深坑、钟摆和希望 Kyvadlo, jáma a nadeje(1983)
简介：
- 动画改编自爱伦·坡的《坑与钟摆》，在动画中黑白色调、触感强烈的世界里，一个面无表情、不近人情的审问者走近一个被困住的人。
演员：
影评：
略涉情节，未观者自重，莫怪我打破水晶。
改编自爱伦坡短篇小说，深阱与钟摆。如果事前已读过小说，自然不会有撞破spoiler扫了兴致的危险；但坡到底不是欧亨利，哪怕情节泄漏无遗，也都无伤阅读快感。读者只好似坠入梦魇，挣不脱，逃不开，全神贯注，不会因为旁人断喝“明知是个梦”便蓦然大悟了的。
原名The Pit and the Pendulum，史云梅耶给它按上希望（Hope）的尾巴，却生生颠倒了希望的结局。原著中异教审判所(The Inquisition)终被攻破，生死一线间，主人翁得到好莱坞式的拯救：跌落深谷前一瞬，被超人的有力臂膀打捞上来，回到人间。而电影中，主角千辛万苦逃出火坑，却又跌落油镬：隧道尽头，站立在他面前的，仍是片头身披斗篷的死神。惊惶之中，他又一次昏厥，影片则再一次轮回。史云梅耶是受不了大团圆结局的。
延伸阅读：
1, 深阱与钟摆，爱伦坡，原文：
2, Pit and the Pendulum(US, 1961年) Roger Corman导演。
3, Zánik domu Usheru (1981)
...aka The Fall of the House of Usher
史云梅耶另一部由坡的故事改编作品。
4, 福尔摩斯探案之冒险史，工程师大拇指案
问题：
1，电影开幕引用坡的文字是那一段？请捷克语专家释疑。
2，印象里有一则黑店故事，类似上文福尔摩斯案，但以房客第一人称叙述。最后机敏的房客发现机关，破窗爬水管逃脱。有人读过么？- The Pit and the Pendulum
by Edgar Allan Poe
(published 1850)
Impia tortorum longos hic turba furores
Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit.
Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro,
Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque patent.
[Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be erected upon the site of the Jacobin Club House at Paris.]
I WAS sick -- sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence -- the dread sentence of death -- was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution -- perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white -- whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words -- and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness -- of immoveable resolution -- of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe.
I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber -- no! In delirium -- no! In a swoon -- no! In death -- no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound of slumbers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed. In the return to life from the swoon there are two stages; first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual; secondly, that of the sense of physical, existence. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond. And that gulf is -- what? How at least shall we distinguish its shadows from those of the tomb? But if the impressions of what I have termed the first stage, are not, at will, recalled, yet, after long interval, do they not come unbidden, while we marvel whence they come? He who has never swooned, is not he who finds strange palaces and wildly familiar faces in coals that glow; is not he who beholds floating in mid-air the sad visions that the many may not view; is not he who ponders over the perfume of some novel flower -- is not he whose brain grows bewildered with the meaning of some musical cadence which has never before arrested his attention.
Amid frequent and thoughtful endeavors to remember; amid earnest struggles to regather some token of the state of seeming nothingness into which my soul had lapsed, there have been moments when I have dreamed of success; there have been brief, very brief periods when I have conjured up remembrances which the lucid reason of a later epoch assures me could have had reference only to that condition of seeming unconsciousness. These shadows of memory tell, indistinctly, of tall figures that lifted and bore me in silence down -- down -- still down -- till a hideous dizziness oppressed me at the mere idea of the interminableness of the descent. They tell also of a vague horror at my heart, on account of that heart's unnatural stillness. Then comes a sense of sudden motionlessness throughout all things; as if those who bore me (a ghastly train!) had outrun, in their descent, the limits of the limitless, and paused from the wearisomeness of their toil. After this I call to mind flatness and dampness; and then all is madness -- the madness of a memory which busies itself among forbidden things.
Very suddenly there came back to my soul motion and sound -- the tumultuous motion of the heart, and, in my ears, the sound of its beating. Then a pause in which all is blank. Then again sound, and motion, and touch -- a tingling sensation pervading my frame. Then the mere consciousness of existence, without thought -- a condition which lasted long. Then, very suddenly, thought, and shuddering terror, and earnest endeavor to comprehend my true state. Then a strong desire to lapse into insensibility. Then a rushing revival of soul and a successful effort to move. And now a full memory of the trial, of the judges, of the sable draperies, of the sentence, of the sickness, of the swoon. Then entire forgetfulness of all that followed; of all that a later day and much earnestness of endeavor have enabled me vaguely to recall.
So far, I had not opened my eyes. I felt that I lay upon my back, unbound. I reached out my hand, and it fell heavily upon something damp and hard. There I suffered it to remain for many minutes, while I strove to imagine where and what I could be. I longed, yet dared not to employ my vision. I dreaded the first glance at objects around me. It was not that I feared to look upon things horrible, but that I grew aghast lest there should be nothing to see. At length, with a wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes. My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me. I struggled for breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to oppress and stifle me. The atmosphere was intolerably close. I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise my reason. I brought to mind the inquisitorial proceedings, and attempted from that point to deduce my real condition. The sentence had passed; and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed. Yet not for a moment did I suppose myself actually dead. Such a supposition, notwithstanding what we read in fiction, is altogether inconsistent with real existence; -- but where and in what state was I? The condemned to death, I knew, perished usually at the autos-da-fe, and one of these had been held on the very night of the day of my trial. Had I been remanded to my dungeon, to await the next sacrifice, which would not take place for many months? This I at once saw could not be. Victims had been in immediate demand. Moreover, my dungeon, as well as all the condemned cells at Toledo, had stone floors, and light was not altogether excluded.
A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period, I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fibre. I thrust my arms wildly above and around me in all directions. I felt nothing; yet dreaded to move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls of a tomb. Perspiration burst from every pore, and stood in cold big beads upon my forehead. The agony of suspense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved forward, with my arms extended, and my eyes straining from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint ray of light. I proceeded for many paces; but still all was blackness and vacancy. I breathed more freely. It seemed evident that mine was not, at least, the most hideous of fates.
And now, as I still continued to step cautiously onward, there came thronging upon my recollection a thousand vague rumors of the horrors of Toledo. Of the dungeons there had been strange things narrated -- fables I had always deemed them -- but yet strange, and too ghastly to repeat, save in a whisper. Was I left to perish of starvation in this subterranean world of darkness; or what fate, perhaps even more fearful, awaited me? That the result would be death, and a death of more than customary bitterness, I knew too well the character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the hour were all that occupied or distracted me.
My outstretched hands at length encountered some solid obstruction. It was a wall, seemingly of stone masonry -- very smooth, slimy, and cold. I followed it up; stepping with all the careful distrust with which certain antique narratives had inspired me. This process, however, afforded me no means of ascertaining the dimensions of my dungeon; as I might make its circuit, and return to the point whence I set out, without being aware of the fact; so perfectly uniform seemed the wall. I therefore sought the knife which had been in my pocket, when led into the inquisitorial chamber; but it was gone; my clothes had been exchanged for a wrapper of coarse serge. I had thought of forcing the blade in some minute crevice of the masonry, so as to identify my point of departure. The difficulty, nevertheless, was but trivial; although, in the disorder of my fancy, it seemed at first insuperable. I tore a part of the hem from the robe and placed the fragment at full length, and at right angles to the wall. In groping my way around the prison, I could not fail to encounter this rag upon completing the circuit. So, at least I thought: but I had not counted upon the extent of the dungeon, or upon my own weakness. The ground was moist and slippery. I staggered onward for some time, when I stumbled and fell. My excessive fatigue induced me to remain prostrate; and sleep soon overtook me as I lay.
