影城噩梦 S.O.B.(1981)
简介：
- 菲利克斯（威廉·霍尔登 William Holden 饰）是一名电影制片人，他倾尽所有拍摄了高成本的影片《夜风》，但首映式之后却收获了恶评如潮，不仅如此，他在片中担任女主角的妻子（朱莉·安德鲁斯 Julie Andrews 饰）亦离他而去，绝望之中，菲利克斯决定自我了断。
演员：
影评：
朱莉·安德鲁斯在经典音乐剧《音乐之声》里张开双臂、在翠绿的山谷里放声唱歌的镜头，想必早已深深印在了影迷们的脑子里，她的歌声清脆动听，人也是那么美丽善良，所以很多内地观众以为朱莉·安德鲁斯就只能演这种白莲花角色了。
我在看这部《S O B》之前也是这么以为的，因为我没怎么看过她的其他电影，直到我看到了她在本片中疯癫裸露，才彻底颠覆了我的印象！原来她也有豪放的一面。
影片讲述一个超级赚钱的导演，突然遭遇票房滑铁卢，赔了公司一大笔钱，他在各方面的压力下竟企图自杀！电影公司急忙派来三个老头看着他。这三个老头坏的很，在他家开放纵party，没心没肺的泡妞喝酒。看到眼前的重口味情景，老导演突然开窍，现在的社会不就是需要这些声色犬马么！那好，我把电影改一改，不要纯情不要善良，就要骚浪就要邪恶！
于是老导演毅然买断了电影版权，主演还是他老婆朱莉·安德鲁斯，他说服她说：摆脱职业瓶颈最好的方法就是脱！原来的玉女、美国甜心，现在要在大银幕第一次变坏、展现胴体，这票房马上就能翻几番啊！朱莉一听有道理，决定一脱成名！
于是，老导演用凑来的棺材本钱补拍了这部电影，曾经翻脸无情的电影公司一看有戏，就想从中分一杯羹。他们说服朱莉降低风险的最好办法就是把经营权卖给大的电影公司，朱莉不太信任老公，怕亏得分文不剩，就私自同意了。电影公司看过毛片后嫌太长，要将片子剪短再发行，老导演得知后气急败坏，跑到公司抢胶片，竟被赶来的警察击毙！他临死前带着笑容，欣慰的说:这下子票房要翻倍了！
果不其然，曾经的烂片成了口碑、票房大爆炸的全世界No1！电影公司见风使舵，要给导演一个隆重的葬礼，并让朱莉献唱，也算是继续炒作。三个老头再也受不了这种利用死人赚钱的卑鄙行为，他们秘密偷出了老导演的尸体，给他来了一个自由的海葬。“好莱坞确实没有几个好人！”老人们感叹道。
这部电影仿佛《电视台风云》的姊妹篇，用嬉笑怒骂、不拘一格的过火形式，表现出了好莱坞电影产业光鲜亮丽背后的世态炎凉和资本家们的残忍虚伪。电影一开始，有个老头在海边跑步，不幸心脏病发作跌倒，他的狗在一旁狂吠求助，但无人理睬；他的尸体就这么晾在海滩上，其他游泳的人视若无睹；他的尸体晚上被海水冲走，白天又被冲回来，陪伴他的只有那条狗；最后那条狗也疯了，咬了警察，才让旁人注意到了这具尸体竟然是曾经出名的老演员某某某。这种极端的讽刺，在现实中也差不了多少，蓝洁瑛不就是最好的例子吗！
导演布莱克·爱德华兹 Blake Edwards就是朱莉·安德鲁斯的老公，她是他的第二任妻子，两人的婚姻一直走到了爱德华兹生命的尽头。这位导演最有名的作品就是《粉红豹》系列。
《S O B》中朱莉·安德鲁斯自黑似的重口味歌唱秀或许和《音乐之声》一样能成为影迷们的特殊记忆。
An everything-but-the-kitchen-sink satire sending up Hollywood movie industry, Blake Edwards’ S.O.B. (its acronym actually stands for “Standard Operational Bullshit”) is no less blistering than Robert Altman’s THE PLAYER (1992), and gives Coen Brothers’ HAIL, CAESAR! (2016) a good run for its money in its goofiness and campiness.
