日落黄沙

       山姆·佩金发算是一个很有才华的导演，但是无论是在指导机会上，还是在名气上都不如新好莱坞时期的其他导演。
    这是看他的第二部作品，前一部是《稻草狗》，个人感觉后一部要比这一部要好一些。两部都有他共同的风格所在，无论是从主题上恶人中的好，好人中的恶，无比残缺的世界无比残酷的我们无比悲剧的人类，还是在类型中成立独特有审美性的风格，更是在一贯的佩金发式的升格，生效的处理。
    

曾经看过很多西部片，但还是被这部电影彻底征服。

匪徒们永远是在笑着，快乐无边，而追捕他们的人则愁眉苦脸。

匪徒们道德高尚，而追捕他们的，除了那个领头的以外，全是龌龊小人。

一些细节的刻画，于无声处听惊雷。派克是头领，看不惯手下逛妓院不给钱，这时候怎么办呢？我那时候真是想不到该怎么解决。斥责下属一顿？或者当面显示自己的大度，掏钱给那个妓女？都没有。而这里也顿显了他的领袖风范，匪就要匪的霸道，不能损了匪的尊严。派克的作法简直得体到了极致，他蛮横地说：Let's go! 二匪顿了一下：Why not? 后面的情节大家自己去看吧。

尤其是在看到接近尾声的时候，派克的四侠（我宁愿称他们为四侠，而不是四盗）向你迎面走来，一步一动，真是太拽了，拽到了极点！

开头和结尾，两场枪战，震撼于前，而浪漫于后。

将军大概也是喝多了，面对四侠竟然割断了小伙子的喉管，于是开启了这场大血拼的序幕。

当四侠杀死将军的一瞬间，所有人竟然都吓呆了，那时候是如此安静，安静的可怕。

而最后的四侠，与200多人血拼，辗转反侧，妇女和儿童也参战，她们已经分不清谁好谁坏，而只知道谁是自己的族人。人类的厮杀岂不都是如此？

赏金猎人其实早就可以与他们入伙，已经是远在国境之外，带着几个无能的手下，一共59发子弹，但他因为一个承诺而不得不把自己的朋友逼进了死亡圈。二匪说：承诺？那也要看是对谁下的！对坏人下的承诺就可以不算数。但派克显然不同意这种看法。确实，我想，这也是一个哲学意义上的无解之题。对坏人做的承诺应不应该实践？我想，每个人有每个人的答案，但片中人有他自己的选择。

全片贯穿的南美音乐，以及美国西部口琴独奏，与影片风格协调一致，令人荡气回肠，一起促成了这部影片成为我心目中最好的西部片的典范。

有兴趣看西部片的同好，此片应该是必看的经典之作。

　　【前言】在一幅久远的油画还未被尘埃彻底覆盖之前，我渴望你能倾听我诉说她曾经的风华；在尝过一坛被埋于黄沙下不知多少年的老酒后，我渴望你能细品那留在舌尖下绵久的香醇；在无意中沿着一条绝迹的小道前行时，我渴望你能陪我站在一起看那一段峡谷的壮丽。在我的信念里，如果不能把这些美好与你们分享，我的朋友，对我而言这是一种罪恶。或许你会把《肖申克的救赎》、《阿甘正传》奉为一生的经典，正如在巴乔、大罗、齐达内从绿茵场黯然离去后，太多的人只能推崇着不能成为英雄的梅西、C罗，在此，我只是提供一种比较的依据，以诠释何谓真正的大师。

    野马啸，烈酒浓，斜阳孤道，西风独行——经典西部片。

 　　《日落黄沙》 导演山姆·佩金法 在大师身后诞生了一个电影新名词——暴力美学，从此一批又一批的后辈沿着大师的足迹一笔一笔地临摹：昆汀的《无耻混蛋》、盖·里奇的《两杆大烟枪》、吴宇森的《变脸》、杜琪峰的《放逐》等等等等，在此片之后再无枪战片。除此之外，一同铭记的还有那一个个苍茫遒劲的镜头，那遗弃在荒野被我们的耳朵永远录制的笑声，那一句傲视苍穹的“Why not?”，那一个黄昏下靠墙而坐的老牛仔，没有比这更能诠释何谓经典的电影了。很多中国观众感叹这部电影太像古龙小说了，大体不错，只是顺序反了，这部电影拍于1968年，68年能拍出这样的电影，已无需再言。

