(PUBLISHED IN THE NEW YORKER, BY ERIC SCHLOSSER, ON JANUARY 23, 2014)
This month marks the fiftieth anniversary of Stanley Kubrick’s black comedy about nuclear weapons, “Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.” Released on January 29, 1964, the film caused a good deal of controversy. Its plot suggested that a mentally deranged American general could order a nuclear attack on the Soviet Union, without consulting the President. One reviewer described the film as “dangerous … an evil thing about an evil thing.” Another compared it to Soviet propaganda. Although “Strangelove” was clearly a farce, with the comedian Peter Sellers playing three roles, it was criticized for being implausible. An expert at the Institute for Strategic Studies called the events in the film “impossible on a dozen counts.” A former Deputy Secretary of Defense dismissed the idea that someone could authorize the use of a nuclear weapon without the President’s approval: “Nothing, in fact, could be further from the truth.” (See a compendium of clips from the film.) When “Fail-Safe”—a Hollywood thriller with a similar plot, directed by Sidney Lumet—opened, later that year, it was criticized in much the same way. “The incidents in ‘Fail-Safe’ are deliberate lies!” General Curtis LeMay, the Air Force chief of staff, said. “Nothing like that could happen.” The first casualty of every war is the truth—and the Cold War was no exception to that dictum. Half a century after Kubrick’s mad general, Jack D. Ripper, launched a nuclear strike on the Soviets to defend the purity of “our precious bodily fluids” from Communist subversion, we now know that American officers did indeed have the ability to start a Third World War on their own. And despite the introduction of rigorous safeguards in the years since then, the risk of an accidental or unauthorized nuclear detonation hasn’t been completely eliminated.
The command and control of nuclear weapons has long been plagued by an “always/never” dilemma. The administrative and technological systems that are necessary to insure that nuclear weapons are always available for use in wartime may be quite different from those necessary to guarantee that such weapons can never be used, without proper authorization, in peacetime. During the nineteen-fifties and sixties, the “always” in American war planning was given far greater precedence than the “never.” Through two terms in office, beginning in 1953, President Dwight D. Eisenhower struggled with this dilemma. He wanted to retain Presidential control of nuclear weapons while defending America and its allies from attack. But, in a crisis, those two goals might prove contradictory, raising all sorts of difficult questions. What if Soviet bombers were en route to the United States but the President somehow couldn’t be reached? What if Soviet tanks were rolling into West Germany but a communications breakdown prevented NATO officers from contacting the White House? What if the President were killed during a surprise attack on Washington, D.C., along with the rest of the nation’s civilian leadership? Who would order a nuclear retaliation then?
With great reluctance, Eisenhower agreed to let American officers use their nuclear weapons, in an emergency, if there were no time or no means to contact the President. Air Force pilots were allowed to fire their nuclear anti-aircraft rockets to shoot down Soviet bombers heading toward the United States. And about half a dozen high-level American commanders were allowed to use far more powerful nuclear weapons, without contacting the White House first, when their forces were under attack and “the urgency of time and circumstances clearly does not permit a specific decision by the President, or other person empowered to act in his stead.” Eisenhower worried that providing that sort of authorization in advance could make it possible for someone to do “something foolish down the chain of command” and start an all-out nuclear war. But the alternative—allowing an attack on the United States to go unanswered or NATO forces to be overrun—seemed a lot worse. Aware that his decision might create public unease about who really controlled America’s nuclear arsenal, Eisenhower insisted that his delegation of Presidential authority be kept secret. At a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, he confessed to being “very fearful of having written papers on this matter.”
President John F. Kennedy was surprised to learn, just a few weeks after taking office, about this secret delegation of power. “A subordinate commander faced with a substantial military action,” Kennedy was told in a top-secret memo, “could start the thermonuclear holocaust on his own initiative if he could not reach you.” Kennedy and his national-security advisers were shocked not only by the wide latitude given to American officers but also by the loose custody of the roughly three thousand American nuclear weapons stored in Europe. Few of the weapons had locks on them. Anyone who got hold of them could detonate them. And there was little to prevent NATO officers from Turkey, Holland, Italy, Great Britain, and Germany from using them without the approval of the United States.