Upon awaking, and stretching forth an arm, I found beside me a loaf and a pitcher with water. I was too much exhausted to reflect upon this circumstance, but ate and drank with avidity. Shortly afterward, I resumed my tour around the prison, and with much toil came at last upon the fragment of the serge. Up to the period when I fell I had counted fifty-two paces, and upon resuming my walk, I had counted forty-eight more; -- when I arrived at the rag. There were in all, then, a hundred paces; and, admitting two paces to the yard, I presumed the dungeon to be fifty yards in circuit. I had met, however, with many angles in the wall, and thus I could form no guess at the shape of the vault; for vault I could not help supposing it to be.
I had little object -- certainly no hope these researches; but a vague curiosity prompted me to continue them. Quitting the wall, I resolved to cross the area of the enclosure. At first I proceeded with extreme caution, for the floor, although seemingly of solid material, was treacherous with slime. At length, however, I took courage, and did not hesitate to step firmly; endeavoring to cross in as direct a line as possible. I had advanced some ten or twelve paces in this manner, when the remnant of the torn hem of my robe became entangled between my legs. I stepped on it, and fell violently on my face.
In the confusion attending my fall, I did not immediately apprehend a somewhat startling circumstance, which yet, in a few seconds afterward, and while I still lay prostrate, arrested my attention. It was this -- my chin rested upon the floor of the prison, but my lips and the upper portion of my head, although seemingly at a less elevation than the chin, touched nothing. At the same time my forehead seemed bathed in a clammy vapor, and the peculiar smell of decayed fungus arose to my nostrils. I put forward my arm, and shuddered to find that I had fallen at the very brink of a circular pit, whose extent, of course, I had no means of ascertaining at the moment. Groping about the masonry just below the margin, I succeeded in dislodging a small fragment, and let it fall into the abyss. For many seconds I hearkened to its reverberations as it dashed against the sides of the chasm in its descent; at length there was a sullen plunge into water, succeeded by loud echoes. At the same moment there came a sound resembling the quick opening, and as rapid closing of a door overhead, while a faint gleam of light flashed suddenly through the gloom, and as suddenly faded away.
I saw clearly the doom which had been prepared for me, and congratulated myself upon the timely accident by which I had escaped. Another step before my fall, and the world had seen me no more. And the death just avoided, was of that very character which I had regarded as fabulous and frivolous in the tales respecting the Inquisition. To the victims of its tyranny, there was the choice of death with its direst physical agonies, or death with its most hideous moral horrors. I had been reserved for the latter. By long suffering my nerves had been unstrung, until I trembled at the sound of my own voice, and had become in every respect a fitting subject for the species of torture which awaited me.
Shaking in every limb, I groped my way back to the wall; resolving there to perish rather than risk the terrors of the wells, of which my imagination now pictured many in various positions about the dungeon. In other conditions of mind I might have had courage to end my misery at once by a plunge into one of these abysses; but now I was the veriest of cowards. Neither could I forget what I had read of these pits -- that the sudden extinction of life formed no part of their most horrible plan.
Agitation of spirit kept me awake for many long hours; but at length I again slumbered. Upon arousing, I found by my side, as before, a loaf and a pitcher of water. A burning thirst consumed me, and I emptied the vessel at a draught. It must have been drugged; for scarcely had I drunk, before I became irresistibly drowsy. A deep sleep fell upon me -- a sleep like that of death. How long it lasted of course, I know not; but when, once again, I unclosed my eyes, the objects around me were visible. By a wild sulphurous lustre, the origin of which I could not at first determine, I was enabled to see the extent and aspect of the prison.
In its size I had been greatly mistaken. The whole circuit of its walls did not exceed twenty-five yards. For some minutes this fact occasioned me a world of vain trouble; vain indeed! for what could be of less importance, under the terrible circumstances which environed me, then the mere dimensions of my dungeon? But my soul took a wild interest in trifles, and I busied myself in endeavors to account for the error I had committed in my measurement. The truth at length flashed upon me. In my first attempt at exploration I had counted fifty-two paces, up to the period when I fell; I must then have been within a pace or two of the fragment of serge; in fact, I had nearly performed the circuit of the vault. I then slept, and upon awaking, I must have returned upon my steps -- thus supposing the circuit nearly double what it actually was. My confusion of mind prevented me from observing that I began my tour with the wall to the left, and ended it with the wall to the right.
I had been deceived, too, in respect to the shape of the enclosure. In feeling my way I had found many angles, and thus deduced an idea of great irregularity; so potent is the effect of total darkness upon one arousing from lethargy or sleep! The angles were simply those of a few slight depressions, or niches, at odd intervals. The general shape of the prison was square. What I had taken for masonry seemed now to be iron, or some other metal, in huge plates, whose sutures or joints occasioned the depression. The entire surface of this metallic enclosure was rudely daubed in all the hideous and repulsive devices to which the charnel superstition of the monks has given rise. The figures of fiends in aspects of menace, with skeleton forms, and other more really fearful images, overspread and disfigured the walls. I observed that the outlines of these monstrosities were sufficiently distinct, but that the colors seemed faded and blurred, as if from the effects of a damp atmosphere. I now noticed the floor, too, which was of stone. In the centre yawned the circular pit from whose jaws I had escaped; but it was the only one in the dungeon.
All this I saw indistinctly and by much effort: for my personal condition had been greatly changed during slumber. I now lay upon my back, and at full length, on a species of low framework of wood. To this I was securely bound by a long strap resembling a surcingle. It passed in many convolutions about my limbs and body, leaving at liberty only my head, and my left arm to such extent that I could, by dint of much exertion, supply myself with food from an earthen dish which lay by my side on the floor. I saw, to my horror, that the pitcher had been removed. I say to my horror; for I was consumed with intolerable thirst. This thirst it appeared to be the design of my persecutors to stimulate: for the food in the dish was meat pungently seasoned.
Looking upward, I surveyed the ceiling of my prison. It was some thirty or forty feet overhead, and constructed much as the side walls. In one of its panels a very singular figure riveted my whole attention. It was the painted figure of Time as he is commonly represented, save that, in lieu of a scythe, he held what, at a casual glance, I supposed to be the pictured image of a huge pendulum such as we see on antique clocks. There was something, however, in the appearance of this machine which caused me to regard it more attentively. While I gazed directly upward at it (for its position was immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an instant afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but more in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its dull movement, I turned my eyes upon the other objects in the cell.
A slight noise attracted my notice, and, looking to the floor, I saw several enormous rats traversing it. They had issued from the well, which lay just within view to my right. Even then, while I gazed, they came up in troops, hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by the scent of the meat. From this it required much effort and attention to scare them away.
It might have been half an hour, perhaps even an hour, (for in cast my I could take but imperfect note of time) before I again cast my eyes upward. What I then saw confounded and amazed me. The sweep of the pendulum had increased in extent by nearly a yard. As a natural consequence, its velocity was also much greater. But what mainly disturbed me was the idea that had perceptibly descended. I now observed -- with what horror it is needless to say -- that its nether extremity was formed of a crescent of glittering steel, about a foot in length from horn to horn; the horns upward, and the under edge evidently as keen as that of a razor. Like a razor also, it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from the edge into a solid and broad structure above. It was appended to a weighty rod of brass, and the whole hissed as it swung through the air.
I could no longer doubt the doom prepared for me by monkish ingenuity in torture. My cognizance of the pit had become known to the inquisitorial agents -- the pit whose horrors had been destined for so bold a recusant as myself -- the pit, typical of hell, and regarded by rumor as the Ultima Thule of all their punishments. The plunge into this pit I had avoided by the merest of accidents, I knew that surprise, or entrapment into torment, formed an important portion of all the grotesquerie of these dungeon deaths. Having failed to fall, it was no part of the demon plan to hurl me into the abyss; and thus (there being no alternative) a different and a milder destruction awaited me. Milder! I half smiled in my agony as I thought of such application of such a term.
