打开心世界

阿比盖尔很孤独。

她的孤独不是因为失去女儿——悲伤顶多只是加深了这种孤独。她的孤独源自于无人能懂，源自于与众不同。但她也不是一个激进抗争的人，她只是在一日一日看似认命的平静生活中暗淡疏离。她的心不为什么而跳动，她只是活着，尽一个妻子的责任，和周围人一样的生活，重复和上一辈一样的生活。

然而塔利出现了，这是阿比盖尔生命里的光。她无法抗拒这种吸引，她假装不在意但其实无比煎熬的等待着塔利的来访。她的脸上出现笑容了，她的心开始生机勃勃的跳动了。

而对塔利而言，阿比盖尔的吸引力也是毋庸置疑，不然她不会一次次来访，不会控制不住向对方坦露心迹。这一段真是好甜啊。多好啊，我爱的你，正好也爱着我呢～

可是爱有多深，喜悦有多强，最后的永诀就有多伤。

阿比盖尔抱着塔利发出绝望的嘶喊，过往所有的水乳交融欢愉爱意一幕幕从眼前掠过。她的爱。她的光。她人生的希望。从此天人永隔。爱过再失去，是人间至痛。我忍不住想，将来的人生，阿比盖尔要怎么活下去呢？失去所爱是心脏上开了一个填不满的黑洞，往后余生，她还如何能退回到死水一样的生活？还是说，要靠着咀嚼回忆，来应对苍白的未来？

无论哪一种，都太痛太痛了。

女人无法主宰自己的命运真是太糟糕的事。塔利这样性格，在芬尼这样的男人手里陨落几乎是一种必然。他们糟糕到透顶的婚姻要么会毁掉塔利的灵魂，要么就是她的性命。我甚至庆幸，还好她还曾拥有过和阿比盖尔的美好爱情。

我只希望时间可以愈合伤口，至少让时间能够稀释痛苦。

Tuesday, January 1st, 1856.

Fair and very cold.

This morning,

ice in our bedroom for the first time all winter.

The water froze on the potatoes

as soon as they were washed.

With little pride, and less hope,

we begin the new year.

On the porch after sunup,

I could hear the low chirping of sparrows

in the hedgerows that are now buried in the snow.

Dyer has maintained that with good health,

and a level head,

there is always an excellent chance

for a farmer willing to work.

He feels he can never fully rid himself of his burdens.

And I'm certain that because his mind is in such a bad state,

it affects his whole system.

He told me this morning

that contentment was like a friend he never gets to see.

You're late with the milking.

She wasn't suffering.

And you?

Since our acquisition of this farm,

my husband had kept a ledger to help him see the year whole.

This way he knows what each crop

and field pays from year to year.

And Dyer has asked me to keep a diary of matters

that might otherwise go overlooked...

From tools lent out to bills outstanding.

That I have done.

But there would be no record in these dull and simple pages

of the most passionate circumstances

of our seasons past.

No record of our emotions or fears.

Our greatest joys.

Our most piercing sorrows.

With our child,

it was as if I'd found my bearings.

But I too rarely told her that she was our treasure.

Would you like to try?

Like this, papa?

That's it.

She often seemed separate from us,

as if she was working at just fitting in where she could.

They saw his brothers and sisters

and they were the mouse's family...

There is something so affecting

about mute and motionless grief and illness

in a child so young.

She put her arms around me and said nothing else.

But it felt like we were speaking.

I have become my grief.

I have become my grief.

"Welcome sweet day of rest",

says the hymn.

And Sunday is most welcome for its few hours of quiet ease.

As for me.

I no longer attend.

After the calamity of Nellie's loss,

what calm I enjoy

does not derive from the notion of a better world to come.

I want to purchase an atlas.

- It could be a bother. - No, no. No bother.

Who is that?

His name is Finney.

- His wife Tallie. - Hyah!

I met them at the feed store.

They seem to keep to themselves.

They're renting the Zebrun farm.

Monday, February 4th.

Why is ink like fire?

Because it is a good servant,

and a hard master.

Did you say something?

I want to purchase an atlas.

I suppose there are more frivolous purchases

one could make.

I've saved 90 cents of my own.

I can't imagine a better way to spend it.

Could buy your husband a gift.

What better gift could I give him

than a wife who is no longer a dullard?

My self-education

seems the only way to keep my unhappiness

from overwhelming me.

Good afternoon.

I've been using a broom on my porch.

The snow is so dry.

I'm Tallie.

Abigail.

I hope I'm not intruding.

No.

I just, I needed to get away for the day.

The farm is a slaughterhouse right now.

My husband is killing his hogs.

Would you like to come in?

Yes, I'd love that.

Or we could just stay out on the porch, shivering.

I know it's the dullest of all things

to have an ignorant neighbor come by

and spoil a Sunday afternoon.

Oh, no, you're the most welcome here.

But I know the feeling.

Sometimes, I imagine during the Widow Weldon's visits

that I've been plunged up to my eyes in a vat of the prosaic.

Oh, Widow Weldon!

She got going on the county levy once...

She saw I had noticed her hair,

and admitted she had been vain about it as a girl.

She said that back then, she'd worn it longer

and plaited in a bun at the back of her head.

In the winter sun through the window,

her skin had an underflush of rose and violet

which so disconcerted me that I had to look away.

As always,

when it came to speaking

and attempting to engage another's affections,

circumstances doomed me to striving and anxiety.

From my earliest youth, I was like a pot-bound root,

all curled in upon itself.

I hope I'm not keeping you from something.

No.

I'm glad you've come.

Finney saw your husband at the cooperage.

He mentioned his new method for farrowing his piglets.

With some asperity?

My husband mentions everything with some asperity.

I told him that once,

and...

he observed in response that it seemed to be quite a favor

to get a kind word from me.

And I told him that if he was married to himself,

he'd soon find out what a favor it was.

My mother always said that having children

would resolve that dilemma.

My mother made the same claim.

And yet...

Here we are...

Both childless.

My daughter, Nellie, would have been five today.

Oh.

How did she pass?

Diphtheria.

Last September.

I'm so sorry.

- Hello. - Oh.

Good afternoon.

I'm Dyer.

Tallie.

Oh, it's late, isn't it? I should be getting on.

Don't go on my account.

Oh, no.

That's a nice wrap you have.

Thank you.

I never receive compliments for my clothes.

I'm so glad you've come.

Meeting you has made my day.

It has?

Well...

How pleasant and uncommon it is to make someone's day.

Thursday, February 14th.

Dyer's third night with the fever.

Drink this.

I plan on getting sick more often.

My wife smiles at me.

Promise me you're not gonna die.

That would be the opposite of my intention.

I've restored him somewhat

with an enema of molasses,

warm water and lard.

Also a drop of turpentine next to his nose.

I spent the day reconsidering my conversation with Tallie.

We compared childhood beds...

Mine in which the straw

was always breaking up and thinning out.

And hers, which was as hard, she claimed,

as the Pharaoh's heart.

I should be taking care of you.

I agree.

Her manner is sweet and calm and gracious.

And yet her spirits seem to quicken

at the prospect of further conversation with me.

I find that everything I wish to tell her

loses its eloquence in her presence.

So how did you come to meet Dyer?

He was the oldest son of a neighbor.

He helped out on my father's farm.

And was he instantly smitten by you?

He was, wasn't he?

He was instantly smitten by you.

He admired what he viewed as my practical good sense.

You don't countenance words like "smitten", do you?

I suspect I use all the same words you do.

I suspect you don't.

In speech, yes, because you're shy.

But I bet you're more accomplished in your writing.

Thank you.

Your good sense, that's all your husband was smitten with?

And my efficient habits.

That's all?

My handy ways.

Dyer likes mechanical things.

I have no doubt he would've been happier

had he been allowed to pursue

the natural scientific bent of his mind.

Circumstances forced him into farming.

And despite all of that, his heart compelled him to you?

Well...

You would have to ask him about that.

And what would you say if I asked you?

I suppose that as a suitor, he was...

not generous, but he was just.

And that he was affectionate, if not constant.

I wasn't sure of his suitability.

But my family felt that more improving

might be in the offing.

After all, it is a long lane that has no turning.

You both have much to be thankful for.

We do.

It's still too soon.

Sorry.

Tuesday, February 19th.

My reluctance seems to have become his shame.

His nighttime pleasures, which were never numerous,

have curtailed even more.

And I have so far refused to engage his persistence

on the subject of another child.

Evening.