　　《西部往事》 导演赛尔乔·莱翁内 一生中只亲自执导了十部电影，但每部皆是旷世之作，一个算不得遗憾的遗憾是他谢绝了执导《教父》。同样拍于1968年，这部电影里给我留下强烈震撼的是两个镜头：你将见识到人类史上最残酷的绞刑，亲自“谋杀”自己的亲人；第二个镜头里你将见识到最隐秘的温情：一个浪迹荒漠的杀手和一个从良的妓女站在门前，门外是大批修建铁路的劳工，杀手说：你该提上一大桶水走到他们中间去，看到像你这样的女子对于他们而言是一件多么欢乐的事。假如有人在背后狠狠地摸了你的屁股，请假装什么事都没有发生，因为他们值得你这么做。我不知道中国要过多少代人才会拥有这样的精神，其他毋庸再提。

　　《黄金三镖客》 导演赛尔乔·莱翁内 这是镖客三部曲的第三部，另外两部是《荒野大镖客》、《黄昏双镖客》，主角都是由克林特.伊斯特伍德扮演，三部曲让伊斯特伍德在美国大紫大黑、几乎成为西部片的时代标志。此片在故事情节的处理上堪称一绝，一场角逐几次易手，谁都曾笑过，谁都曾杯具过。很久以前看过一句经典名言：人生悲喜，有时你是站在雕像上随意拉屎的鸽子，有时你就是那座雕像。你一定不会忘记的还有那荒野中三个人、三把枪的生死对决，那一组快速而梦幻的镜头精彩到无以复加，也算被西部片熏陶了一阵的我当时看完竟已是一手冷汗，把虚幻拍到如此真实、如此刺激的，非大师不足以成之。
　　
　　《虎豹小霸王》 导演乔治·罗伊·希尔 在他之前没有人会把西部片拍成这样，在他之后更不会有人能塑此经典，在看这部电影时我很自然的想到了一句评语：像一个少年清澈的诗篇。你再也找不到比这部更轻松、更诙谐的纯种西部片了，我坚信保罗骑自行车载着凯瑟琳的那段曼妙镜头曾经出现在无数个少女的梦里。在对感情的理解里，我一直认为两个男人和一个女子之间组成的爱情才是最完整、最美妙、最稳定的，这部电影也印证了这样复杂而曼妙的感情。这部电影真的太美了，美得像一个没有脱离稚气的少女的脸，那么的不真实，那么的让人心情舒畅。

　　《老无所依》 导演科恩兄弟 这是一部算不得西部片的西部片，好吧，我承认把它放进来是因为强烈的个人偏好，但有杀手、有警察、有牛仔、有一大笔不义之财，这些元素足以构成一部完整的西部片。这是我所看过的把悲剧表达得最含蓄、最凝重的电影，它与《发条橙》、《搏击俱乐部》构成了我心目中最完整的后现代启示录。这样的电影不愿解释太多，能看懂的人不需一句废话，看不懂的再解释也没用。

　　《不可饶恕》 导演克林特.伊斯特伍德 这个依靠西部片成名的演员亲自走到镜头后自导自演，但正是这个人、这部电影杀死了西部片，或者说这部电影有一个更准确的名字《西部无英雄》。曾经江湖上流传的一匹马、一条枪、一个人走进夕阳里的传说在这部电影里被彻底的撕碎，曾经快意恩仇的西部而今已是一片污秽：昔日的牛仔老态龙钟、年轻的枪手是个几乎看不见的瞎子、传说中的神枪手不是背后放冷枪的孬种便是开枪打到自己脚的莽夫，真正的杀手为了养活两个孩子被迫出山，之后便消失于江湖，世上再无他的传说。不愧是大师熏陶出来的弟子，伊斯特伍德对那个西部太熟悉了，所以毁灭起来甚为娴熟。电影里的镜头依旧苍茫，只是捉不住西风的影子了；配乐依然怀旧，只是有了煽情没了臆想。这部电影里我只喜欢两段情节：几千年前汉莫拉比法典里规定了作为人的奴隶和马的数量关系，在这部电影里一个妓女的面容和未来=七匹马，于是她们抵上了所有的积蓄雇凶复仇（我喜欢这种果决）；当至亲逝去时，把她埋在门前的树下，让她继续守望后辈的成长（这样纯朴的仪式而今已成奢望）。在豆瓣上看到很多人把这部电影定义为最好的西部片时，我黯然了很久。当大师的浪漫在弟子的现实面前轰然倒塌时，我便看到了西部片那扇锈迹斑斑的门沉重的关上，再无人能开启。一个时代一去不复返，留下的是一个个如烟花般的背影。