What boots it to tell of the long, long hours of horror more than mortal, during which I counted the rushing vibrations of the steel! Inch by inch -- line by line -- with a descent only appreciable at intervals that seemed ages -- down and still down it came! Days passed -- it might have been that many days passed -- ere it swept so closely over me as to fan me with its acrid breath. The odor of the sharp steel forced itself into my nostrils. I prayed -- I wearied heaven with my prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. And then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling at the glittering death, as a child at some rare bauble.
There was another interval of utter insensibility; it was brief; for, upon again lapsing into life there had been no perceptible descent in the pendulum. But it might have been long; for I knew there were demons who took note of my swoon, and who could have arrested the vibration at pleasure. Upon my recovery, too, I felt very -- oh, inexpressibly sick and weak, as if through long inanition. Even amid the agonies of that period, the human nature craved food. With painful effort I outstretched my left arm as far as my bonds permitted, and took possession of the small remnant which had been spared me by the rats. As I put a portion of it within my lips, there rushed to my mind a half formed thought of joy -- of hope. Yet what business had I with hope? It was, as I say, a half formed thought -- man has many such which are never completed. I felt that it was of joy -- of hope; but felt also that it had perished in its formation. In vain I struggled to perfect -- to regain it. Long suffering had nearly annihilated all my ordinary powers of mind. I was an imbecile -- an idiot.
The vibration of the pendulum was at right angles to my length. I saw that the crescent was designed to cross the region of the heart. It would fray the serge of my robe -- it would return and repeat its operations -- again -- and again. Notwithstanding terrifically wide sweep (some thirty feet or more) and the hissing vigor of its descent, sufficient to sunder these very walls of iron, still the fraying of my robe would be all that, for several minutes, it would accomplish. And at this thought I paused. I dared not go farther than this reflection. I dwelt upon it with a pertinacity of attention -- as if, in so dwelling, I could arrest here the descent of the steel. I forced myself to ponder upon the sound of the crescent as it should pass across the garment -- upon the peculiar thrilling sensation which the friction of cloth produces on the nerves. I pondered upon all this frivolity until my teeth were on edge.
Down -- steadily down it crept. I took a frenzied pleasure in contrasting its downward with its lateral velocity. To the right -- to the left -- far and wide -- with the shriek of a damned spirit; to my heart with the stealthy pace of the tiger! I alternately laughed and howled as the one or the other idea grew predominant.
Down -- certainly, relentlessly down! It vibrated within three inches of my bosom! I struggled violently, furiously, to free my left arm. This was free only from the elbow to the hand. I could reach the latter, from the platter beside me, to my mouth, with great effort, but no farther. Could I have broken the fastenings above the elbow, I would have seized and attempted to arrest the pendulum. I might as well have attempted to arrest an avalanche!
Down -- still unceasingly -- still inevitably down! I gasped and struggled at each vibration. I shrunk convulsively at its every sweep. My eyes followed its outward or upward whirls with the eagerness of the most unmeaning despair; they closed themselves spasmodically at the descent, although death would have been a relief, oh! how unspeakable! Still I quivered in every nerve to think how slight a sinking of the machinery would precipitate that keen, glistening axe upon my bosom. It was hope that prompted the nerve to quiver -- the frame to shrink. It was hope -- the hope that triumphs on the rack -- that whispers to the death-condemned even in the dungeons of the Inquisition.
I saw that some ten or twelve vibrations would bring the steel in actual contact with my robe, and with this observation there suddenly came over my spirit all the keen, collected calmness of despair. For the first time during many hours -- or perhaps days -- I thought. It now occurred to me that the bandage, or surcingle, which enveloped me, was unique. I was tied by no separate cord. The first stroke of the razorlike crescent athwart any portion of the band, would so detach it that it might be unwound from my person by means of my left hand. But how fearful, in that case, the proximity of the steel! The result of the slightest struggle how deadly! Was it likely, moreover, that the minions of the torturer had not foreseen and provided for this possibility! Was it probable that the bandage crossed my bosom in the track of the pendulum? Dreading to find my faint, and, as it seemed, in last hope frustrated, I so far elevated my head as to obtain a distinct view of my breast. The surcingle enveloped my limbs and body close in all directions -- save in the path of the destroying crescent.
Scarcely had I dropped my head back into its original position, when there flashed upon my mind what I cannot better describe than as the unformed half of that idea of deliverance to which I have previously alluded, and of which a moiety only floated indeterminately through my brain when I raised food to my burning lips. The whole thought was now present -- feeble, scarcely sane, scarcely definite, -- but still entire. I proceeded at once, with the nervous energy of despair, to attempt its execution.
For many hours the immediate vicinity of the low framework upon which I lay, had been literally swarming with rats. They were wild, bold, ravenous; their red eyes glaring upon me as if they waited but for motionlessness on my part to make me their prey. "To what food," I thought, "have they been accustomed in the well?"
They had devoured, in spite of all my efforts to prevent them, all but a small remnant of the contents of the dish. I had fallen into an habitual see-saw, or wave of the hand about the platter: and, at length, the unconscious uniformity of the movement deprived it of effect. In their voracity the vermin frequently fastened their sharp fangs in my fingers. With the particles of the oily and spicy viand which now remained, I thoroughly rubbed the bandage wherever I could reach it; then, raising my hand from the floor, I lay breathlessly still.
At first the ravenous animals were startled and terrified at the change -- at the cessation of movement. They shrank alarmedly back; many sought the well. But this was only for a moment. I had not counted in vain upon their voracity. Observing that I remained without motion, one or two of the boldest leaped upon the frame-work, and smelt at the surcingle. This seemed the signal for a general rush. Forth from the well they hurried in fresh troops. They clung to the wood -- they overran it, and leaped in hundreds upon my person. The measured movement of the pendulum disturbed them not at all. Avoiding its strokes they busied themselves with the anointed bandage. They pressed -- they swarmed upon me in ever accumulating heaps. They writhed upon my throat; their cold lips sought my own; I was half stifled by their thronging pressure; disgust, for which the world has no name, swelled my bosom, and chilled, with a heavy clamminess, my heart. Yet one minute, and I felt that the struggle would be over. Plainly I perceived the loosening of the bandage. I knew that in more than one place it must be already severed. With a more than human resolution I lay still.
Nor had I erred in my calculations -- nor had I endured in vain. I at length felt that I was free. The surcingle hung in ribands from my body. But the stroke of the pendulum already pressed upon my bosom. It had divided the serge of the robe. It had cut through the linen beneath. Twice again it swung, and a sharp sense of pain shot through every nerve. But the moment of escape had arrived. At a wave of my hand my deliverers hurried tumultuously away. With a steady movement -- cautious, sidelong, shrinking, and slow -- I slid from the embrace of the bandage and beyond the reach of the scimitar. For the moment, at least, I was free.
Free! -- and in the grasp of the Inquisition! I had scarcely stepped from my wooden bed of horror upon the stone floor of the prison, when the motion of the hellish machine ceased and I beheld it drawn up, by some invisible force, through the ceiling. This was a lesson which I took desperately to heart. My every motion was undoubtedly watched. Free! -- I had but escaped death in one form of agony, to be delivered unto worse than death in some other. With that thought I rolled my eves nervously around on the barriers of iron that hemmed me in. Something unusual -- some change which, at first, I could not appreciate distinctly -- it was obvious, had taken place in the apartment. For many minutes of a dreamy and trembling abstraction, I busied myself in vain, unconnected conjecture. During this period, I became aware, for the first time, of the origin of the sulphurous light which illumined the cell. It proceeded from a fissure, about half an inch in width, extending entirely around the prison at the base of the walls, which thus appeared, and were, completely separated from the floor. I endeavored, but of course in vain, to look through the aperture.
