Just because they made such intense and unsettling films didn't mean that the directors in swinging London or, a few years later in 1970s Hollywood, were going to live austere and monastic lives. Of course, they did quite the reverse. Polish director Jerzy Skolimowski, who met Polanski in film school and co-scripted his first feature Knife in the Water (1962) recently testified how startling it was for young film-makers from the communist-era Soviet bloc to experience life in late 1960s London. Skolimowski came to the city when his film Bariera (1966) was in the London Film Festival. He stayed in the Savoy Hotel. Polkanski took him around him the town.
"Roman was living in Belgravia. I was very impressed with his situation," Skolimowski recalls. "Roman introduced me a little bit to the London scene. He explained to me what was the King's Road." Polanski even took him to the Playboy Club, where he met Victor Lowndes. "It was quite an event for a young man. Suddenly, I was on a dance floor with those bunnies. As a young man, I had a wild life – as Roman did too. We were quite similar in our adventures."
It was the austerity of their backgrounds combined with their rebellious nature and the sheer wealth of temptation on offer that led so many other directors, too, to behave so wildly. There was something epic and even heroic about their self-abuse. There was also a sense of an Oedipal struggle. They often had distrust and contempt for their paymasters, who belonged to a different era in Hollywood, and saw it as a point of honour never to conform or obey.
Much that has been written about the 1970s has been wilfully exaggerated. Friedkin has complained that Easy Riders, Raging Bulls was based on "garbage and dirt" and "the ravings of ex-girlfriends and ex-wives." You're often aware that the biographers and even the protagonists themselves are engaged in a myth-making process. All those stories about Sam Peckinpah's misdeeds or Hal Ashby's drug-taking and erratic behaviour seem juiced up. When Julia Phillips goes to quite such lengths to tell us what was in her system the night she won an Oscar for The Sting, you can't help but ask how she can remember all the pharmaceutical details when she was quite so "high."
British writer Lucretia Stewart recently described how, when she was a schoolgirl in the late 1960s, it was fashionable "not just to admire Nabokov's Lolita... as a work of art but also to embrace it wholeheartedly, to regard it as exemplary." Stewart wrote of teenage British schoolgirls playing the nymphet to predatory, Humbert Humbert-like older men without quite realising what they were doing. This is the theme of Lone Scherfig's excellent and strangely melancholy new film, An Education, based on Lynn Barber's hugely enjoyable childhood memoirs.
朗史菲格作品如【二手書之戀】(Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself, 2002)【戀愛學分保證班】(Italian for Beginners/ Dogme # 12 - Italiensk for begyndere, 2000)
It's a long way from the 1970s Hollywood of Polanski, Robert Evans, Jack Nicholson and Co to the early 1960s London suburbs shown in Scherfig's film. What the film captures, though, is the excitement, pathos and ultimately extreme seediness of the precocious schoolgirl's affair with the older, ostensibly much more experienced man. The irony is that the older man (played by Peter Sarsgaard) is really the naive one. Viewers are likely to ask how on Earth he thought he was going to get away with it, as they watch him pick up the teenage girl at the bus-stop. It's the same question that could be asked of the satyr-like 1970s Hollywood figures who often seemed to think that they had their own special licences to transgress.
從波蘭斯基，羅伯伊凡，傑克尼克遜等同黨的七零年代好萊塢，到史菲格電影裡六零早期英倫近郊是條漫漫長路。這電影捕捉了早熟少女交融年長男子那香豔刺激，憐憫感傷與不可自拔之淫穢下流。諷刺的是，該年長男子 (彼得塞斯嘉飾) 才是天真小羅莉。觀眾只想問他在公車站邂逅少女時，怎麼會覺得自己能夠全身而退。同樣的問題也可以應用在那些自認有獨門絕技違法犯紀的好萊塢七零年代登徒子。
Ironically, the best book about 1970s Hollywood isn't really to do with sex and drugs at all. David McClintick's Indecent Exposure: A True Story of Hollywood and Wall Street isn't about Jack Nicholson or Roman Polanski. Instead, it tells the grim and utterly compelling story of Columbia Studio boss David Begelman. A former talent agent who had represented Judy Garland, Begelman was an inveterate gambler. He was popular and successful. With him at the helm, Columbia enjoyed big successes with movies like Shampoo and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Begelman had everything – status, money, power. He was even well-liked. The only problem was that he was a crook of the first order. His long and slow downfall, which ended with his suicide in a Los Angeles hotel in 1995, started when he was caught forging cheques for relatively insignificant amounts and embezzling money from actor Cliff Robertson. When Robertson complained, it was the actor who was vilified. Hollywood closed ranks around Begelman and Robertson was blacklisted.