　　【后记】在这些经典的西部片背后还请记住一个人的名字——埃尼奥·莫里康内，大漠黄沙的西部要是少了这位大师的配乐将不知失色多少。

　　以上电影纯属个人偏好，其标准是想象力，如果一首诗剥离了想象力它只能沦为老妇干瘪的乳房，电影亦如此。中华五千年也只造就了两位诗人：一曰屈原，二曰李白。被冠以现实主义诗人的杜甫，他的很多诗句我都已记不得了，但那句“星垂平野阔，月涌大江流”我肯定自己会记住一辈子。

    胸藏辽阔，盛几斤苍茫，慰老时，摇椅孤年。

In "The Wild Bunch," violence becomes more than a vehicle through which morals are judged. Rather, it confuses the line between right and wrong, displaying conflict in a sense that is even appealing, or aesthetic. That attitude would have been unimaginable in its predecessors, where violence is more referred to than explicitly exhibited. Take "Winchester ’73" as an example: when Young Bull, the leader the Indians, spotted the legendary rifle on the back of Joe Lamont’s horse, only through the reaction of Dutch Henry do we realize the man has been killed and scalped. Would Sam Peckinpah shoot it otherwise, giving Lamont a slow motion as he is shot and falls to the ground? No longer a by-product, violence in "The Wild Bunch" is one of the cores in the film that almost stands on its own. Under earlier code of Westerns, such prominence might be considered deviant, for in the old Westerns heroism, civilization and romance reign over wildness and brutality that protagonists face. Violence, even sometimes embodied by “the good guy,” is controlled. In that sense, it is used to provide contrast to the potency of traditional virtues. Yet in "The Wild Bunch," not only is violence unleashed, but it is ameliorated, galvanized, even appreciated. The massacre at the beginning gloriously magnifies the marvel of bloodshed through shameless frontal shots, close-ups and slow motions, which few directors of Westerns before Peckinpah had used as heavily as he did. Peckinpah adds slow motion shots of victims to the typical “shoot-and-fall” dialogic gunshot scenes in old Westerns, the effect of which is enhanced by Technicolor, which allows more realistic and shocking images of blood squirting from every body part possible.
Coupled with moral ambiguity, violence furthers the sense of mayhem. The short parallel between the bunch in soldier attire and South Texas Temperance Union stand at opposite ends of the moral scale: one stringent, abiding and adamant, the other rampant, defiant and savage. Contrary to the obvious moral choices that old Westerns give us, neither instantly appeals more. The moral ambiguity that Peckinpah deliberately sets up is made more salient when we see the Deke Thornton’s bounty hunters. Though representing “the law,” the reckless and egocentric bounty hunters could not be further from any protagonists in the old Westerns. Merely five minutes into the film, such opening sequence challenges our traditional views and attitudes. Does such situation justify the ensuing violence? Not quite, but by eliminating apparent sides to root for, violent itself grabs our attention. The opening sequence well indicates the complexity of the film, which evolved from the Western prototype to include a more realistic portrayal, one that is imperfect yet closer to life, one that invites diverse reactions and opinions rather than simple cheers for the charming lead such as John Wayne in "Stagecoach" or Montgomery Clift in "Red River." The space "The Wild Bunch" creates for audience reactions is essentially what sets it apart, for the film does not provide answers but questions.
Violence culminates in the grand ending, and precisely the fact that it incurs thrill knocks the audience off their feet. Yet the violence here has gained a different standing. Comradeship and loyalty justify their intent to kill to a degree that we are eager to witness the great massacre that is about to take place. We anxiously wait as the four members of the bunch gradually fill up the frame and stop, their eyes on the target. Anticipation hits its peak when the silence of shock takes place after they kill the general. Then when the massacre begins, our attitude is no different from that of watching a classic gun-shooting climax, only this time with more fury, excitement and emotional turmoil. On the presentation of this massacre sequence, Alexandros Dionosopoulos commented, “The massive use of artillery blows people away. It is stunning.” Unwittingly, his off-the-cuff pun captures the two main aspects of heavy violence: it is a concoction of beauty and disturbance. In a similar manner of the opening sequence, Peckinpah uses quick montage and slow motion to build a landscape of brutality that rivals an epic battle, intertwining visual effects with explosive sonic experience. Desensitized by gore and corpses by this point, we are swept by a swirl of hunger for deconstruction and vengeance. Such liberty probably disturbs us more than the actual slaughter, for the final scene is our getaway from decorum and civility in favor of primitive eye-for-an-eye responses. This is wilderness in its truest sense, not in aiguilles and dunes, but in unchained desires. It is ironic, therefore, to observe how noble loyalty translates into barbarian actions.
"The Wild Bunch" inherits the legacy of Westerns by discussing the clash between wilderness and civilization and the effects it has, one that ultimately has less to do with challenges at the frontier but universal struggle with darker instincts. Peckinpah probably sees this step as necessary, as by the year 1968 the film was made, Westerns were facing a different audience. Typified by Clint Eastwood movies, Spaghetti Westerns reached their peak of popularity. Characterized by low-budget production, foreign locale, and highly fluid and minimalist cinematography[1], Spaghetti Westerns watered down the conventions and cultural paradigms that old Westerns have. Foreign directors and producers, mostly Spaniards or Italians who gave name to the term, reformed the genre through their own lens. Part of the change had to do with pragmatic concerns, such as using a more straightforward cinematographic style due to limited resources. Yet the difference in cultural backgrounds gave rise to the demystification, loss of previously well-defined morality, and increased violence in Spaghetti Westerns, central elements that "The Wild Bunch" undoubtedly assimilates and intensifies.
So why did Peckinpah bullet "The Wild Bunch" with such graphic violence? One argument can be found at the very beginning of the film. We see scorpions besieged by a huge group of ants. The scorpions, though much stronger than any single ant, are defenseless against the vehement attack of the ants. As the ants start devouring the now powerless scorpions, the camera pulls back to reveal the manipulators: a group of children. They smile, laugh and watch attentively, oblivious to such cruelty. The low-angle close-up shots of individual kids against the clear blue sky enhanced the sense of innocence and joy, which drastically contrasts with the violence that is taking place in front of their eyes. The effect almost frightens us more than the actual bloodshed that follows because of the apathy shown in children. Peckinpah seems to points to the possible violent nature of us, or how vulnerable we can be once violence is prevalent in a society. Therefore, it becomes necessary for him to give the film a rough edge, showing what is raw, realistic, rather than the larger-than-life old Westerns of which the values and visions eclipse the ugly side of frontier status quo. Violence in "The Wild Bunch" then becomes a statement itself, suggesting the incorrigibly violent tendency of humans.
Another possibility is the cathartic effect. Commenting on the seductiveness and horror of violence, Peckinpah said:

"The point of the film is to take this façade of movie violence and open it up, get people involved in it so that they are starting to go in it so that they are starting to go in the Hollywood television predicable reaction syndrome, and then twist it so that it’s not fun anymore, just a wave of sickness in the gut…It’s ugly, brutalizing, and bloody fucking awful. It’s not fun and games and cowboys and Indians. It’s a terrible, ugly thing. And yet there’s a certain response that you get from it, an excitement because we’re all violent people." [2]

By injecting a huge dose of violence, Peckinpah provides the audience with a dark picture of their instincts so that they would be able to curb or even purge the violence in them by getting sick of it. Produced and released during the Vietnam War, "The Wild Bunch" conveys Peckinpah’s intention to guide audience through rediscovery, recognition and disgust of violence. Yet the controversial work causes some to entirely refuse the merit of the movie and others to delve into the orgasm of bloodbath, both seen in the reactions of the general public when the movie was released. In that regard, Peckinpah is less successful.
At the onset of the robbery in the opening sequence, Pike Bishop ordered his comrades to keep workers at the post office under control: “If they move, kill ’em!” The close-up of his ruthless, convictive and uber-masculine face froze to a ragged, tough-texture image like the ones on “Wanted” posters, to the left of which is the name “Sam Peckinpah” in big betters. This seems to suggest Peckinpah’s definitive role in the violence presented in the film, as well as the mix of appeal and atrocity that it incurs. Though its use remains controversial to this day, violence in "The Wild Bunch" plays such a prominent role that no one can walk away neglecting the effect it has on the watching experience.
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[1] Tim Dirks, Westerns Films - Sergio Leone’s “Spaghetti” Westerns, 2010, http://www.filmsite.org/westernfilms5.html. Retrieved 03/27/2010.
[2] David Weddle, If They Move... Kill Em!: The Life and Times of Sam Peckinpah (Grove Press, 2001), 334.