As I arose from the attempt, the mystery of the alteration in the chamber broke at once upon my understanding. I have observed that, although the outlines of the figures upon the walls were sufficiently distinct, yet the colors seemed blurred and indefinite. These colors had now assumed, and were momentarily assuming, a startling and most intense brilliancy, that gave to the spectral and fiendish portraitures an aspect that might have thrilled even firmer nerves than my own. Demon eyes, of a wild and ghastly vivacity, glared upon me in a thousand directions, where none had been visible before, and gleamed with the lurid lustre of a fire that I could not force my imagination to regard as unreal.
Unreal! -- Even while I breathed there came to my nostrils the breath of the vapour of heated iron! A suffocating odour pervaded the prison! A deeper glow settled each moment in the eyes that glared at my agonies! A richer tint of crimson diffused itself over the pictured horrors of blood. I panted! I gasped for breath! There could be no doubt of the design of my tormentors -- oh! most unrelenting! oh! most demoniac of men! I shrank from the glowing metal to the centre of the cell. Amid the thought of the fiery destruction that impended, the idea of the coolness of the well came over my soul like balm. I rushed to its deadly brink. I threw my straining vision below. The glare from the enkindled roof illumined its inmost recesses. Yet, for a wild moment, did my spirit refuse to comprehend the meaning of what I saw. At length it forced -- it wrestled its way into my soul -- it burned itself in upon my shuddering reason. -- Oh! for a voice to speak! -- oh! horror! -- oh! any horror but this! With a shriek, I rushed from the margin, and buried my face in my hands -- weeping bitterly.
The heat rapidly increased, and once again I looked up, shuddering as with a fit of the ague. There had been a second change in the cell -- and now the change was obviously in the form. As before, it was in vain that I, at first, endeavoured to appreciate or understand what was taking place. But not long was I left in doubt. The Inquisitorial vengeance had been hurried by my two-fold escape, and there was to be no more dallying with the King of Terrors. The room had been square. I saw that two of its iron angles were now acute -- two, consequently, obtuse. The fearful difference quickly increased with a low rumbling or moaning sound. In an instant the apartment had shifted its form into that of a lozenge. But the alteration stopped not here-I neither hoped nor desired it to stop. I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me? Could I resist its glow? or, if even that, could I withstand its pressure And now, flatter and flatter grew the lozenge, with a rapidity that left me no time for contemplation. Its centre, and of course, its greatest width, came just over the yawning gulf. I shrank back -- but the closing walls pressed me resistlessly onward. At length for my seared and writhing body there was no longer an inch of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the brink -- I averted my eyes --