In December, 1960, fifteen members of Congress serving on the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy had toured NATO bases to investigate how American nuclear weapons were being deployed. They found that the weapons—some of them about a hundred times more powerful than the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima—were routinely guarded, transported, and handled by foreign military personnel. American control of the weapons was practically nonexistent. Harold Agnew, a Los Alamos physicist who accompanied the group, was especially concerned to see German pilots sitting in German planes that were decorated with Iron Crosses—and carrying American atomic bombs. Agnew, in his own words, “nearly wet his pants” when he realized that a lone American sentry with a rifle was all that prevented someone from taking off in one of those planes and bombing the Soviet Union.
* * *
The Kennedy Administration soon decided to put locking devices inside NATO’s nuclear weapons. The coded electromechanical switches, known as “permissive action links” (PALs), would be placed on the arming lines. The weapons would be inoperable without the proper code—and that code would be shared with NATO allies only when the White House was prepared to fight the Soviets. The American military didn’t like the idea of these coded switches, fearing that mechanical devices installed to improve weapon safety would diminish weapon reliability. A top-secret State Department memo summarized the view of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 1961: “all is well with the atomic stockpile program and there is no need for any changes.”
After a crash program to develop the new control technology, during the mid-nineteen-sixties, permissive action links were finally placed inside most of the nuclear weapons deployed by NATO forces. But Kennedy’s directive applied only to the NATO arsenal. For years, the Air Force and the Navy blocked attempts to add coded switches to the weapons solely in their custody. During a national emergency, they argued, the consequences of not receiving the proper code from the White House might be disastrous. And locked weapons might play into the hands of Communist saboteurs. “The very existence of the lock capability,” a top Air Force general claimed, “would create a fail-disable potential for knowledgeable agents to ‘dud’ the entire Minuteman [missile] force.” The Joint Chiefs thought that strict military discipline was the best safeguard against an unauthorized nuclear strike. A two-man rule was instituted to make it more difficult for someone to use a nuclear weapon without permission. And a new screening program, the Human Reliability Program, was created to stop people with emotional, psychological, and substance-abuse problems from gaining access to nuclear weapons.
Despite public assurances that everything was fully under control, in the winter of 1964, while “Dr. Strangelove” was playing in theatres and being condemned as Soviet propaganda, there was nothing to prevent an American bomber crew or missile launch crew from using their weapons against the Soviets. Kubrick had researched the subject for years, consulted experts, and worked closely with a former R.A.F. pilot, Peter George, on the screenplay of the film. George’s novel about the risk of accidental nuclear war, “Red Alert,” was the source for most of “Strangelove” ’s plot. Unbeknownst to both Kubrick and George, a top official at the Department of Defense had already sent a copy of “Red Alert” to every member of the Pentagon’s Scientific Advisory Committee for Ballistic Missiles. At the Pentagon, the book was taken seriously as a cautionary tale about what might go wrong. Even Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara privately worried that an accident, a mistake, or a rogue American officer could start a nuclear war.
Coded switches to prevent the unauthorized use of nuclear weapons were finally added to the control systems of American missiles and bombers in the early nineteen-seventies. The Air Force was not pleased, and considered the new security measures to be an insult, a lack of confidence in its personnel. Although the Air Force now denies this claim, according to more than one source I contacted, the code necessary to launch a missile was set to be the same at every Minuteman site: 00000000.
* * *
The early permissive action links were rudimentary. Placed in NATO weapons during the nineteen-sixties and known as Category A PALs, the switches relied on a split four-digit code, with ten thousand possible combinations. If the United States went to war, two people would be necessary to unlock a nuclear weapon, each of them provided with half the code. Category A PALs were useful mainly to delay unauthorized use, to buy time after a weapon had been taken or to thwart an individual psychotic hoping to cause a large explosion. A skilled technician could open a stolen weapon and unlock it within a few hours. Today’s Category D PALs, installed in the Air Force’s hydrogen bombs, are more sophisticated. They require a six-digit code, with a million possible combinations, and have a limited-try feature that disables a weapon when the wrong code is repeatedly entered.