This is my husband Finney.

And you already know Dyer.

Our paths have crossed.

And this is the Abigail that I've been mentioning.

My wife talks about you as if you're all about the house,

and everything reminds her of you.

Oh, well, it's all I can do but sit cross-legged and morose

whenever she's away.

- Come in. - Thank you.

The rain so heavy that it broke down our mill.

Did you miss me?

Yes.

You look different.

No...

Finney seems agreeable.

Yes, he is, when he chooses to be.

I guess I'm supposed to offer a toast.

But when it comes to the social graces,

I'm about as smooth as coming down a rocky hill in the dark.

What my husband means is he's so happy

to finally get together,

and to see Dyer again.

Cheers.

Part of what I value about my wife

is how she taught me to associate with my fellow beings.

Finney, that's a handsome neck tie you've chosen.

Thank you.

But with my neck,

my head sticks out like a chicken in a poultry wagon.

Your tart was wonderfully savory.

Oh, did you like it? I'm so glad.

I was worried I wouldn't have enough eggs

- because we had an accident. - Oh.

My hired hand pulled down a box of eggs and broke two dozen.

I announced that he was unlucky to eggs

and no longer allowed to approach them.

"Unlucky to eggs." I like that.

I told him that his shirt had so many holes,

he can make a necklace of it.

Well, we often wish we could afford a hired hand.

We've suffered a great deal from the carelessness of hired hands.

Mr. Holt's hired hand is said to have swum his horse

over the canal despite the cold.

Really?

Yes.

Winter's been so hard,

sometimes Mrs. Weldon's son

has had to deliver the mail on skis.

Now our letters can get lost at breakneck speed.

Did you write letters to Tallie when you were courting?

I did.

And did Tallie keep them?

Only Tallie knows for sure.

Monday, February 25th.

Finney and Tallie's bond confounds me.

At times, when their eyes meet,

they seem yoked in opposition to one another,

while at other times, there seems a shared regard.

There is something going on between us

that I cannot unravel.

Hold this here.

Okay.

Thank you.

Hello, Dyer.

Well, hello.

You're off?

Yes, to town.

Have a good day.

She'll be pleased to see you.

Happy birthday!

Brought you some things.

Hand-knitted?

I hoped you'd like them.

I do.

An Atlas!

The United States of America.

Oh and a little pot of apple sauce with an egg on top.

My feet are freezing.

Oh, let me warm them.

How's Finney?

He's Finney.

Ah, it tickles.

My husband records trespassers in his journals.

And this morning, when I asked him

what he intends to do about them,

his response was so unpleasant that I...

resolved to visit you...

so that there would be something in my day

other than his meanness.

Dyer thinks he has many estimable qualities.

He does.

And he also uses a ledger to keep accounting of whom I visit

and how long I stay.

Why?

I have no idea.

As he's gotten more like this,

I've given up trying to figure out

all the peculiarities of his...

odd little world.

I suppose he's especially unhappy with me since...

I'm yet to give him a child.

What does it feel like?

Like nothing at first.

But then when she began to stir...

it's like butterflies flapping their wings.

Later, like a rabbit...

when she kicked her legs at night.

It frightens me.

The thought of having none of that.

And of giving birth.

Most of us feel that way.

But...

when the time comes, I will be there...

to guide you through it.

Dyer must want another child.

I understand.

Birthday gifts.

A box of raisins.

That needle case you've been needing.

And a tin of sardines.

You spoil me.

Oh, you got gifts from your new friend.

She left hours ago.

I just saw her leave.

The great storm began

with a faint groaning in the northeast.

It was like a noise of a locomotive.

Help!

Come closer, girl.

It's warmer over here.

I'm sorry, I'll be going.

You should wait it out.

Come on, mare.

Dyer!

Dyer!

Dyer!

How long would it be before I receive word of Tallie?

How long could I wait?

How long will the feed in the barn last?

Each cow eats 26 pounds of forage every day.

You should know that.

They start to skinny down after three days.

Heard the newspaper predicts the storm'll let up by then.

But that's probably based on

an expert's consultation of a goose bone.

"In a real crisis of nature, we're all at another's mercy."

Yes.

My mother liked to say,

"We tumble from one mortification to another."

When I was seven, an earthquake knocked down our house and barn.

Did I tell you?

Never.

- An earthquake? - Yes.

I remember something woke me before dawn.

I don't know what.

My father was calling out.

But I couldn't tear myself away from the window.

I saw birds fluttering in the air, afraid to set down.

The river was roiling, and I couldn't move.

And then...

Finally, I jumped down to our collapsed stairwell,

as all my brothers had done before me.

And we all huddled together in the dark on the porch.

Later, my mother said

that the dread never fully went away after that.

She said, "What was safe if the solid earth could do that?"

Mother.

Tallie! You're frozen!

Tallie! Stay awake! Stay awake!

Open your eyes! Open your eyes!

Keep your eyes open!

Keep your eyes open!

Look at me.

I would die without you.

Then you're safe.

Because I am here.

Monday, March 17th.

Half the chickens are lost.

I dug ice and snow from their dead open mouths

in an attempt to revive them.

Hobnails...

For better traction.

The Widow Weldon's son, on his rounds,

reported that Tallie had gotten home safely,

with, he thought, only a bit of frostbite.

We haven't seen your friend down the lane for a while.

Finney took her to Oneonta.

So everything is tedious and lonesome?

Thursday, April 10th.

Biscuits and dried mackerel for breakfast.

Dyer has augmented the padding in the cattle pens

with his hoardings of maple leaves and old straw.

It always seems that Tallie will never appear.

But I remind myself that time and the needle wear

through the longest morning.

And I have noted that when she does arrive,

my heart is like a leaf borne over a rock

by rapidly moving water.

Hello. Oh!

Oh! Careful.

Stay. Sit, sit.

Saturday, April 12th.

- I spent the last two days... - Very damp, cloudy and cool.

Smoky.

Perhaps the forest is somewhere on fire.

Your nose is being gracious.

Monday, April 14th.

A terribly bad spring so far,

but the clover has come up through it,

and is all right.

And how's Finney?

The soul of patience.

He's mentioning again the idea of migrating west.

You're planning on moving west?

Perhaps.

I had an uncle who moved to Ohio and came to a desperate end.

Which is what one might expect from Ohio.

- Tomorrow? - Hm.

Thursday, April 17th.

Rain in torrents nearly all night.

The lane is flooded and the ditches brim full.

This morning, only a slight shower.

Tallie came later than her usual time today.

She offered no explanation.

I'm sorry that your childhood was anything less than joyous.

Joyous it was not.

But I made my own happinesses.

My husband says, "God puts heavy stones in your path,

it's up to us to step over them."

Stones are what the fortunate receive.

My mother's mother was born in 1780

right here in Schoharie County.

I often wonder at the courage

and the resourcefulness of those women.

Imagine faring forth into a wilderness,

hoping to build the foundations of a home.

Maybe they had a certain high hopefulness that we don't have.

When can you come?

Tuesday.

- Hello, Tallie! - Good day.

Was your afternoon gladsome?

Yes, it was, very.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

I felt,

looking at her expression,

as if she were in full sail on a flood tide,

while I bobbed along down backwards.

And yet,

I never say on her countenance the indifference

of fortunate towards the less fortunate.

Good day.

Good day.

Are you sick, too?

Not at all.

I was hoping to compare colds.

I'll make you tea and honey?

What?

Every morning I wake up

and I think that I never want to be far from you.

And under your influence, since you're so good with words,

I've composed a poem.

It's entitled...

"Oh, Sick and Miserable Heart, Be Still."

When I was a little girl,

I thought I could cultivate my intellect

and do something for the world.

But my life has surprised me by being far more ordinary.

You're talking about that moment

that I have dreamed about, when we're carried in triumph

for having done something wonderful or received at home

with tears and shouts of joy.

Do you know what I wonder?

Is it possible...

that such a moment hasn't yet come for either of us?

I think it has.

Or that it could.

You do.

So what do you think?

What do you think about us?

I don't know how to put it into words.

Well, try.

- I have tried. - Well, try again.

What do you imagine?

I imagine that I love

how our encircling feelings leave nothing out...

for us to want or seek.

I've presumed too much.

It's been my experience that it's not always those

who show the least who actually feel the least.

Just my dog's toenails on the wood.

Why didn't you do what you attempted to do?

I worry you'll catch my cold.

You smell like a biscuit.

I have to go home.

Astonishment and joy.