There was a discordant hum of human voices! There was a loud blast as of many trumpets! There was a harsh grating as of a thousand thunders! The fiery walls rushed back! An outstretched arm caught my own as I fell, fainting, into the abyss. It was that of General Lasalle. The French army had entered Toledo. The Inquisition was in the hands of its enemies. 
《深坑、钟摆和希望》 ©️athanor文 |罗杰·卡迪诺 译 | 沈安妮
(本文已获得授权，转载请联系原译者)
超现实主义为了提出一套新的观看规则，常追从着一套浪漫主义和神秘主义的宇宙观，即坚信世界在充满分歧的表面下隐含着某种一致性。总迫不及待地制造惊奇和神秘效应的超现实主义通常认为，使人惊奇是获得洞见的前提。他们的创新性表现为一场挣扎，在混为一体、相互差异、繁琐又未经处理的元素之间展开，他们希望能因此在观众那里引起更为刺激的(因为延迟而刺激)平衡之“明见”。一位超现实主义者通常对任何未经解谜而揭露的真相嗤之以鼻，他们觉得赤裸的真相，只有当带着它的面纱一起出现时，才可以被人接受。
杨·史云梅耶早期的电影，因为受到了超现实主义和风格主义的混合熏陶，所以乐此不疲地追求制造一种悖论效应:他认为只有那些准备好迎接眩晕和惊奇的观众，才能收获洞见。这位视觉大师坚持用非语言的方式来表现事物，虽然看上去这是一种必要的手法，在这里却表现为一种近乎极端的复杂性，充斥着混乱杂生、眼花缭乱的元素。 根据定义，哈布斯堡的“珍奇屋”(Wunderkammer)该是收藏现实世界中存在物的地方，但这些藏物竟也常带有幻想的成分。设想一下，一个独角鲸的长牙在当时能被认为是神话中的独角兽之角，我们从中不难看出，珍奇物能通过某种程度上的比喻意义获得价值，他们因此也与 21 世纪超现实主义的“物”有着相同点。独角兽之角同时跨进了现实和虚构的疆界，使虚幻之物变得触目可及。文艺复兴时期的“珍奇屋”常将其中最具异域风情之“物”赐予重要位置，我认为史云梅耶对他的物也有着与之相似的情愫。毫无疑问，他与这些风格主义的前辈们一样，有着追逐谜题和不寻常之物的品位。
《自然史》截帧 ©️ BFI诚然，认为史云梅耶是有意地为了坚持和传承这种远古的传统而创作，是非常牵强的，但我认为他早期的许多电影确实也反映了某种与这种思维习惯的亲缘性。短片《自然史》（Historia naturae [suite], 1967）在乍看之下有可能会被解读为一部反思人类对自然的征服欲和收揽欲的作品，人们一方面想要超越摆脱自然界的束缚，另一方面又想揽物，将其分类存储，并获得知识。我相信，如今的人类仍然没有脱离曾经引得“珍奇屋”建立的那个思维轨道。值得注意的是，史云梅耶公然地将这个短片片头的八个滑动图之后打上了阿尔钦博托的布拉格资助人鲁道夫二世的名字，以示致敬。
另外，影片的简短片头还巧妙地模仿了阿尔钦博托的肖像画，这提醒着观众在其差异的表面下隐藏着一个潜在的秩序。接下来一系列的片段各自被配以不同风格的音乐伴奏，有狐步舞曲、波列罗舞曲、布鲁斯以及探戈等。在这九分钟的时间里，史云梅耶用他特有的断奏风格快速地向我们展现了生物进化和分类谱系中各种物体的标本：从蝴蝶、甲虫、鱼到爬行动物、鸟、老虎、猴子，以及最后的智人。每个标本与标本之间都会有一个灵巧的互动和变化，有的物以一种老式雕刻的形式、百科全书中图形的形式，再或者以骨架或外壳的形式，展现在我们面前。比如，在第一个片段中，我们看到被分别放在橱柜抽屉里的蜗牛的雕刻品、实际的蜗牛和其空壳子。影片表面为我们制造了一种包罗万象的印象，但中间又夹杂反映了一种过于专注于繁琐的古怪感。史云梅耶仿佛一边想要对科学的分类法表示致意，一边又想要颠覆它。片中穿插的包括甲虫、蝾螈还有犰狳在内的奇思异想，不是被解读为对超现实主义所造怪胎的反映，就是被解读为对导演个人怪癖的表现（甲虫自然成了他最中意的物癖代表物）。
《自然史》截帧 ©️ BFI人的骷髅成为《纳骨堂》（Kostnice，1970）中的特殊题材。不同于导演在这段时期完成的其他作品的风格，此片是导演有意进行的一场风格实验，他试图从最小范围内可能找到的形象的互指中，获取最大的隐喻效果。（即使其中有一两个镜头还是出现了彼此间没有关联的事物：比如他会把蜗牛和教堂塔放入同一个镜头中）。导演一旦放弃使用动画的技巧而选择直接地用实物拍摄，这就好像是在告诉我们，超现实主义的技术在这里是冗余的，因为实存物已经以超现实的姿态展示在我们眼前了。
这部电影带我们去了库特纳霍拉（Kutna Hora）附近的塞德莱茨（Sedlec）墓地，那里有一个西多会教堂，其中的地下室有一个宽敞的小屋，小屋里面保存着胡斯战争（Hussite wars）以及之后的瘟疫遗留下来的超过五万受难者的尸骨。一群当地工匠耗时十多年，把这些骨骸摆造出各种艺术的形状，组成了徽章、圣体匣、台柱、台灯以及华丽的吊灯之类的东西。从某个层面上看，史云梅耶和往常一样简单地理顺着物质世界中最平淡无味、不足挂齿的肤浅之物。而在更深层的意义上看，他也要求我们从这些由遗物组成的可怕的表述中，领会出第二层的意义。没有一副骨架是保持完好的，这让我们不禁反思被这个藏骨屋所掩埋的可怕的简化主义暴行，它简直如同一幅古典风格主义粉饰下的惊世骇人的空虚画。而这些无名的碎骨残骸，则如同某种死亡了的语言中的只字片语，能够在新鲜的表达中重获新生。这些最无生气的东西，经由重新编组而重新被利用了起来。
《自然史》截帧 ©️ BFI像所有主要依靠视觉传达信息的工作者一样，史云梅耶关注和强调以物来表达思想中的清晰性和说服力。这种关注可以追溯至整个神秘主义和诗学思想史的一系列前辈那里。我们能想到雅各布·鲍姆（Jakob Bohme）的《万物的签名》（De Signatura retum，1622），文中他把大千世界看作为一个用神书写的浩瀚文本；又或者，我们想到了诺瓦利斯（Novalis）的《赛斯的学徒》（Die Lehrlinge zu Sais, 1802）和其中对古代北欧文字记载的雪花、羽毛、云彩以及星座的遐想。然而，史云梅耶对自然的质地有着他人无法比拟的警觉，在他那里，自然物的意义更为丰富且更具讽刺性。他对物质世界的看法可能更符合让 - 保罗·萨特（Jean-Paul Sartre） 的小说《恶心》（La Nausee，1938）中表现的存在主义式的阴郁现象学（existentialist morose phenomenology）。故事讲了一位叫安东尼·罗昆丁（Antoine Roquentin）的学者被一种摆脱不了的、具有密度又无以言表的“物自体”（thingness of things）所淹没。然而即使在恶心（这个因为智性的无能而产生的生理反应）的体验过程中，罗昆丁也似乎感悟到了有关“物”的晦涩诗意，以及它从低级向上跃升的势头，仿佛想要向人们宣扬其迷人又惊人的他者性。在《恶心》里，海滩上一个湿漉漉的鹅卵石、酒保的淡紫色牙套或者公园里的一桩树根，便可以展示出惊人的丰富意义，这些物将其隐喻力自由地放大到一种无法传译的程度，仿佛是物本身在自动地书写。
世界自有其内在意义，此想法自夏尔·波德莱尔（Charles Baudelaire）以来，就在法国的诗歌传统中占有诱人的一席之地。我猜想，史云梅耶或许读过弗朗西斯·蓬热（Francis Ponge）的散文诗。就像润饰过的萨特一样，蓬热思忖着一些日常物品（一条面包、一块肥皂条，不用说还有蜗牛），他们轮换着与无生命的东西相遇。尽管作者是反对人类中心主义的，但我们在这些相遇中仍然能看出同一个几经重复的训诫：即一切现象，无论其粗糙与否、无论其倾向脱离意义还是滞留意义，他们都从未完全地摆脱人类语言的捕捉。在蓬热看来，人类不仅不可避免地对物进行识别，与他所居住的被物围绕的世界相认同，而且物本身似乎也在向人们讲述着自己。
