为养料运转的行星的残片，还是特芮丝脚步踉跄的穿过人群走向卡罗尔。就算哪里也抵达不了，凝视也可以终身陪伴。