The Air Force’s land-based Minuteman III missiles and the Navy’s submarine-based Trident II missiles now require an eight-digit code—which is no longer 00000000—in order to be launched. The Minuteman crews receive the code via underground cables or an aboveground radio antenna. Sending the launch code to submarines deep underwater presents a greater challenge. Trident submarines contain two safes. One holds the keys necessary to launch a missile; the other holds the combination to the safe with the keys; and the combination to the safe holding the combination must be transmitted to the sub by very-low-frequency or extremely-low-frequency radio. In a pinch, if Washington, D.C., has been destroyed and the launch code doesn’t arrive, the sub’s crew can open the safes with a blowtorch.
The security measures now used to control America’s nuclear weapons are a vast improvement over those of 1964. But, like all human endeavors, they are inherently flawed. The Department of Defense’s Personnel Reliability Program is supposed to keep people with serious emotional or psychological issues away from nuclear weapons—and yet two of the nation’s top nuclear commanders were recently removed from their posts. Neither appears to be the sort of calm, stable person you want with a finger on the button. In fact, their misbehavior seems straight out of “Strangelove.”
Vice Admiral Tim Giardina, the second-highest-ranking officer at the U.S. Strategic Command—the organization responsible for all of America’s nuclear forces—-was investigated last summer for allegedly using counterfeit gambling chips at the Horseshoe Casino in Council Bluffs, Iowa. According to the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation, “a significant monetary amount” of counterfeit chips was involved. Giardina was relieved of his command on October 3, 2013. A few days later, Major General Michael Carey, the Air Force commander in charge of America’s intercontinental ballistic missiles, was fired for conduct “unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.” According to a report by the Inspector General of the Air Force, Carey had consumed too much alcohol during an official trip to Russia, behaved rudely toward Russian officers, spent time with “suspect” young foreign women in Moscow, loudly discussed sensitive information in a public hotel lounge there, and drunkenly pleaded to get onstage and sing with a Beatles cover band at La Cantina, a Mexican restaurant near Red Square. Despite his requests, the band wouldn’t let Carey onstage to sing or to play the guitar.
While drinking beer in the executive lounge at Moscow’s Marriott Aurora during that visit, General Carey made an admission with serious public-policy implications. He off-handedly told a delegation of U.S. national-security officials that his missile-launch officers have the “worst morale in the Air Force.” Recent events suggest that may be true. In the spring of 2013, nineteen launch officers at Minot Air Force base in North Dakota were decertified for violating safety rules and poor discipline. In August, 2013, the entire missile wing at Malmstrom Air Force base in Montana failed its safety inspection. Last week, the Air Force revealed that thirty-four launch officers at Malmstrom had been decertified for cheating on proficiency exams—and that at least three launch officers are being investigated for illegal drug use. The findings of a report by the RAND Corporation, leaked to the A.P., were equally disturbing. The study found that the rates of spousal abuse and court martials among Air Force personnel with nuclear responsibilities are much higher than those among people with other jobs in the Air Force. “We don’t care if things go properly,” a launch officer told RAND. “We just don’t want to get in trouble.”
The most unlikely and absurd plot element in “Strangelove” is the existence of a Soviet “Doomsday Machine.” The device would trigger itself, automatically, if the Soviet Union were attacked with nuclear weapons. It was meant to be the ultimate deterrent, a threat to destroy the world in order to prevent an American nuclear strike. But the failure of the Soviets to tell the United States about the contraption defeats its purpose and, at the end of the film, inadvertently causes a nuclear Armageddon. “The whole point of the Doomsday Machine is lost,” Dr. Strangelove, the President’s science adviser, explains to the Soviet Ambassador, “if you keep it a secret!”
A decade after the release of “Strangelove,” the Soviet Union began work on the Perimeter system—-a network of sensors and computers that could allow junior military officials to launch missiles without oversight from the Soviet leadership. Perhaps nobody at the Kremlin had seen the film. Completed in 1985, the system was known as the Dead Hand. Once it was activated, Perimeter would order the launch of long-range missiles at the United States if it detected nuclear detonations on Soviet soil and Soviet leaders couldn’t be reached. Like the Doomsday Machine in “Strangelove,” Perimeter was kept secret from the United States; its existence was not revealed until years after the Cold War ended.