《石头的游戏》截帧 ©️Studio A/ BFI当史云梅耶在处理沉默的世界时，他试图去转述一种心照不宣的话语。无感之物自然没有言说的能力，但他们却有能力将自己作为所指意义的组成部分，出现在我们面前。在电影《石头的游戏》（Spiel mit Steinen，1963）中，有一个将石头与水混合在一起的疯狂场面，我们看到黑色和白色的鹅卵石从水龙头中挤胀出来，扑通扑通地掉入到桶里。如果这些鹅卵石来自河流，那么我们便能把它们当作对水之意象的一种转喻。后来，这些石头破碎变成为砂土和沙粒，这是一种更为“自然”的变形，因为它暗示了石头的实际命运，这里导演并没有用超现实主义的快速时间尺度来处理，而是采用了较慢的地质学时间来处理。
当然，如果认为导演摆弄自然物的每一个阶段，都在表达某个深刻的智性主张，这就夸张了。因为史云梅耶的早期视觉实验性作品通常不是要表达对科学和哲学的激情，而只是出自一位想卖弄技巧的艺术家之手。然而，史云梅耶对电影画面在触觉上的冲击力，予以与视觉上的冲击力同等的关注，这在我看来弥补了其杂耍式花样剪辑有时显得巧于弄姿的缺陷。导演似乎确实给触觉的体验赋予了不同寻常的意义。值得一提的是，在 20 世纪 70 年代，他带领布拉格的超现实主义团体，对触觉价值及其与视觉感知和精神观念的关系，进行了一番齐心合力的调研。几个小组成员创造了触觉物以及由其构成的拼贴作品；史云梅耶自己则组织了一场蒙眼触物实验，过程中，他的朋友们接连着去摸索装在一个黑色包包里的各样东西，并猜测他们是什么（实际上里面装有开瓶器、鞋子、流苏、长袜等物品）。史云梅耶称自己的实验表明了“触觉也能以跨主体的方式被传达，这鼓励着我们去超越那个规定着主体和客体关系的传统上的二元论”。
《最后的把戏》截帧 ©️BFI我认为电影《石头的游戏》开场中的那个看上去无关紧要的片头，恰恰反映了这种主观与静止，以及与无生命的物体世界之间进行的悬滞的对话：我们跟随着摄影机穿过一扇蓝色的门，循着地窖里粉刷过的墙面前行，摄影机邀请着我们注意墙上那些细微的裂缝、褪色的斑驳和蜘蛛网，这些不寻常都伴随着滴答和碎裂的声响。再比如，《最后的把戏》（Posledni trik pana Schwarcewalldea a pana Edgara, 1964）向我们展示了褪了色的座椅画上的铜绿和小丑的木头脑袋；或者《棺材与天竺鼠》（Rakvickarna, 1966）里的粗面料、粗糙的新闻纸，以及天竺鼠穿的粗大的外套：通过以上这些，我们了解到史云梅耶有一种把物的粗糙表面下隐含的复杂度，特写成一种触觉的强烈嗜好。好像他不仅让我们把“物”当作文字一样“阅读”，也让我们用眼睛去摸索它们，去设想如果我们与它们接触，它们会如何感受（以及我们会如何感受）。
《棺材与天竺鼠》 ©️ BFI对“物”的强烈的感觉，在某些情况下能促成人对某种形而上的秩序的洞见，这个见解是诗学与宗教学中神秘主义一派的共同主张。通过对一颗石头或一只蝴蝶的冥想去窥见较高层次的现实，是许多有着与史云梅耶类似背景的前人的习惯性做法。但史云梅耶做了一个罕见的壮举，他在用平淡之物表达更深层意义的同时，仍然能尊重这些物的平凡性：也就是说，即使物作为一个能提供启示的对象被注目，它仍然继续地保持着自己日常的物性，仍然是一个可以被拾起、挤压、损耗或抛弃的东西。可以说，对史云梅耶而言，那些具有潜在预示力的废弃之物有一种特别的魅力。像库尔特·施威特斯（Kurt Schwitters）和他的《梅尔滋》（Merz）系列拼贴画一样，史云梅耶更想让他的好奇心派上实际的用场，他坚持道：“一个物被触碰得越多，它的内容就越丰富。”
有一种解读把史云梅耶作品中反复出现的古怪主题看成是一个激发救赎的过程，在这个过程中，他将日常的糟粕升格为非比寻常的神奇之物。以此来看，我们不妨用一个超现实主义的经典类比来形容——其灵感来自兰波的“语言的炼金术师”（alchimie du verbe）概念——艺术家像炼金术师一样，能将基础物质变为黄金；换言之，他通过处理废弃物来提炼出新。撇开炼金术、民粹主义与布拉格的联系不谈（特别是当我们聚焦于“黄金巷”[Zlata ulicka]，也就是那条弗朗茨·卡夫卡（Franz Kafka）曾经住过的以炼金术师得名的传奇街道），如果我们将电影人看作一位拾荒者，他将废弃物收集来，然后试以不同的组合，最后在经过彻底的融合和杂糅过程之后，萃取出精华，那么将他们跟炼金术师进行类比，是相当恰切的。我认为，这个最终提取的精华，标志着一切物与物之间配对并最终生成隐喻的基本要素，它是促成这个类比成立的原则本身，也就是构成超现实主义创造力的秘密。
《爱丽丝》截帧 ©️ First Run Features然而，史云梅耶也不总是利用那些无用的垃圾物进行实验性创作。电影《爱丽丝》（Neco z Alenky，1987）开始的一组镜头为我们陈列了爱丽丝房间内的物品，其中有：一个装纽扣的盒子、一个有木制纹路的蘑菇、一排果酱罐、一盏幻灯、一顶太阳帽、一瓶墨水、一些饼干、一把剪刀、两个苹果核、一具啮齿类动物的头颅骨、一双白色手套、一个捕鼠器、一些用玻璃窗罩着的蝴蝶标本、一堆娃娃和木偶、一幅画着兔子和狐狸的油画、一堆纸船和一个纸牌屋。随后，在爱丽丝的仙境冒险过程中，我们将再次遇见几乎所有的这些物品，但这次它们以重新整装过的“出奇又出奇”的方式出现：比如，爱丽丝打开果酱罐，发现里面装满了大图钉；白兔在她的白色手套中划着纸船；爱丽丝喝下了墨水，然后就长大了；她通过啃蘑菇来调节自己的大小；两张扑克牌互相打了起来，随后便被兔子的剪刀剪掉了头部；最后，爱丽丝从她的梦中醒来，发现纸牌散落着了一身。
《爱丽丝》截帧 ©️ First Run Features一般来说，史云梅耶作品中的感伤和痛苦，不论是出于普遍的还是出于童心的原因，总是以一种强大、怪诞或可怕的方式呈现：若用我们在之前的讨论中所使用的术语来形容，这就是一种来自现代存在主义的阴郁式现象学，在经由超现实主义者重新评注和定位后所形成的狂想曲。但是，我们也需警惕过于片面的强调，因为如果在通常情况下我们确实将物质世界看作是中性和冷漠的，那么史云梅耶的成熟就在于，他想要一面敬重这种冷漠（那种自然在人类的构建面前的漠然），另一面又想狡黠雀跃地表现，这个将我们围绕的自然其实是最具机智且善于整蛊的。我们就像步入了卡夫卡笔下虚构的布拉格：无聊的广场和压抑的楼梯间沉浸在一种萧瑟的宿命论气氛中，同时到处又充满了挑衅的异常感。这尤其让我们想到卡夫卡于 1917 年写的一个叫《家长的忧虑》（Die Sorge des Hausvaters）的故事，其中描述了一个叫“奥德拉德克”（Odradek）的生物，一个用棉线轴和一团麻线组成的玩具的遗骸形象。在作者带有聚焦效果的文学描绘下，它变成了一个快活的小怪物。我相信卡夫卡在此的意图是想让我们把这个物当成一个家常玩具，一个以棉线车为轮并以即兴为“动力”的“战车”，但同时他又彻底地打破了我们对世界的确定感，因为我们别无选择地只能以这个神秘又荒唐的“奥德拉德克”来称呼它。这种典型的怪诞主义艺术手法，在超现实主义看来便是一种黑色幽默。
《爱丽丝》截帧 ©️ First Run Features茨维坦·托多洛夫（Tzvetan Todorov）认为，奇幻文学是建立在不同语态和修辞手段之上的，这就像是那些以“我觉得”“或许”“这就仿佛”开头的句子。而且，故事经常从托多洛夫所说的“纯奇幻”（pure fantastic）变为“奇幻式的惊奇”（fantastic-marvellous），尤其是当我们最终发现那些一度被描绘地充满说服力的异常之物不过是“梦一场”的时候。鉴于电影动画使用的是视觉话语，并没有文学语言中类似“好像”那样的虚拟式，而只有文学中的现在时态。这使得电影看似不如小说语言富有变化性和弹性；然而这一特点却相当有利于一个恒定节奏的维持，并足以解除或至少能延迟那些对银幕上所见之物质疑的声音。史云梅耶可以说是充分利用了电影的这种特质：他的电影不是特别简短，就是极其令人困惑，以至于观众都没有时间去留意从何时起故事已经从真实滑入奇幻世界；要么就是像《爱丽丝》中那样，将真实与奇幻之间的界限模糊化。按照托多洛夫的分类，史云梅耶的许多作品可能会被分配到“纯惊奇”（pure marvellous）一类中，毕竟其作品一贯被理解为主要以非现实之物为内容，好像是童话一样，或者简直就是梦境本身。