Astonishment and joy.

Astonishment and joy.

You haven't accomplished any of your responsibilities.

- Do you need assistance? - No, I don't think so.

So it's a cold plate for supper tonight?

I'll milk the cows.

Friday, May 30th.

The sunshine streaming through the branches

makes a tremendous farrago of light and shade.

We hold our friendship between us and study it,

as if it were the incomplete map of our escape.

When the day is done,

my mind turns to her,

and I think, with a special heat,

"Why are we to be separated?"

Your smile stopped. Is it meant for someone else?

Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.

We need calico and buttons and shoe thread.

Am I troubling you, sitting here with you like this?

Not at all.

I may be late coming to it,

but I've learned consideration of others.

I've learned the need for human sympathy

and the unfulfilled want of it.

I feel I've provided you with sympathy.

I suppose that's so.

The smile returns.

Good day.

Oh.

I believe that intimacy increases goodwill.

And if that's the case,

then every minute we spend together

will make us more cheerful workers.

Won't our farms benefit from that?

Won't our husbands?

All our burdens will be lightened.

When she left, I was like a skiff at sea

with neither hand nor helm to guide it.

They're cleaning out the drain under the street along the fork.

And several people are down with fever.

Holt came by to hang the bacon.

He still hasn't recovered from being beaten by two strangers.

He had to be hauled to his home in his cart.

He said the men who did it were gonna kill him,

and then realized they were mistaken as to who he was.

Lately, it seems like all you talk about

are highwaymen and house breakers.

On the contrary,

I often defer to your sensitivities.

And I haven't even told you about

all the reports in the county of men

who've poisoned and killed their wives

because I haven't found it a fitting subject for supper.

"Killed their wives," he used those words?

Mm-hm. those words.

Have you had any disagreements?

Yes, about my wifely duties.

I told him that I was opposed to it, that I was not willing.

And he accepted that?

Well, he hasn't touched me since, so...

But I made myself feel better...

by composing a poem.

Can I read you the opening stanza?

You can read me the entire poem.

No, I'll start with the opening stanza.

"I love flowering gardens.

I love creeping plants.

I love walking in the air,

but I fear swarming ants."

I don't think I can support the rhyme.

You see why I didn't read the whole thing?

I'm sorry.

I've always been contrary and maladroit.

Earlier, I... I felt that...

whenever I would draw close to you, you would retreat,

and that, if I kept still, you would return

but you'd stay at a distance, like those sparrows

that stay in the farmyard and won't come into the house.

- That's not how I feel. - How do you feel, then?

When I was in school,

the teacher had me read "Cordelia"

to an older boy's "King Lear."

Near the end of the play,

the king and his daughter are imprisoned,

but he views it in a positive way.

"Come, let's away to prison," he says.

"We two alone shall sing like birds in a cage."

Imprisoned...

In a positive way?

Well, maybe that one has to read the entire play.

It may be only in plays where people

are imprisoned in a positive way.

You don't think there's a cage that could work to our benefit?

I just...

I only know that...

I've never liked cages.

I hope you had a good afternoon in Shangri-La or Timbuktu,

wherever it is you've been.

I had a busy afternoon, yes.

I would think.

Five hours you've been gone.

I went to the drapers.

I couldn't find anything I liked.

Then I stopped by the tinker for a sack of coffee,

but he's now asking 60 cents, and I only had 50.

Then I thought I would buy you a treat of some kind,

but Mr. Arnolds reminded me

that I still owed for my last transactions so...

I was forced to close up my purse.

Tell me everything about your day.

Don't hold anything back.

You're not interested in how your wife spends her time.

I don't feel I have a wife.

I feel I have a selfish whore who...

who'd rather wander off to another man's house

than contribute any labor.

Well, Dyer was off in the fields,

and her house is on the way back home, so...

So it's just Abigail and you

tittering and gossiping away the hours?

Enjoying each other's company.

I have certain expectations, and you have certain duties.

We've talked all night and day about your expectations.

I will not stay with a woman

if it continually requires contention.

Well, then you shouldn't stay with me, should you?

Don't ask for more than you can handle.

Sunday, June 8th.

All afternoon, a hawk has been using a single cloud above us

as its own parasol.

To ward off others of its kind.

Our whole house now seems both angry and repentant.

God help us.

When three days went by without a word from her,

I stole over to her house to look on her

from what I imagined to be

a vantage point of perfect safety.

By turning the lens piece, I could draw her face nearer,

and hold it there until she turned away.

Her image provoked a sensation in me

like the violence that sends a floating branch

far out over a waterfall's precipice

before it plummets.

"For the wife does not have the authority over her own body,

but the husband does.

Do not deprive one another,

so that Satan may not tempt you

because of your lack of self-control."

Ephesians 5:33. "Submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord..."

Monday, June 9th.

Merciful father...

Turn the channel of events.

Wednesday, June 11th.

Dyer has been silent all day,

and I was happy to be left in my solitude.

Hello!

Tallie...

We haven't seen you for days.

Have you been ill?

- Nothing serious, I hope. - Ho!

She's been under the weather.

- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.

We want to invite you to dinner again this Saturday next.

But it's our turn. We should be feasting you.

In the meantime, please be our guests.

We'd love to.

Six?

- Six it is. - Hup!

My mother once told me in a fury

when I was a little girl

that my father asked nothing of her

except that she work in the garden,

harvest the produce, preserve the fruit,

tend the poultry, milk the cows,

manage the household duties,

and help out in the fields when needed.

She said she appeared in his ledger

only when she purchased a dress.

Am I anywhere in there?

I'm recording spring expenses.

And how have things changed?

Daughters are married off so young

that everywhere you look a slender and unwilling girl

is being forced to stem a sea of tribulations

before she is even full-grown in height.

That's its purpose!

Come on. Come on.

Morning.

Morning, Jim.

Morning, ma'am.

I've got a new book for you.

Do you know, I'd actually like to see

that blue dress you have there.

All right, lady.

Over here!

It's two and a half.

I'll take it.

My change?

Thank you.

The Mannings' oldest daughter tipped over an oil lamp

and it set the house ablaze.

- Fire! - Ho! Ho!

- Fire! - Before she was driven

from the house by the flames,

she heard calls from her sister,

who was trapped in the upper loft.

Get her out of there.

Cassie!

Get her out!

Get her out!

Your wife is to be commended on her hospitality and cooking.

I can recall the day...

No, thank you.

...when every family was fed, clothed, shot, sheltered,

and warmed from the products a good wife

gathered within her own fence line.

I heard down by the loggers that Mrs. Mannings' oldest

got fiercely burned in the house fire.

- Cassie. - And died.

Yes, she did.

Well, as my father used to say,

"The supreme disposer of all events

does sometimes disappoint our earthly hopes."

What a marvelous hanging lamp.

Finney purchased it so that everyone could read

with equal ease around the room.

I wasn't brought up to read over much,

but I do believe a father should give his children

every chance to improve.

Children being a sore point in this household.

And yours, I'd expect.

You'll have to forgive my husband.

Even so,

whatever misfortunes arrive at my doorstep,

I seek to improve my lot with my own industry.

I...

I study my options closely,

and just attend to everything with more vehemence.

Well, then you should be commended for that.

I'll give you an example.

When I first began farming,

I was so vexed at my own inability

to stop my dogs barking

that one January, during a storm,

I held the dog around the corner of the barn in a gale

until it froze to death.

I nearly froze to death myself, at least froze my hands,

even with my heavy work gloves.

That is reprehensible.

Did I see outside that you use an old shovel plow?

Well, since you're interested in my machinery,

I have a hinged harrow that's been giving me trouble.

The spikes catch the rocks and roots, and they break off.

Well, our harrow has upright discs.

Work better?

Yeah, it seems to.

Bring the desserts.

I think we're stuffed.

My husband insists on his pastries

and preserved fruits and creams.

Well, good.

What is happening?

Are you in danger?

What happened to your neck?

No, I just took a fall over a fence.

I hadn't heard.

There are many things about which you haven't heard.

Back at the table,

Tallie kept strict custody of her eyes.

Her husband's mood seemed to have darkened.

He served the pastries and creams himself,

leaving only her plate empty.

Saturday, June 21st.

My heart a maelstrom.

My head a bedlam.

A whole week and no visit from Tallie.

No word.

My anxieties often force me to stop my work

and pace the house like an inmate.

I have to see her.

Ho, ho!

Tallie! Tallie!

What has happened?

They're gone.