In retrospect, Kubrick’s black comedy provided a far more accurate description of the dangers inherent in nuclear command-and-control systems than the ones that the American people got from the White House, the Pentagon, and the mainstream media.
“This is absolute madness, Ambassador,” President Merkin Muffley says in the film, after being told about the Soviets’ automated retaliatory system. “Why should you build such a thing?” Fifty years later, that question remains unanswered, and “Strangelove” seems all the more brilliant, bleak, and terrifyingly on the mark.
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AND THIS IS REALLY COOL:
Top secret documents released by the Pentagon:
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2014/01/primary-sources-permissive-action-links-and-the-threat-of-nuclear-war.html 这不能算战争电影,就像库布里克其他12部电影,从洛莉塔,2001太空漫游到大开眼戒,它们的哲学意味远大于作为商业片甚至类型片的意义。这部电影拍摄时正逢冷战胶着状态,大国关系处在非常微妙的平衡之中,谁都认为对方即将成为第三次世界大战的发动者,"核"成了最敏感的词汇,却又谁也割舍不下,Strange Love也就有了复杂的涵义。电影的结局是世界毁灭,这大概是历史上第一部拿现实国际政治开玩笑且以悲剧或者说是黑色幽默方式结局的电影,(在我所知的范围内)老库从来不会(Never ever)像斯皮尔博格那样给大家一个温情脉脉皆大欢喜的结局(如老库构思,斯皮尔博格拍的AI里,库设计的结局是永恒的寂静,斯却弄来了几个外星人在未来玩起死回生大赚眼泪…),这也就注定了他的每部电影都能引发无数的争论,最终部部都能载入史册。
昨晚又温习了一遍此片(我的硬盘长期保留此片),再次证明了我的猜想。
片子的主体基本是主题政治荒诞剧,有反战因素,但又不可否认它的主题多元性,否则有很多场景、情节就难以解释。
主题多元性点滴,想到哪里写到哪里.
1、雄性暗示
片头介绍了末日装置的传言,就是轰炸飞机空中加油的特写,音乐是柔情的缠绵绵的,这里是个性行为暗示,看了片子画面你就懂了。
机长姓KONG,英语不好的不要怪我,这个姓在英语世界里只有大猩猩用过,还是雄性的象征。
机长骑着2000万吨级核弹兴奋的落向苏联的导弹工厂,胯下的2000万吨级核弹也是一个勃起象征。
还有很多,比如狂人瑞披的关于性的“精华”谈论,巴克将军对奇爱的1:10男女婚姻比例的向往和遐想……
雄性=暴力毁坏力+性欲求
这类暗示很多,自己去看吧
2、国家的军事化和最终纳粹化
奇爱原是德国人(他的原型里可能有德裔物理学家奥托·汉因和弗里茨·施特拉斯曼的因素),如果你不知道这两个家伙是谁,自己就别自以为自己能很懂这个片子,想理解影片内涵的人要需要大致和导演相似的知识背景,这是必须的嘛。
现在他已经从纳粹科学家,经肮脏的“洗白”归化程序,而成为美国核战争的技术总负责人,鉴于核武器的特殊用途,他同时也是总统的冷战战略顾问,出席最高军事会议。而且,最后核战危机不可收拾的时刻,全体官僚、将军都要问计于他!这里的暗示已经很清楚。
注意片子对博士身体上设置的几个暗喻。
1. 他的那个假肢右臂,力量强大但又难以自制,时时忍不住行纳粹军礼,时时想扼死自己。(这是一个暗喻,手臂指什么?)
2. 在提出核战末日应对预案时,博士的兴奋胜于恐惧,甚至兴奋得忘乎所以,语无伦次,声音高吭而颤抖,竟几次错误地把总统称为“我的元首!”(这是一个暗喻,元首指什么?)