然而，如果将典型的史云梅耶作品完全等同于童话故事或梦境（后者在弗洛伊德看来是不可能表达诸如，“假如”或“但”这样的概念的，因此也就无法对假设或反对的观点做出回应），那么，批评者或许有必要忽略影片中那些哗众取宠的表面内容，而去挖掘一些更为重要的潜在意义。但是史云梅耶的早期风格真的是如此明显的寓言风格吗？它真的坚持要我们去发现电影中第二层的象征意义吗？我不这么认为，而且我对那些弗洛伊德式和荣格式的电影解读表示怀疑。虽然梦和童话确实可以为精神分析得出有用的真知——这从本质上讲是启动了一个翻译的过程，以恢复那些被自我防御机制所压抑和篡改的信息——，但是史云梅耶的视觉语言对这种“篡改”来说显得太过僵硬和刻意了，而对那种崇尚不协调的诗学来讲，它又显得太过精心和讲究，毕竟它也可以被归于画谜或密文之类。相反，当史云梅耶在《爱丽丝》中为我们展现一只肚子里流出锯屑的兔子时，或者在《公寓》（Byt，1968）中为我们展现用一个有穿孔的勺子饮汤的场景时，他最想要以自然的方式着重传达的，其实是异常之物的概念。所以，我们不得不（至少应首先）尝试对他作品中表现的具有触感的、清晰的、现实主义的原始声明，做出响应。
《爱丽丝》截帧 ©️ First Run Features史云梅耶的超现实主义代表作《对话的维度（Moznosti dialogu，1982）包含了我们在前文中讨论过的导演大部分的修辞和创作特点。影片用三个场景为我们比拟出几个奇异的对话类型：（i）事实对话，（ii）激情对话，（iii）费力对话。参与对话的对象双双出场，他们之间的一系列的交流似乎为回答人类对话的性质这一深刻的哲学问题做出贡献。（这不假，史云梅耶这里的用辞让人想起了米兰·昆德拉颇为擅长表现的那种对人际互动的怀疑和厌世论。）电影的主旨似乎是这样：人要表达与交流其所思，是一件无比艰难的事，这不仅因为语言媒介本身的缺陷所致，还因为人类交流过程中的微妙平衡会不可避免地被自我中心主义扰乱。另外，这还源于一个悲哀的事实：即不同的思想永远不可能真正地达成一致。以上的归纳虽然有一定道理，但我认为，如果我们用纯粹抽象或寓言的方式解读《对话的维度》的话，会错失其要领。这里表现的社会或心理的意义，其实不如他们如何被伪装起来显得重要，因为电影强调的是一种外在彰显的质感，也就是物体一边清晰可见，一边又在动画中呈现出摇摆不定的滑稽姿态。
《深坑、钟摆和希望》截帧 ©️ athanor第一个场景“事实对话”公开致敬了阿尔钦博托。两个人头面对面地以侧脸出现在银幕上，一个由蔬菜组成，另一个由锡质的厨房用具组成。他们的对话随即演变成一场身体实战，并以后者歼灭前者结束，最后只见锡面人边咀嚼着蔬菜边吐出碎片。随后，锡面人又被一个由各种文具组成的人所消灭并取代。再后来，经过一系列被加快了节奏的对抗和征服的过程之后，锡人、纸人和蔬菜人留下残渣越变越细，直到最后成为不分皂白的一团糊。这个场景的最后用如此的画面来收尾：一个无名的泥头咳出一个相似的泥头，它又随之咳出另一个头，如此循环不止。
在“激情对话”这个场景中，一男一女的两个黏土人，面对面地就桌而座，上演了一场类似的疯狂“对话”。他们在情欲式拥抱和交融过程中，先失去又恢复了各自的形状。随着欲望慢慢演变成仇恨，二者最终同归于尽，化作一团没有固定形状的黏土。
这两个场景不仅极具触觉上的震撼力，甚至还有更深层概念性的指涉性。从某种意义上看，这些形状和物体之间奇异的互动表现了一些自然的事实，比如，随着事物物理形态的毁灭，接踵而至的是其身份的解构。然而令人惊讶的是，电影的视觉力量完全掩盖了任何形式的“熵”感（entropy）。史云梅耶的风格似乎想传达给我们一个不一样的信息，似乎是在说：即使人或物被解体而丧失了身份，他们先前所带的能量却并不会消失，而是被重新分配到了其他的地方。这里的隐含义可能确实与炼金术师有关，也就是说，即使是泥土和黏土这样的基础物质也能超越其惰性而变得有生气，所以说世上最终没有什么可以被真的定义为“死物”。（这再次让我们想起了塞德莱茨墓地里的那些骨头的内涵。
《深坑、钟摆和希望》截帧 ©️ athanor在此处，我们与一个在我看来是整个动画电影类型得以建立的基础性谬误正面交锋。普通生活中的“物”被非常直接地分为“动”和“静”两类，我们也用这个常识性的模式来区分我们所遇到的东西。假如一个“死物”动了起来，那么我们不得不做出两种假设：一是我们之前误解了实情，它其实是一个活物；二是它被一个外力操纵着，在这种情况下严格来讲，它其实仍是被动的。电影人的野心就在于，他想用一个吸引人的反例，去破坏这种逻辑。这个动画电影就用“死物”和从来没有生命之物表现了活物中的这个谬误。不妨再用一个和布拉格相关的比方讲，这就如同传说中那个只要在头上写下魔咒便立刻能动起来的泥人（Golem），同样地，被史云梅耶选中、摆放、刺激和拍摄的东西，也会自发地跳活起来。动画电影的整体理想是要压制人们在正常情况下的感知和区分事物的模式，它甚至还有一种压制事物之间的差异性，以及消除理性基础的逻辑。确实，史云梅耶的动画能使理性瘫痪到一种让普通观众无法理解一个胡萝卜或钥匙圈是如何自动跳起舞来的程度。实际上，他们是通过一系列从外部设计好的位移和调整来实现的。但是，动画师只能设计一个幻觉、一个形象，这些偶尔也会成为对其本身复制性的讽刺，这有时候导致了史云梅耶电影效果的差强人意，好像他是在为即将上演的魔术做前期的铺垫。影片完全由魔幻主导是冒险的，因为只有疯子才会把电影中的奇幻与现实生活混为一谈。
《深坑、钟摆和希望》截帧 ©️ athanor《对话的维度》的最后一场“费力对话”，是一部同时展现了动画技巧和概念论论证的力作。史云梅耶在片中实现了感觉和思想上的真正融合，他在抛出大量的触觉和视觉感受的同时，还用智性的谜语攻击着观众大脑。作为一场在急速变换中进行的风格实验，其中惊人的快变令人眼花缭乱；而作为一场对人类分类学和知识构成的思考，它也是最具刺激和清晰性的。在我看来，这组片段是有史以来由运动图像形式组成的论证中最有说服力的一个。
这一场景的开始，两个人头用舌头将各种物体推到对方面前，这类似某种肉搏战游戏（也可以将其看作是一场精心设计的，对扑克游戏、井字游戏和剪刀石头布游戏的戏仿）。八件不同的物品被分成四个自然组对，轮流登场：面包和黄油刀，牙刷和牙膏，铅笔和铅笔刀，鞋和鞋带。首轮的对话交流遵循基本的逻辑展开，即一方给出一件物品，另一方则以常识中与之相配的对应物回应。随之而来的是第二轮的挑战和反应，但是这回，我们惊讶地目击了一场遵循着异常逻辑的分组展示：一条面包引来了一管牙膏的回应，牙膏又唤出了铅笔刀，鞋子唤出了黄油刀，铅笔唤出了鞋带。而不等我们回过神来，这一轮便结束了。接下来的一轮再次以一条面包为对话的开始，这时对方予以回应的是铅笔刀。随后的一系列配对分别是：鞋与牙刷，铅笔与黄油刀，牙刷与鞋带。这些交流以如此目不暇接的速度展开，好似一场变奏的赋格曲。而渐渐地，我们在其中窥探到了这些物体出现的模式。影片也许因为速度太快，无法在第一时间被观众把握，但它却足够明显地向我们透露着某种数学上的一致性。通过分析，我们能看出，这个完整的交流模式，是按照这八个对象的所有矩阵组合所有可能性展开的，其出场顺序一次又一次地被系统重新洗牌，直到所有配对组合的可能被耗尽为止。