And no goodbye?

We need to call the sheriff.

And report what exactly? That our neighbors moved?

It's the Zebrun farm. They were renting.

I'll go then.

For what reason?

There's blood!

And you never had an accident?

So we'll just do nothing?

I'll make the rounds of the neighbors.

And if we are not satisfied,

we can take your fears to the sheriff.

Thank you.

Monday, June 23rd.

Dyer said Mrs. Nottoway recalled spotting their caravan

on the country road in the late evening, heading northwest.

Mrs. Nottoway?

She believed she spied Tallie's figure

alongside her husband's but was unsure.

A hired hand, she thought, was driving the second wagon.

Sunday, June 29th

I spotted the sheriff on his way to church.

I conveyed my accusations, to no response.

Dyer said that no one would investigate a crime

without evidence that a crime had been committed.

Calm myself?

I refused to calm myself,

so he tied me to a chair and administered laudanum.

Monday, June 30th.

Bleary and short of breath from the laudanum...

I wake weeping,

retire weeping,

stand before my duties weeping.

Sunday, July 6th.

I am a library without books,

a sea of fear, agitation and want.

Dyer speaks of how much we have for which to be grateful.

I sit violently conscious of the ticking clock

while he weeps at what he imagines

to be his own poor, forgotten self.

Wednesday, July 9th.

Despite some hours without the laudanum,

I was so befogged and wild with grief

that Dyer left me for the afternoon,

unsettled and wary of my state.

Tuesday, July 22nd.

- Weldon? - Good day.

The renters at Zebrun's farm are gone.

Did they leave a forwarding address?

No. You've got a letter.

Hyah.

Is it from her?

It is.

- Oh. - Origin?

Onondaga County. Do you know it?

It's north of Syracuse.

Are you gonna read it?

To myself.

Abigail, Abigail, Abigail.

I'm sorry that all I have to send you is this letter,

and I'm sorry for all that a letter cannot be.

Even the best letter is just a little bit of someone.

I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye,

and I'm sorry that we seem to have traded

one sort of misery for another.

It turns out that houses deep in the backwoods

always seem to be awful and unnatural in their loneliness.

If there were only a ruined abbey

around here with bats in it, the view would be perfect.

Our roof is ramshackle and sheds water nicely in dry weather

but we have to spread milk pans around the floor when it rains.

Still, outside the kitchen,

there are already anemones and heart's-ease,

and even prettier flowers which my stupidity

keeps me from naming for you.

I believe I've enjoyed myself less these last few weeks

than any other female who ever lived.

During what little time I have to myself,

Finney reads aloud instructions for wives

from the Old Testament.

But when it comes to the Bible,

I have to say that there are a lot of passages

he may know word for word,

but which haven't touched his heart.

I can't account for his state of mind except to say

that my company must be intensely disagreeable to him.

And if that's the case,

I'm sorry for it.

Ho...

Good afternoon!

Afternoon.

Whoa.

Hey.

I've got something for you.

There you go.

Thank you.

Good day.

Hyah. Come on.

- Is it for me? - From Schoharie County.

- Your Abigail. - Give that to me.

Give it. Finney, give...

Finney!

"What's to become of the thousands of our sex

scattered out in the wilderness

and obliged to tax our strengths?

I feel as if, at that selfsame hour

when our prospects were brightest,

that in the dim distance a black shadow approached.

And yet still,

imagine the happiest of unions for us of the sort

in which two families previously at daggers drawn

are miraculously brought together on love's account.

It is your face I bear through the night.

It is to you I devote a dreaming space

before I turn myself to sleep, but there is no sleep.

It's as if within me everything clamors for air,

and I think if it's like this now,

what will it be like later?

I send you what love and support I can.

I send you all my heart's hopes. Abigail."

Please know that force alone

couldn't have gotten me here to a place like this.

I was told I had to act in support of interest,

happiness and the reputation of someone I once loved.

As far as I can figure,

we're now still only about 85 miles apart.

But of course,

people like us don't go on long visits.

Dyer refused first to permit my departure,

and then to accompany me,

and only caught up to the cart

at the end of our property and climbed aboard.

We were the very picture of anguish,

rattling along side by side.

The night was fair and warm with the appearance of a coming rain.

A shower.

It's so hard to write about

how much I want to thank you,

but I have to start somewhere.

Abigail...

I want to tell you that being with you, even alone,

has been like being a part of the biggest

and most spacious community I could ever imagine.

I feel closer to you than I would a sister since

everything amazing that I feel,

I chose to feel.

And do you know what memory it is that I most cherish?

It's of you turning to me with that smile you gave me

once you realized that you were loved.

I have no way of knowing what is to come,

but I do know that all of the trust

and care and courage we shared,

that will all shine on us

and protect us.

You are my city of joy.

You are my city of joy.

Whoa.

Might I ask your business?

We've come to see Tallie. Where is she?

I heard you on the road.

You made such a racket. I took you for the tin knocker.

We've ridden for three days.

We are not leaving without seeing her.

I'm not concerned with what you will or will not leave without.

Keep a civil tongue, friend.

Where is she?

I treated her with tea of soot

and pine-tree root to good effect,

but sickness always tests our willingness

to bow before the greatest authority.

My guess is that it was diphtheria.

No!

There is some alienation from marital...

What time is it?

I don't care.

- I have to go. - You're gonna make a mark.

Come on.

Come on.

Come on.

Sunday, August 31st.

Weather very hot and sunny.

I cleaned out the shed

which was full of rusty and dusty rubbish,

washed the windows,

and preserved apples for the winter.

Fourteen dollars from the sale of our milk and butter.

I have cut my hand with a paring knife.

I console myself with the conviction

that someday in the future when Dyer

is forced to travel to Syracuse for feed or supplies,

I will join him,

and take his rifle and go to Skaneateles

and kill Finney where he sits.

Dyer has been at work on the barn.

Each day, we enact our separation.

Sometimes after it gets dark,

we walk over the hills across our upper fields

for the wide, wide view.

And Dyer tries to imagine us as we were,

while I try to imagine Tallie

and that cordial and accepting home

that existed solely in our dreams.

I imagine Tallie and Nellie somewhere together,

and Nellie running her brush through Tallie's hair.

I imagine banishing forever those sentiments of my own

that she chastened and refined.

I imagine resolving to do what I can for Dyer.

And I imagine continuing to write in this ledger,

here,

as though this was my life.

As though my life was not elsewhere.

I've always feared that I would bring misfortune

to those I loved.

Are you really saying nothing to that?

I don't know where to start.

I can't imagine what more we could do for one another...

with our constraints.

You can't?

I can't.

You can't?

Well, then...

It's a good thing we remember that our imaginations

can always be cultivated.

香格里拉，廷巴克图，异域的发音勾勒出超越任何习得经验的他者的地界。加德满都，乌兰巴托，语言的陌生和距离的广远构建现实中不存在却在想象中滋长萌芽的永恒乐土，那些属于东方的意象，漫溢到美国地图遥似天边的边界之外，已是一个受教育程度不高的美国农夫语言的想象力所能探触到的世界尽头。

当Finney倾注满怀的恶意，以他所知的虚构东方来讥诮Taille潜在的外遇时，他只是想一贯地通过言语与肉体的暴力来折磨并驯服他的所有物，他的雌兽，他圈养的妻子。事实上他不幸言中了，但他自己永无可能察觉到充当皮鞭的反问中暗含的真相：他的女人的确肆意漫游在远方的世界流连忘返，而那个天国般的新世界比西方人臆想中投射女性特质的东方更为遥远。这个世界没有男人能涉足，像他这样想象力早被扼杀的男人更永远无从窥得通往此处的门径。这是只属于你和我，在我们身前无名无姓的流浪逃亡的祖母们，和在我们消逝之后仍存有勇气与希望去建造方舟追逐太阳的女儿们，只在想象中存在的女人的新世界。

在你到来之前，文字构筑了我的世界。整部影像的基调与底色都是Abigail流淌的旁白叙述。散文诗般的日记体将属于个人私密的口述史在克制却哀婉的语调下奔涌成史诗。短暂的不到一年的光阴，等不及酷寒的冬季在轮回中沉默地登门拜访，你却已经不辞而别，每一次我试图把融进夕阳光晕的背影在记忆中用文字风干成标本，风中鼓动的裙裾却如同海上风帆预示了命运悲剧性的航向。从冬到秋，封冻、升温、炽烈、死寂，自然的景观与心境的变迁无痕地实现了异轨同操的表达，非语言的氛围情景承托了单一文本的筑基，让回溯文字而得以复现的影像能再一次被赋予生者的温度。