What was fascinating about the Begelman story, expertly told by Wall Street Journal investigative reporter McClintick, is the way it shows graft and corruption as being endemic in Hollywood. A little embezzlement and forgery are seen as very minor misdemeanours. The Hollywood community reacts with disdain to what it clearly sees as petty score-settling by dreary-minded reporters and disgruntled actors. If a studio boss wants to steal, why shouldn't he? If a film-maker takes a shine to a starlet, that goes with the territory too.
settle a score
"The occasional embezzlement, fraud, cheating, and chiselling – serious as they are – constitute symptoms of a more pervasive and subtle corruption, a corruption that is more difficult to combat than outright theft," McClintick writes in conclusion. "It is the corruption of power and arrogance... the corruption that inevitably pervades a large and glamorous institution when that institution is tightly controlled by a handful of people, and thousands upon thousands of other people are clamouring for entry."
McClintick is writing about Hollywood of the 1970s but his language is eerily familiar to that found in Polanski's Chinatown (1974), a film with incest and corruption at the core.
In 1970s Hollywood, the battle-lines were more complicated than they first seemed. The Easy Rider generation, disgusted by the Watergate scandal and the Vietnam War, wasn't interested in graft and embezzlement. This seemingly was the province of an older generation. Begelman may have flourished in the "new Hollywood" but his roots harked back to earlier showbusiness times. The wild living of the younger film-makers who came to prominence in the 1970s was, surely, at least partly motivated by their desire to show their disdain for the conservative old-style studio executives and corporate officers.
It was inevitable that the new Hollywood would be short-lived. Peter Biskind's book has a final chapter titled "We Blew It" in reference to a famous line from Easy Rider. The combination of profligate spending and profligate living helped sabotage the Hollywood careers of Coppola, Michael Cimino, Polanski et al. Their hubris was self-evident, whether it was the belief that they could do what they liked on screen, whatever the expense, or behave how they liked off-screen, whatever the cost in broken lives.
We, the public, were complicit too. Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired makes it very apparent that the abusive excesses of the film-makers of the era were more than matched by the equally seamy behaviour of the media and judicial system. This, in turn, was fuelled by the public's appetite for hearing the dirt. The double-standards are astonishing. As has again become evident in the last week, we love to hear this stuff. We still buy into the idea that 1970s Hollywood was as close as the 20th Century came to Nero or Caligula's Rome. Our disapproval comes tinged with prurient curiosity. Right-wing commentators relish dredging up old misdeeds in all their grisly detail so that they can wax indignant about them all over again. We won't let the fact that a corrupt judge broke his word or that much of the reporting at the time (and since) was wildly inaccurate get in the way. Our minds about 1970s Hollywood were made up a long time ago, and we're not going to change them now.
Roman Polanski (right) in 1971 with Playboy empire owner Hugh Hefner and actress Francesa Annis. Hefner sponsored Polanski's film Macbeth, which starred Annis.
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Scorsese, Allen, Aronofsky, Mendes, Nichols, Soderbergh, Rushdie, Almodovar, Cuaron, Demme, Gilliam, Schnabel, Wong, Lynch, Swinton, Tykwer, Jordan, Schnabel, Frears
Rosamund Pike (左) 美歸美，就是敗在那張老臉呀！自以為丹妮芙 look。
名媛教育 An Education
95 min. 2008
Carey Mulligan ... Jenny
Olivia Williams ... Miss Stubbs
Alfred Molina ... Jack
Peter Sarsgaard ... David
Rosamund Pike ... Helen
Emma Thompson ... Headmistress
"You've got me wrapped around your little finger"
by Beth Rowley!!!
Carey Mulligan (dress by J. Mendel, earrings by Lee Angel)
Kristen Stewart (dress by Blumarine, shoes by Pedro Garcia, watch by Jaeger-LeCoultre)
Abbie Cornish (dress by Dior, shoes by Aldo, earrings by David Yurman, bracelet by Cartier)
Mia Wasikowska (dress by Luisa Beccaria, earrings by David Yurman)
Amanda Seyfried (dress by Chado Ralph Rucci, earrings by Beladora)
Rebecca Hall (dress by Dior, shoes by Vera Wang, earrings by Beladora)
Emma Stone (dress by J. Mendel, shoes by Manolo Blahnik, earrings by David Yurman)
Evan Rachel Wood (dress by Dior, earrings by Cartier, bracelet by David Yurman)
Anna Kendrick (dress by J. Mendel, shoes by Pedro Garcia, earrings by Beladora, ring by David Yurman).