3. 这个依靠轮椅行动的瘫子,竟然神迹般的站了起来,(这里很可能反用了圣经),见马太福音第9章经文:9:2 有人用褥子抬着一个瘫子,到耶稣跟前来。耶稣见他们的信心,就对瘫子说,小子,放心吧。你的罪赦了。 此经常规的解释见
http://www.hislambs.net/axr/luguang/jdj1-26.htm注意,片子最后一句对白也是博士以兴奋、扭曲甚至有些许恐怖声音说:“我的元首,我,我站起来了!”这是一个暗喻,瘫子和站立指什么?)
奇爱博士这个人物的设定,实际是说:冷战下的美国不仅要依靠纳粹军事科技,还必须依靠纳粹政治思维才能生存下去。如同片中,奇爱博士不只提供核威慑的技术性咨询,最后还为总统及全体官僚提出了一个核战后“矿井社会”荒谬的整体社会规划!换句话说,纳粹主义已经在冷战阴影下慢慢复活了——瘫子最终神迹般的站了起来就是一种象征。(个人观点,未经导演本人确认呵呵)
3、口是心非的冷战式“和平”
片子里有个诙谐戏剧因素,口口声声标榜倾向和平的人们实际上都是大战争贩子,这些情节另片子长生了很不错的幽默效果。比如,
满嘴外交辞令、装的一本三正经的的苏联大使阁下,实际上是个兼职窃照特务,而且窃照职业病还控制不住,偷拍成癖;
战略值班轰炸机基地是保证美国毁灭红色世界(当然地球也会全毁)的最后保证,基地的宣传栏却大书:我们的职业是和平;
属于人民的苏共总理,命令设计了被动式引爆的末日装置,敌人的任何核攻击会启动这个地球的毁灭,且污染物持续100年。值得玩味的,美国人听到这消息几乎没有人恐惧,而是把它归为讹诈伎俩。
总统的电话,为了解释误会,大说“扫瑞”那段,几乎成了中国相声。
巴克将军是口是心非冷战式“和平”的集中表演者,他给总统汇报瑞皮发了疯擅自发动R计划时,大家可以看到他实际上是兴奋得不能自制,但在总统面前还要板着脸悔过这次指挥“失误”。说了没一会儿,就转到了怂恿总统将计就计、全面进攻苏联的新话题了。当全部飞机召回,可怜的巴克选入了深深的失望,但苏共总理抗议有一架漏网时,他几乎高兴得手舞足蹈:太妙了,又可以毁灭苏联——全部公产主义——以及整个地球了!!!
(P.S.鸟笼山的傻大木台词,也有异曲同工之妙:“等我把地球毁灭了,我给你们发奖金!” 真可媲美了。)
4.敌意+封闭+疯狂=冷战式隔阂
影片的故事发生地主要有三处:
一是美国国防部作战室;高不见顶的巨大黑暗空间,只有聚光灯下巨大的会议圆桌前一张张政要的面孔,以及那幅大板苏联地图;
二是KONG机长的B-52轰炸机座舱、控制室和炸弹舱,一派性质盎然的节日气氛;
三是空军基地的外景和办公室内景。
片子一开始。三者之间据不再有沟通关系,各行其是,因为打冷战、怕窃听、反间谍、被敌人干扰一系列专业味道十足的理由,封闭了几乎所有的沟通渠道。
即使在每一个场景内,人与人之间也难以沟通。驰援机场的小队被守军无情的伏击,是为了防止俄军冒充偷袭;面对英国副手,瑞皮语言时而大谈其“体液哲学”,时而不着边际,时而疯人疯语;作战室里的热线电话打嘴架,军事官僚们对总统的战争诱惑、话题转移,与苏联大使的斗嘴和扭打。
库布里克运用“隔阂”来叙事,在讲不清道理的困境中,将道理讲清了,呵呵,形成了独特的叙事风格。
5。角色七人谈
彼得在片子里一人演三角
第一个是美国空军基地司令副官曼德里克,典型文职英国空军,娘娘腔,有些雌化,总把绅士文雅字眼挂嘴上,这一副手也恰恰符合了冷战形势中“英国是美国的跟班"的说法。曼德里克再美国老大面前很胆小,软弱,温顺,显得有些,但是骨子里还是有点小倔强、责任感的,这个小人物似乎比那些大人物们要更人性一些。