作为庸碌农妇的Abigail在望不到尽头的苦难中日复一日消磨着本就所剩无几的灵魂。希望渺远，永无满足的莽荒之境中连温饱的最低生存需求都难以为继，更遑论精神、梦想与爱，一切情感的波动与心绪的震荡都要让位于活着的苦役。麻木黯淡之下她却藏着耀眼的珍宝——文字是她的巫术，在这个宣称上帝治下的男性世界她唯一能为自己所有的权力，手握的利刃——文学的天赋令她在茫茫的模糊女性群像中拥有隐秘的特权，以书写来催眠悲痛的浪潮，以文字的感知来尝试深渊中的自救。言说的权力一砖一瓦建造起属于她自己的精神游憩之所，在那里万物栩栩可爱，在那里她还能切身感到灵魂尚未消亡于心死的可能性。

静谧而广漠的文字世界中又充满了不可琢磨的虚伪性。情绪的片段一经大脑过度便失真，一旦涉及语言的再度组织便染上了无可抗拒的矫饰性，连带着不能被文字束缚概括的想象都必须削足适履，裁剪后嵌入语言的边框。等到落笔时分，日记早已酝酿成一坛自我满足的苦酒，所谓的真实性，只是我同自己撒的一个莫大的谎。虽然文字名义上扮演着剪下的一片昨日的阴影，一面与自我对话和解的镜子，实则却是善于辞令之人用以掩饰和自洽，合理化伤痛与伪装自我的天然手段，与金属组建构成的机械装置别无二致。Abigail优美又精确的比喻句随着空境赐予观者极致的视听体验，然而巧言的修辞，譬喻的长句捕捉一幕幕景观赋予形状的习惯暗示出的是，对文字有意识的训练已经形成大脑想象机制的反射条件，比喻越是细腻妥帖，离心里直观的感情越遥不可及。

呼啸着喧腾着的神弃之地处处显示着文学的无用。既连饱餐饭都成奢望，又怎敢妄议审美的价值。不仅文学在靠天吃饭的穷山恶水是无效的，一个富有诗书的妻子对于丈夫而言与其说是添色更像是累赘：给一户穷民一只歌喉婉转的夜莺并不能使他们以存续性衡量的幸福感有任何提升，但会下蛋的肥母鸡却能给他们无与伦比的曙光。

美在贫瘠的土地上没有容身之所。Taille的出现却令迄今为止只能附着在文学想象的美获得了托生之所还过魂来。她是兀自燃烧而不计后果的一丛野火，恍若她不加捆缚的红发，蓬蓬然生长蔓延扩张为吞噬理性思考的海水与火焰，少女时代不加修剪的任性妄为中自有一种挑衅的姿态。美好地过了头，又昭示着与这片男性气质土壤的格格不入。天成的浪漫，碰上野蛮的神话是没有退路也没有出路的，只会在迎头痛击的暴力下化作一具冰冷却乖顺的尸体。有些悲剧在序章就埋下了伏笔，然而幻梦如真，蒙住了看清蠢动威胁的慧眼，假装在幕天席地的野合中，一瞬可以抵达天长地久的时间维度。

典型的孤岛设置并没有太多可以生出新意的空间。无非是两个外在毫无半点相似之处内心却合契无比的孤独之人在偶然的际遇中摩擦出爱的火光并彼此救赎，进而一个主动试探，一个被动畏缩，这些情爱节奏都是老生常谈的经书。但陈词可以重弹，有限的音符也能编排出无尽乐章。之于这个故事，它的独特性在诗性笔调建立的女性主义文学叙事。随着日记的时间线一天天铺陈开来，叙事的张弛缓急也跟着展开。影像化的改编看似打破了原著纯然的文学叙事而以视觉语言强行介入，事实上影片的完成度与结构都已经为文学与电影的共生语言找到了一条曲径通幽的道路。此外，声音元素作为表演的另一重延伸又为失语的文字增添了情感的演绎。视与听的语言共同引人迷失在文本的场域之中。

回忆中的角色一一亮相，女主角Abigail的名字揭晓却姗姗来迟，在一个羞怯的她无法拒绝的社交场合被迫吐露，似乎由她文字游走的世界里，她的出场须得由自己控制，而不是旁人一句称呼或漫不经心地介绍下就将名字代表的叙述自主性拱手让人。而Taille,她的名字像是那位无情上帝的嘲弄，恰好与Abigail失去的女儿Nellie押韵。命运夺走了她生命中的火光，便又送了一束更明亮更热烈的来，有时候巧合无法不使人做这种联想。

无子的隐痛顺理成章构成将两人心的距离拉近的第一条线索。十九世纪美国东北部清教徒的观念中对妻子的位置与义务有神圣而严苛的定义，但执行的力度在远离文明中心的乡野上全看个人，也即丈夫的头脑中那颗毒瘤种得有多深。城市文明辐射半径之外的“法外之地”，上帝是最微不足道却又最举重若轻的存在。若上帝真有仁慈，他就不必化作不仁的天地，夺走在土地上耕种的人们生存的希望，更不必毫无缘由地熄灭一个稚嫩灵魂的生命之火。上帝和他人间代理人的虚伪之处正在于，既呼吁人在不幸中坚信神的救世，又要在不幸降临时原谅上帝偶发的疏忽。如此，人只能寄虚无的希望于来世。那里或有数座庇护之城，可以大庇天下不幸之人。

但女人的落脚处又在上帝眼中的哪里呢？《旧约》教导世人，服从你的丈夫如同侍奉你的主。当神只为男人的意志而撰写教义，我又怎能信奉这样一位主，他的福音中不会有我的一席之地。宗教的压迫神圣化了妇职的意义，将女性编织进层层束缚的道德与责任之下，为妻要为丈夫操持好家室，默默忍受丈夫的泄欲，成为厅堂中一件漂亮的摆设，为母要以永动的繁衍义务填满每一寸本属于自我的空间，直至任何曾有的想象与梦境都在养儿育女的连轴转中丧失意义。

即使从母亲的人生中屡次反思女性的处境，Abigail还是斩断不了父权的捆绑。丧女之痛像一根刺反复扎疼她对自己失职的认识，隐痛又在见到母与子的场景下不断复现提醒着她育儿的责任。对Taille而言，无子是她丈夫眼中横亘在夫妻关系里最不和谐的一桩罪，这罪只会单方面降在女性头上。如一片寸草不生的地，一只下不了蛋的母鸡，你无用的子宫注定你不是一个完整的女人。共享的悲痛与无能为力淹没了她们的心，然而这种情绪在与丈夫朝夕相处面面相觑的日子中是无人可诉说的，唯有关停情感的感知才能继续麻木地生活。女性互助的价值就在炉火前的交心片刻被勾连起来。

父权制婚姻的阴影像萦绕不去的乡愁一样盘桓在她们的头上，愁云惨雾阻断了前路。Abigail形容与丈夫的性行为是“他夜间的愉悦”，言下之意是床笫间的亲密对于她没有任何的性快感，只是被动承受着男性的性欲发泄与传宗接代的任务。Taille拒绝丈夫性要求后受到的威胁则令人毛骨悚然。在独属于她们两人的性爱中却让人看到寂灭的希望复生的可能性。

第一个吻，于两人都是全然陌生的经验。在同性恋文化还没有被主流社会道德明确斥作禁忌的当时，这反而不是一种明知禁忌的反叛，而是跟从情感的召唤探索未知又神秘的域外之地。手中只有一张残缺的地图，却要按图找到逃离的去处。彼此试谈又退却，胆怯的心思终在一个吻中道尽了心意相通。狂喜的感受流遍四肢百骸，超越了语言的经验，令一切字词的堆叠都黯然失色。Astonishment and joy，复诵三次的迷狂恍若祷文给全新的神话注入了信仰的力量，同样复诵三次的"Abigail"则是无边绝望中唯一可以点亮心灵余温的咒语。吟诵你的名字，我的生命就能透过想象延续下去。