The ever-high-flying producer Felix Farmer (Mulligan) is hit hard by the first turkey he produces, a movie named NIGHT WIND starring his Oscar-winning actress-wife Sally Miles (Andrews), after many futile suicidal attempts, Felix drinks in the last chance saloon and propositions to rejig the film into a soft-core pornographic picture (an inspiration derived from an orgiastic party held by his friends in his beach house), which requires Sally, a beloved household name famed for her family-friendly persona (aka. Ms. Julie Andrews herself), to go topless, as a desperate stunt to lure curiosity-driven audience, and ergo, salvages the movie from financial disaster. Of course, he has to stake his and Sally’s entire nest egg into the play, because the money-seeking studio, headed by David Blackman (an intimidating Vaughn) wants none of the dud, it is disheartening to see how callously a successful producer falls into disfavor just because one misstep, and when the wind changes, the studio is unscrupulous enough to jump back on the gravy train in a trice.
Self-serving agents, wanna-bees and wire-pullers, lascivious goings-on, plus a brassy gossip columnist (Loretta Swit hamming it up to high heaven), the whole shebang turns morbid when Felix finally achieves what he has attempted, and ironically in the wake of which, NIGHT WIND becomes a box-office record breaker just as he wishes. It looks everyone eventually gets what they want, Sally wins another Oscar, the studio hits a jackpot, only Felix, given a Viking wake by his three loyal friends, director Tom Curley (Holden), doctor Irving Finegarten (Preston) and Sally’s press agent Ben Coogan (Webber), whereas an official ceremony is simultaneously officiated by a spiritual guru (Storch) and attended by the glitterati, only, what lies inside the casket is an under-appreciated character actor, who finally gets its posthumous due honored by oblivious attendees. As per usual, Hollywood is an old boys’ club, Edwards’ celebratory gesture of the ending is nostalgic but also squeezes a flicker of warmth to those poor rich Tinseltown practitioners.
While it is revelatory to witness with one’s own eyes that Mary Poppins goes bare-breasted (Emily Blunt, take up that gauntlet!), Julie Andrews doesn’t go for broke in mining into Sally’s formality-bound impersonality (divorce is issued immediately after NIGHT WIND’s disastrous screening) and gormless duplicity (making deal with Blackman behind Felix’s back), yet the scene of a drug-addled-and-emboldened Sally loses all her propriety is a pure delight. Among the larger-than-usual ensemble, Richard Mulligan cautiously straddles a thin line between mindlessly catatonic and frantically delirious, and Shelley Winters is a gaudy hoot as Sally’s power agent, but it is Robert Preston’s eloquent Dr. Finegarten makes the most splash as he calmly articulates sideswipes, most of which have a nervous wreck Ben Coogan in the receiving end and some pertain to the latter’s excremental movement, it does take some effort to commit oneself to deliver lowbrow matters with a highbrow attitude. Also. S.O.B. is William Holden’s swan song, and his meta-referential image of a sybaritic director makes an apposite valediction to a bona fide Hollywood legend.
Met with mixed reviews upon its release (it might hit too close to home for some), nominated for both Golden Globe and Razzie awards, decades later, S.O.B. enjoys a resurgence of appreciation for its sardonic tone, reckless bravado, and authentic portrayal of a microcosm infested by feeding frenzy, cupidity and, above all, human follies, warning signs are everywhere, still, welcome to Hollywood!
referential entries: Edwards’ THE PINK PANTHER (1963, 7.4/10), THE PARTY (1968, 7.2/10); Coen Brothers’ HAIL, CAESAR! (2016, 7.6/10); Robert Altman’s THE PLAYER (1992, 8.2/10).