这种由不当的方程式构建的不当的代数法是对常识的公然挑衅，并且极其令人不安，因为我们不仅得去理解那些不合理的配对逻辑，而且还得绞尽脑汁地想，电影人为何要乐此不疲地试图让不合理成为可行的。片中当黄油刀遇到鞋子时，其反应竟是把鞋涂满了黄油，鞋带则干脆绕着铅笔打了一个讨巧的结，一管牙膏竟把自己插入转笔刀里直到牙膏恶心地涌了出来。当所有不合适的配对轮转了一遍之后，又开始了新一轮的对决，而这一次，完全相同的物品被分到了一起：鞋子遇到另一只鞋子，牙刷响应另一只牙刷，诸如此类。这时候，观众可能觉得很困惑，因为相似物之间的对决似乎和之前一样富有挑战性。而到最终轮，游戏规则发生了变化，两个舌头作为新的物品出现了，它们以一种可以预见的方式相互决斗了起来。
电影结束，当我们从电影图像的沉浸力量中恢复过来，不免会用抽象的方式去评估其影响，试图将史云梅耶的物式思维转化为语言上的对等物。从哲学角度看，试图对《对话的维度》这样的作品做成像和反成像的解读，无疑表现了一个哲学上的事实，即个人经验中的偶然现实，永远不能与他人的解读、建构、假设以及最终的幻想真正合拍。这意味着，史云梅耶是一位倾向用神话和奇幻思维，多过于用祛饰的客观思维的艺术家。在我们看来，他是一个会毫不犹豫地把独角鲸的尖牙置于一旁，而选择与独角兽为伍的人。人们总是无法理解康德的“自物体”概念，那是因为我们的思想，只有当它具体把捉到（比如说用网捕到，或用现存的知识和想法去网罗）一个事物的时候，才能与之产生互动。如果以上的假设在任何情况下都成立，那么就可以推导出：主观思想越是广博，我们的物质世界就越丰富、越有诗意的结论。毫无疑问的，这是一个超现实主义的论点，但它也同时把重视孕育丰富想象力，摆在忠守客观性之前。按常理来看，一张纸是用来写字的：但是何必要否认它同时也能被拿来做船模、帽子、小号和飞机等十几种其他东西的自由呢？在史云梅耶的手中，物体每隔几秒就会自己改变主意变个样，因为超现实主义的“组合机制”不受任何原则的限制。正如埃卢尔德所说：“一切事物都可以与其他的一切事物相比较；每件事物随处可闻其回声，随处可见其见证、相似物、对立物以及其未来的潜力。”
《荒唐童话》截帧 ©️Krátký Film Praha / BFI某种层面来看，史云梅耶“以物而思”的思维，似乎受到具有帝国主义情怀的百科全书式揽物的雄心壮志的影响。他似乎有一种想要投身于世界和表现世界完整性的冲动，于是，他用电影组建了属于他的“珍奇屋”，但显然即使是像《荒唐童话》（Zvahlav aneb saticky Slameneho Huberta,1971）和《爱丽丝》，甚至塞德莱茨的地下室，这些展现着丰富的微观世界的作品，也不能为我们呈现所有的东西。史云梅耶青睐于用动作示意，从动作暗示无穷的意涵，这点在我看来极具震慑力：比如在“事实对话”中，他向我们展现了一个脑袋无限地咳出另一个脑袋的画面，或者在令人抓狂的《其他》（Et Cetera,1966）中，他让人物不停上下急动，发出的“嚓嚓”的摩擦声。我们不禁猜想，史云梅耶在电影学院学到的制作动画电影最基础的经济手段之一（即用相对便宜的复刻技术，替代原本需要搭建一个简短的框景就耗费昂贵的片段），是不是没能勾起他对“永恒轮回”（eternal recurrence）以及循环往复的“似曾相识”感的兴趣呢？在《其他》里：“物”的列述即使再详尽，也可以被述尽；然而，我们从那些令人困惑的重复画面中，却能看出一些重要的观点：也就是，期待与怀旧，那些我们得以评价时间的情动模式，就好像是先将某些时刻曝光于光照中，然后再把它们归位到我们知觉时间观中的某个具体位置上。
《荒唐童话》截帧 ©️ Krátký Film Praha / BFI我认为，史云梅耶的电影表面具有讨巧和娱乐性的特点，但同时他的电影也严肃地反映了从比较、分辨、归类，到辨证评价、归纳和记录等一系列的思想运作过程。更具体地说，我把他惯用的灵活的回收利用技巧、重复中不失变化（像乐曲创作那样）的技巧，以及他故意而为的不一致和让人惊慌失措的过渡技巧，看作是超现实主义诗学的完美体现。这具体表现为，他对物体之间互动的呈现和对另类事物、悖论式和鲁莽的比喻的热情，像是一场以不可靠的直觉与那些无懈可击的事实展开的赌博。经由史云梅耶之手，石头能变得像水一样流淌，像幻想一样飘逸；在《厄舍古厦的倒塌》（Zanik domu Usheru, 1980）中，干燥地面上的裂缝，一棵树根的形状和天空中闪电的样子，都可以巧构成别样的奇异图形。与其说他们构成了一个不太令人信服的哥特式电影叙事中的时刻，不如说他们组成了一个独立的专门命题。也许有一点值得思考，他那不受限制地对不同所指物的把玩，有力地反驳了电影语言需要依赖剧情和参照一个稳定结构的原则。
他的影片用基础元素制造了一种幻想之毒，似乎时刻准备着用之洗刷去任何能构成主题意义的残留物。也就是说，理解史云梅耶视觉思维的真正关键在于，对无限联想原则的坚持。自由的想象力是孕育所有这些触觉和视觉上历险的动力，其惊人的炼金术力量能塑平万物的千差万别，将杂乱无章升华为瞬间闪现的整一。被这个力量左右而形成的价值观，有着诗性的本质，它与那个引领至少从浪漫主义以来的创新精神的价值观相同。也就是被塞缪尔·泰勒·柯勒律治（Samuel Taylor Coleridge）——又是一位拥有着百科全书式知识和激情的奇幻家——在其 1818 年的演讲《诗的定义》（Definition of Poetry）中定义的原则：“平衡及调和相反的与不和谐的性质、同一与殊异、新奇的感觉与古老的、传统的事件、异乎寻常的感情与异乎寻常的秩序、冷静以及热情和激动的判断力。”
因此，用“以物而思”来形容史云梅耶，不过是我们赞美他是一位伟大的视觉诗人的另一种方式。
《其他》截帧 ©️ Krátký Film Praha / BFI*原文首刊载于《电影艺术》杂志2017年第4期，转载有删节。
VCD 影促会将于 2019 年 11 月 8 日将《深坑、钟摆和希望》带到北京UCCA。
标题增加了一个“希望”，而且改成了喜剧的结尾，虽然是原著后面才写到的。而且是从小说的中段开始，发现那个巨大的钟摆。
在鄂榭城堡并不成功的有声尝试以后，他重新回到了哑剧。他坚持使用哑剧的方式。
1
为爱伦坡的黑死诗歌，创造氛围情境，
死亡气息的氛围扑面。
攥紧的拳头，死亡的威胁无处不在，和政治的影响一样。我很佩服这个死变态的老头，六经注我的感受，什么美国的诗歌也能被他用来作为政治吐槽的工具，真是tmd厉害。
我的肥肚子就要被老鼠吞噬，那个推着小战车魔鬼脸的赤脚。我就将意识不清，带着我疲惫的尸身，我连上帝也见不了。
这种美国工厂版的但丁地狱，让我想起了中国的18层地狱：腰斩，分尸，刺手，钉脚，比耶稣基督还惨。
不过特别喜欢表现人害怕的那种神经质那种低沉的叫声，那种闷着的声音，那种无法突破的黑暗。
史云梅耶，史湘云家眉眼。就是个金鱼佬，加幽闭恐惧症患者。总是在地下室想象着调戏小女孩，总是在调戏小女孩的时候想象着地狱的恐怖，那就是政治的压迫感。
我觉得这是一部杰出的实验电影。
2
突然明白为什么史云梅耶只喜欢做短片。因为他喜欢爱伦坡短篇故事的感觉。莫名的恐惧，黑暗的力量，低吼的质感。
隐形的被处决者。等待分食的老鼠们。死神的素描。没想到在最后一秒钟他把自己解救出来了，松开的绳子，他惊魂未定，周边都是勃施一样的地狱图景。
没想到第二道陷阱又来了，带着中世纪的火焰。他掉下了水井。是个宗教版的逃狱故事。
3
文森特.普莱斯曾经说过，艾伦坡是非常难改编的。这个人一辈子拍B级片，甚至和蒂姆波顿的合作，他最钟爱的也是爱伦坡。
孵化到所有都是在为恐怖的氛围做准备。换成这个片子的语境，粘土动画，主观视角拍摄也都是为了营造氛围。
原著写到一切发生在意大利的托雷多，我们被法国的拉萨尔将军征服了。