关于两个丈夫的形象，影片难能可贵的一点是没有把对他们的塑造扁平化成标签意味的“同夫”。在女性叙事的领域之外，虽然着墨分量不一，却各自完成了立体的描写。穷困与悲伤给Dyer打造了一张铁铸的面具，他笨拙又不善言辞，将与妻子等量的痛苦全部埋藏在男性性别建构下的沉默强硬之中。时间流逝，他学会共情妻子的感受并最终呈现了一段在时代局限中稍为健康的夫妻关系图景。而Finney作为反面形象也有颇多值得玩味的细节铺设，从他对牲畜毫无怜悯的杀戮，对疑似侵入边界陌生人的仇视都可以看出他是在用暴力法则驯服自己的所有物。讽刺的是，口中最为虔信上帝旨意之人却也是最残暴的刽子手。

只有在平等自由的性中，我才感到被爱与真实，才真正体会何谓活着。福克纳笔下艾米丽毒死赫默的情节变身成有毒的男子气概冷血而有预告的谋杀。“那战胜了爱情的煎熬的永恒长眠已经使他驯服了”，野性难驯的她终于臣服在毒药发作的一支舞中。Abigail面对死去爱人的尸体以日记中性爱场面集锦式地涌现来压制死亡的具象，文字串联的回忆画面瞬间摄取了观者所有的感官，仿佛逝去的爱人可以起死回生。而这种想象支配回忆的生命力确实能抗衡死亡，直至阴阳两隔也不可能将你带离我的身边。

美国是一个由无畏的拓荒者在马背上建立的国家。我们的祖先向着未知的新世界索取征服与冒险，所到之处汇聚成了如今地图册上指尖触摸的一道道疆土的边界。女人的命运也正如天父凝视下无家可归的流浪者，在拓荒中逐渐找回自我。世上没有为女人预留的国度，女人作为天父的奴隶，世世代代奔徙流浪从未放弃过对应许之地的追寻，去梦想、去期待与用想象创造新世界，也是在完成一套独属于女性的神话与语言。

（先写到这里，未完）

这部片9分都不为过吧，编剧，导演（才35碎）），演员，台词，节奏，对那么晦涩文艺的原著短篇小说的改编，，，还有等等都不止8.1分吧，比卡罗尔落地，比菊石文艺，比烧女紧凑，觉得应该是姬片中的扛把子了，怎么会只有8.1分呢？还有哪个姬片里的两女主能如此般配到无与伦比天造地合，沃特斯特那么深情敏感，科比的层次感和性张力。还有哪个姬片里有同夫表达的那么真切的？一个包容传统一个暴虐自私，没有吧。。。剧情惨到极致的清教徒世界的女子怎么能盼到新世界的来临呢？苦逼到爆的片子，惨到不能刷两遍的片子，怎么能不炸裂整个姬圈？那么用的太多了，因为实在对8.1分看不下去了。致敬影片的所有工作者。

说起近年来好莱坞最亮眼的女演员。

凡妮莎·柯比绝对值得起一个提名。

她是《碟中谍6》中光芒几乎盖过阿汤哥的白寡妇。

也是今年颁奖季大热作品《女人的碎片》中，经历了丧女之痛的玛莎。

从危险性感的黑市军火商，到隐忍却温柔的母亲。

凡妮莎一直在向好莱坞、向市场展现她的多面性。

而如今又有一部新作品，让我们看到了她的无限潜力——

打开心世界 (2020)

8.2

2020 / 美国 / 剧情 爱情 同性 / 莫娜·法斯特欧德 / 凯瑟琳·沃特斯顿 凡妮莎·柯比

豆瓣8.2，近八成观众打出四星以上的高分。

这部电影不仅成功拿下了这一届威尼斯电影节的酷儿狮奖，也是金狮奖的提名者之一。

导演莫娜·法斯特欧德，你可能会对这个名字感到陌生。

但要是我说，她是《野马》的联合编剧之一，你也许就会有一点印象了。

《野马》

去年大魔王凯特·布兰切特配音的那部讲述隔离生活的短片，《居家自制》，我们也能在一众编剧中看到莫娜的名字。

再来看看《打开心世界》的卡司。

刚刚提到过的凡妮莎·柯比，美艳贵气、演技傲人。

一部《王冠 第二季》，曾帮她拿下艾美奖提名。

而《女人的碎片》，又让她成为今年奥斯卡影后的有力竞争者。

另一位女主，凯瑟琳·沃特斯顿。

《神奇动物在哪里》中的蒂娜，《异形：契约》中的丹尼尔斯。

一米八的高挑身材，气场强大、走路带风，是个人特色非常鲜明的女演员。

卡西·阿弗莱克，凭借《海边的曼彻斯特》中克制却动人的表演封神。

他是小金人二次得主本·阿弗莱克的弟弟，而卡西本人也是奥斯卡影帝。

《海边的曼彻斯特》

美女+影帝的配置，有颜有实力，已经很令人期待。

这部电影的故事也讲得很美。

它改编自美国作家吉姆·谢泼德在2017年发行的同名短篇小说，讲述了19世纪中期的美国，两对夫妇在困境和孤独中的挣扎。

背景设定在1856年的斯科哈里县。

农妇阿比盖尔(凯瑟琳·沃特斯顿饰)和丈夫戴尔(卡西·阿弗莱克饰)过着与世隔绝的生活。

几个月前，他们的女儿因为白喉病逝，阿比盖尔的生活也因此失去了意义。

她在日记中写道：

“天气晴朗却寒冷。今早我发现卧室里结冰了，这是这个冬天的第一次。”

“土豆刚洗好，上面的水就结成了冰。”

“没有一丝锐气，也不抱任何希望。”

“新的一年又开始了。”

新的一年又开始了，但阿比盖尔的文字却让人看不到任何希望。

冰冷、易碎、摇摇欲坠，就像土豆上的那层冰。

她每天重复做着同样的农活，日子过得机械又乏味。

与丈夫的感情，也在失去女儿之后麻木冷却。

戴尔不懂她的魂不守舍，她也不想对他敞开心扉、坦白自己的痛苦。

这一天，县里来了一对新夫妇。

妻子塔莉(凡妮莎·柯比饰)优雅、大方，阿比盖尔立刻被她吸引了。

两个女人之间建立起一种奇妙的联系。

阿比盖尔向塔莉吐露，她与戴尔的婚姻，根本与浪漫沾不上边。

两人都只是在履行义务，好让艰难又空洞的生活看起来没那么可怕。

而塔莉跟她面临着同一种困境。

塔莉说，她的丈夫芬尼脾气不好、控制欲极强。

因为自己没给他生个孩子，所以夫妻不和。

塔莉又问起阿比盖尔，她是不是也没有孩子。

阿比盖尔低下头，第一次向人倾诉出她的痛苦。

这一场交心，让阿比盖尔感到前所未有的释放与欣慰。

她与塔莉的关系也日益亲密起来。

而塔莉的丈夫芬尼也察觉到了什么。

他不怀好意地邀请阿比盖尔夫妇上门做客，想看看妻子近日都与谁厮混在一起。

但阿比盖尔和塔莉却对他的心思一无所知。

她们缩在后厨的角落，塔莉笑嘻嘻地问阿比盖尔，有没有想她。

“当然啊。”

像是闺蜜间的撒娇，又或是借着玩笑表达出的真情。

为了庆祝阿比盖尔的生日，塔莉给她买了一本她梦寐以求的地图集。

她们坐在炉火边，又一次谈起荒唐的生活。

塔莉说，丈夫有个小本子，记录着每一个她出门会面的人。

什么人、见了多久，都记得清清楚楚。

芬尼还常对她说：“妻子对自己的身体没有掌控权，但她的丈夫有。”

阿比盖尔静静地听着。

这一天，两人聊到很晚。

当塔莉结束生日访问回家时，她卷入了一场几乎让她丧命的风暴中。

芬尼带她去疗养，阿比盖尔很是担心。

但塔莉总归是回来了，那个时候已经是春天。

一场要命的风暴，让两人终于鼓起勇气，向对方袒露自己的心声。

塔莉对阿比盖尔说，自己只想和她在一起。

她们灵魂交叠，实现对彼此的完全坦诚。

自从孩子死后，戴尔变得越来越情绪化。

当阿比盖尔和塔莉在一起的时候，戴尔会感到很不安。

芬尼在塔莉离家的时候，也会萌生嫉妒之情。

于是，他再一次请阿比盖尔和戴尔共进晚餐。

阿比盖尔却注意到塔莉脖子上有瘀伤。

塔莉告诉阿比盖尔，她不知道的还有很多。

接下来的整整一个星期，塔莉都没有再去找过阿比盖尔。

无法忍受的阿比盖尔跑到塔莉家，却发现房子里空无一人，只剩下一块血淋淋的头巾。

心急如焚的她试图向警方求救，却并未得到任何反馈。

最终，她还是收到了塔莉的一封信。

塔莉告诉她，自己和芬尼已经搬到了85英里以外的地方。

阿比盖尔坚持要去看塔莉。

戴尔再三阻拦，最后还是决定陪伴她一同前往。

然而，当他们到达时，只看到床上一具冰冷的尸体。

塔莉已经死了，芬尼声称是白喉。

但阿比盖尔却坚信，是芬尼毒死了塔莉。

阿比盖尔又回到了她的农场。

她和戴尔继续一起生活，但感情越来越疏远。

沉闷的生活，日复一日，虽然没有意义，但也并非无法忍受。

她又做回了那只笼子里的鸟。

在那个年代，女性的力量很微弱，但仍燃起了几点星火。

玛丽·沃斯通克拉夫特的一本《女权辩护》，正式打响女权主义的战争。

女权先驱用她们瘦弱的身板，对抗着父权的不公。

但那一年，又离女性意识的彻底觉醒，仍差着半个多世纪。

那一场轰轰烈烈的妇女选举权运动，还没有真正地开展起来。

整个女性群体在无尽的黑暗长夜中，半梦半醒、又义无反顾地摸索着前行。

而阿比盖尔和塔莉，也正是这半梦半醒中的一员。

可她们终究还是不同的。

阿比盖尔小时候曾演过《李尔王》中的女儿。

“来吧，我们去监狱，就像在笼子里唱歌的鸟儿。”

阿比盖尔认为，即使被囚在鸟笼里，也依旧能放声歌唱。

但塔莉不同，在笼子里，她便无法发声。

所以，她逃到了阿比盖尔这里，从由窒息的生活所编织的铁笼中脱身。

她试图逃离丈夫的控制、逃离所谓妇道的禁锢，最终成了殉道者。

紫罗兰凋零，新世界将至。

台湾作家简媜在她的代表作《四月裂帛》里写道：

“深情即是一桩悲剧， 必得以死来句读。”

如果旧世界甚至容纳不下两个女人的心意相通，那么凋零，其实也是一种反抗。

*本文作者：吃吃

两位女主非常好，化学作用气贯长虹，抵御暴风雪。 我不反对画外音，从头到尾画外音直接搬字过纸是偷懒，想想编剧之一是短篇小说的原作者先生，肯定是舍不得改。导演摄影两位主演都尽力了，原料如此，巧妇难为。令人扼腕的是，说一千道一万的绝世之恋，还是落到那只“我无能为力”的杯具中，想象代替不了一切，只留下酸涩的反高潮。其实她只需要一本9毛钱的地图册，一匹马。一支来福枪。

片中拍出了近年最好的初吻之一，农场荒原暴风雪，摄影剪辑一流......但我总觉欠缺点什么。单纯再现伤痕沉湎痛苦，难免陷入sentimentalism的坑。我无所谓HE或BE，但是电影需要一个觉醒时刻/cathartic relief，以对抗这压迫和无力，不然，再美的叙事，也终结于虚空。

友邻分享了网友的一段话，我十分赞同。在我看来TWTC的败笔就是剧本的走向，也反映了直男的思维定式和局限。无论文字多么好，美则美矣，灵魂缺氧，或曰，灵魂仍是隐约的警告和训诫。 即便他写出情感之绚丽，感叹女人的不幸，仍是那种苦难抒情的调子，单向的抚今追昔，只是赞叹追抚，囿于既定叙事中。牺牲不可避免，等一等，牺牲的不可避免？真的没另外的选择了吗？在漫长的不被看见的历史里，有没有不认命的人，做出不认命的事，被尘埃湮没在男性主导的主流叙事外？想想华老师的《房客》和其它女性们？ 南市买辔头，北市买长鞭，朝辞戴尔去，暮宿丛林边。

若士必怒，伏尸二人，流血五步，今日是也……

再次说，导演三人组非常棒。但是我愿意跳出剧本“铺陈美丽与哀伤”的逻辑，在“伤”的情绪之外，想一想别的。

网友“Tallie是具有叛逆性格的，她用很‘放’来形容自己，她告诉Abigail小时常不听父亲的话。我们不要忘记，编剧和原著是直男。在创作女同角色时会有成见。他们可以写她逃，跑路；Tallie可以崩了Finney，在那鸟不拉屎的地方没人会发现。但编剧写她放弃，听天由命，殒亡。这是他们的选择。”

开始也有写叛逆的性格，写着写着觉得不对，惯性上来，就把她写成美丽与哀愁了。这是他们的选择。

Abigail平素沉默寡言，但静水流深，谁能预料当人的至爱一个又一个被剥夺时，能产生的爆发力？他们写她陷入巨大痛苦，在想象中复仇和自洽，这是他们的选择。

父权的压迫和暴力，偏远边陲的生活艰辛，对女性生存的挤压；困境下有情人终究不成眷属，确实非常动人。这样的书写带来的感动是审美上的满足。这种抒情仍然是循守陈规的。感时花溅泪，恨别鸟惊心，确实是好句，也是诗人的情绪，不是花鸟的，究竟诗人不是花也不是鸟，花鸟只是情绪的寄托。正如在主要是男性书写的历史中，女性是弱者，被欣赏被惋惜者，默认了一怒为红颜的是男人，没想过红颜一怒为红颜。说到这我又要说华老师，她的好处是拥有另一种想象力，从缝隙中开花发芽，从边缘写出了颠覆，transgression from the margin。

电影瑕瑜互见。编剧三星。Mona Fastvold作为导演发挥的余地不多，虽然加入了一些很好的细节，但对剧本没有大改，把大部分创作空间用在调度和视觉语言上了，四星半。配乐略过火，三星半。毫无疑问，Katherine Waterston和Vanessa Kirby五星， 如蜜如电。

PS：我很喜欢这部电影，也有issue。我的issue不在电影，在原著和编剧，在从女性角度看世界和想象力。

从源头上说，原著作者虚构了一位生活于1850年代新英格兰的边远农场女性的家庭，感情和生活。她和丈夫的关系，她的爱人与丈夫的关系，在故事中不可移除，她们夫妻关系的negotiations，是情节转折的动力。作者无法或不愿想象男性的缺席。

在视觉化之后，就会有人谈好男人、坏男人、OK男人，也会重复那个固有误解：女人因为没有遇到好男人或婚姻不幸，才去同性那里抱团取暖。

避开热门对比，就说短篇，也是历史小说，虚构的，日记体的，英国作家萨拉·华特斯的《灵契》，没男人什么事，是BE，是完全的女性角度，想象力很大胆。大小姐是受了哪个男朋友/丈夫的冷遇转而做姬吗？不存在。说到历史想象力，维多利亚三部曲的另两部长篇更是想象力丰富。成王败寇，历史大部分是强者记录，但它有A面和B面，我们何不多去想象没有人写下来的B面。

说一个久远一点的电影，1985年的Desert Hearts，美国，小地方，乡下，银幕之内不见男主。电影不讨论好男人坏男人。电影的对焦点，把观众的注意力集中在两位女主如何看待世界，如何对待感情和未来。

这也许才是被期许的world to come。

短评字数受限，我只好来凑数长评。影片中两位女主的第一次吻戏，我觉得是整部影片最大的亮点。

在亲吻之前，二人对话的氛围就已经十分暧昧：Tallie来探望Abigail（她此番是有备而来，为了表明心迹），寒暄过后，Tallie坐在椅子上，看着正在忙着给她沏茶的Abigail，半天不吭声。Abigail觉得奇怪，停下手中的事情，回头问她怎么了。犹豫了一会，Tallie鼓起勇气说“每天早上醒来，我都在想永远都不要离开你”，这句话近似告白，Abigail听后低头抿了抿嘴，想说什么最终又没说，回过头继续忙碌（她一向内敛）。Tallie第一次露出微笑，是看到喜欢的人被自己撩到的那种笑；接着Tallie说受 Abigail的影响她写了一首诗，念出了诗的标题，一听也是在诉衷肠，继续表白。Abigail自然地接过话题，感慨曾以为自己的才情可以改变世界，没想到却是这么平凡。听了这句话，Tallie好像得到了某种鼓舞，她表示同感，激动地表达了自己对于成功和幸福生活的憧憬，然后问“你知道我想问什么吗？”，Abigail茫然摇头，Tallie站起来靠近她，急切、却又小心地问：“有没有可能，这种幸福的时刻还未曾光临过我们（我们从未体验过这种幸福的感觉）？”，Abigail回答“我认为有过”，又改口说“可能有过”。 Tallie貌似对这个答案不满意，反问一句“是吗？”，便开始追问“那么你怎样看待我们（之间的关系）？”，Abigail紧张地排词遣句，最后干脆豁出去（挑了一下眉毛）说出她其实反复思量很多次的答案：“l imagine that l love how our encircling feelings leave nothing out for us to want or seek（我觉得我喜欢那种萦绕着我们的感觉，这种感觉竟让我们如此心无旁骛地互相渴望、彼此探寻）”，Tallie第二次露出微笑，这次是了然于心、志得意满的笑。

从这段对话不难看出，Tallie和Abigail在遇见彼此以前，从来没有体验过人与人之间那种强烈的互相吸引和张力，包括和自己的丈夫都未有过，Tallie尤其如此。Abigail之所以说“我认为我有过”，那是因为她和丈夫的确有过一段“相对”幸福的时光，然而一切都因一场变故其实更有可能是认识Tallie后黯然失色了（她对与丈夫的床笫之欢兴致缺缺，之后虽有过一次，我觉得她更像是为了抚慰丈夫）。Tallie就更不必说了，她和丈夫的感情并不好，Abigail可以说是她生活中唯一的一抹亮色。对于她俩而言，认识对方才是自己所期盼的那种幸福时刻的开始，Tallie的言外之意即在于此，她非常想知道Abigail是否抱有同样的看法。所以听到Abigail的回答，她索性把问题挑明，两次追问。Tallie的心意此时已经全部显露了，Abigail的回答也足够热烈直白，末了还用一句“也许我想太多了”来给自己解围，Tallie再来一句：“在我看来，有些人不善于表达并不代表他们感觉不到。”——至此，二人心迹袒露无遗，且彼此确信，一锤定音，张力的弦经过几番对话已经拉满得犹如圆月，蓄势待发。

亲吻一开始主动的是Tallie，可是当她甫一靠近、Abigail才刚来得及微闭着眼睛去感受的时候，Tallie退却了，大概是有点害羞，她低着头吃吃笑。 Abigail一改平时的矜持，微微蹲下身子（她比Tallie高），看着她的眼睛，七分嗔爱三分揶揄地问她“为什么不继续做你想做的事？”（这一幕太有爱了！），Tallie咬紧牙关，既克制又羞涩，扭头正准备回答，Abigail却用指头微微抬起她的下巴主动凑近，Tallie先退后进，反守为攻，Abigail则顺势抓住对方的衣领，于是二人有了第一个贪婪又克制的吻。当喘息渐浓，彼此都想要索取更多时，Tallie又停了下来，不过从她脸上凸现几次的咬肌可以看出，她仍在艰难地克制，是不得已才从此间抽离。Abigail又微微蹲下，这一次是略带不解地看着Tallie的眼睛，Tallie笑着说：“我怕把感冒传染给你。”Abigail:“你闻起来有饼干的香味。”两人都忍不住笑了，Tallie用鼻尖蹭了蹭 Abigail的额头，嘴唇凑近，似挑逗又似抚慰，温柔地说“我得回家了”，仿佛下了很大决心（咬肌再次凸现），她走了出去。看看她那双无处安放的手吧：先按了按Abigail的手，然后在裙子上摩挲了一下（因为刚刚紧张出汗？），又抬起来好像整理了一下衣领（接吻时 Abigail一直拉着Tallie的衣领，以使她与自己靠得更近），最后摸着自己滚烫的脸颊，一开始出门还走错了方向；Abigail则出神地站在原地，回头惊觉Tallie已经离开、缓过神后，就一直在细品、回味。

Astonishment and joy. Astonishment and joy. Astonishment and joy.这三句是以Abigail朗读日记的画外音形式出现的。三次的语气，第二次比第一次更加笃定，而第三次更像是喜极而泣般的呓语（估计她写日记时又回味了一遍～），这三次重复更是凸显出情感的往复低回、缠绵不尽。

曾在心里反复思量却找不到定义的情感，此刻却演变成这种突如其来的亲密。手足无措下，她不得不找个椅子坐着，将身体舒展开来，以近乎献祭的方式，微笑着，喘息着，翱翔着，敞开身心去迎接和感受这神圣的战栗和狂喜（这时画外音Astonishment and joy第三次响起，结合着她的喘息声和肢体语言，我甚至认为她的身体和精神都达到了愉悦的顶峰。此时配乐加入了空灵悠远的女声吟唱，有如圣歌。而我相信，情和欲的极致是带有神性的）。接下来，她让自己的身心一整天都继续沉浸于这种恍惚和迷醉。天色已晚，她还慵懒地靠在椅子里，仍沉浸在这又惊又喜的余波里，有一搭没一搭地拨弄着手中的毛线，心不在焉。丈夫回家她也没发觉，他开口责备她怎么一天什么事也没做时，她才如梦初醒起身跑去忙碌。

弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫在《达洛维夫人》一书中，对这一乍现的欢喜有着非常精妙的描写：“这样的感觉虽然只在一时，但已足够。这是不期而至的启示，如脸上泛起的一阵红晕，你想要加以遏制，然而它已扩散开，你拿它束手无策，只得赶紧躲到偏僻的角落里，在那里暗自颤抖，感觉这个世界在向你逼近，这个世界因为某种奇异的意义、某种狂喜的压力而不断膨胀，挣破了稀薄的表皮喷涌而出，用超凡的抚慰能力，缝合了裂缝与剧痛！然后，就在那一刻，她看见了一幕幻景，在一朵藏红花中燃烧着的一根火柴，一种内在的意义几乎就要显露出来。可是，靠近中的世界撤退了，那份坚强也随之疲软了下去。结束了——这个时刻到此为止了。”——导演非常善于捕捉和放大这种微妙的情绪，我刚刚看了一下，果然是女导演。

人的一生会有多少次这样洪恩浩荡的时刻呢？即使出现了，恐怕也只有非常细腻的人才能捕捉到吧！因为“没有一种体验是过于渺小的，就是很小的开展都像是一个大的命运，并且这命运本身像是一块奇异的广大的织物，每条线都被一只无限温柔的手引来，排在另一条线的旁边，千百条互相持衡”。这神奇的命运的经纬，是上天的馈赠，更需敏锐的心智才能完成。

何其有幸，能被这神圣时刻光临，又何其有幸，拥有能力可以感知其中的奥义！她们从此为对方开启了一个与现实抗衡的新世界，这个世界美丽、神秘而隐蔽。犹如广袤的天国里突然传来启示的钟声，澒洞浩渺，恭闻一度是幸，日日敬聆是福。对她们来说，“如果此刻就能奔赴黄泉，那么此刻就是最幸福的时刻了”。

从这一刻起，她们就是照亮彼此唯一的光，也许和这冰冷残酷的现实相比，还不够暖，不够亮，可是相互慰藉已经足够。Tallie给Abigail写信说：“You are my city of joy. ”每颗受情感饱和的心都是一座小宇宙，她们就是这个宇宙的创世者。所以即使Tallie被无情终结了生命，在Abigail的小宇宙里，Tallie依然是她永世的爱人。

我从配乐响起就开始落泪，止不住，我不知道为什么唯独对这一幕念念不忘。脑海里一直在循环回放这一场景，我好像也晕晕乎乎了一整天。其实我与同性从未有过亲吻或其他爱情层面的肢体接触，当然并不一定是肌肤相亲才能产生这种ecstasy，有时候一个眼神、一个字、一句话都可以让人内心翻涌如海啸，不论取向，这种感觉是相通的。

谁不曾有过让自己辗转反侧却又无处安放的情绪？是人类的语言太匮乏，还是我太笨拙而无法定义？不管了！写完了，我去睡了，见者好梦！晚安！

2021.3.4 23:38

我也曾被给予过别无所求的馈赠。尽管取向不一，天性敏感的我对于女孩之间这种超乎性别的情感也能够深刻共情（在这个复杂的世界，我不是不懂成年人的心机和伎俩，因此真诚才会显得那么难能可贵，我得到的教益也会让我受惠终生）。不过彼时的我天真地以为，情感的理想结局应是投桃报李，因此感恩之余又常因无以为报而心怀愧疚；而如今的我已经明白：一些情绪萌生，不一定要有双向的回应，它们存在过，也许就有了着落和意义。遂释然，祝安好！

写于2021年心境豁然开朗的某天