第二个是戴眼镜、大秃顶的美国总统,思维有些乱,说话有点飘,片中给他个人的头部特写镜头几乎没有,总都是把他“淹没”在一群政客幕僚的簇拥之中,大厅的黑暗更显得他渺小、不重要。也许是表现,他不过是一个职业政客身份特征,刻画出了他毫无主见。
第三个是奇爱博士,核心人物,一个笑容略带智慧、轻蔑与滑稽的核战策划家。虽然是坐着轮椅残疾人(暗喻遭到重创的纳粹主义),但是他和伟大的纳粹元首一样,长于演说鼓动、感情丰富、易激动、动作幅度特别大、时不时地习惯性抽动僵硬的躯体,满天吐沫星子的大谈其末日设想,给人的印象绝对的深刻。这个人物在影片中的显得非常突兀抢眼,他究竟代表着什么呢,也许他并不代表着某个人,应该是代表冷战、核战的精神源头。
这三个人,你看得出来都是一个演员演得么?向老库致敬吧各位
第四个是空军基地司令瑞皮,意识形态中毒深重的战争狂人,注意,导演多次用仰角镜头拍摄他的脸部特色,那根大雪茄不正代表着他的雄型勃起么。
第五个,轰炸机指挥官“刚”少校,又是个意识形态中毒深重的战争狂人,他切断一切与外界的联系,开始兴奋,发表激进的演说来激励下属,最后骑着核弹头兴奋呼叫着,掉下去实现了他的核战英雄梦
第六个,巴克将军似乎对和平不关心,还是个意识形态中毒深重的战争狂人,当然对女人除外,他对性感的女秘书竟然说着儿语调情。但是一旦得知事态的严重,他慌神得比谁都厉害,在作战室内的滑稽举动,他不是不安,而是内心兴奋与激动,和“刚”少校不相上下。
第七个,巴克的女秘书兼情人,这是片中唯一的女人,所以不得不提,出现的场景极其有限,基本就是个花瓶。政治与女人无关,但是与性有关。看看不多的几个镜头的色情味,难道还不够性暗示么?
2010.5.31再次修改
这部影片的片名很值得玩味
中文叫奇爱博士,但英文名其实很长,而且很值得玩味
《Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb》
这个片名很长,而且有点让人摸不着头脑。
首先是Strangelove,直译过来是奇怪的爱。那是对于什么有着奇怪的爱呢?影片的另一半片名给出了答案(love the bomb)
原来是对炸弹,即战争暴力,的狂热之爱。
本片的主旨,是批判,讽刺冷战背景下,人类在政治的推力下,终将被暴力和战争以一种荒谬但又符合逻辑的方式反噬。同时,从片头一升一降得空中加油,到贴满美女海报的机舱,影片中还包含了大量的性暗示。
之所以这样安排,是因为性和暴力,都是人类基因里最原始的欲望和冲动。
战争无疑是释放并放大这种罪恶的欲望的最大平台了。一个人的暴力,可以理解为打架,斗殴,而全人类的暴力,就是战争了。在战争的背书下,烧杀抢夺,奸淫掳掠好像都变合理了。
而没有约束的性,往往是伴随着征服,暴力,共同出现的,想想古代攻破一座城池,征服一个国家或者民族后,有多少强奸伴随着发生?
同时,Strangelove也是本片重要角色的名字,但为什么却直到影片中段才刚出场,甚至在整部影片中都没有太多戏份呢?
个人认为,奇爱博士在片中是纳粹极端思想的继承者,隐藏得非常深,几乎直到影片结尾才表明,如果不是因为和片名同名,大部分观众在前期观影的过程中很可能都不会对这样一个角色有太多关注,导演可能借此想表达的是,像这样不显山漏水,但内心却怀揣着极端思想,想要颠覆人类的狂热分子,很有可能就潜伏在我们身边,很可能就是一个不怎么引起关注的人,即使是和平年代,只要有机会,随时都会被他抓住机会搞一波事。
至于究竟要怎么停止对核爆的焦虑呢?(“How I Learned to Stop Worrying”) 影片里好像没有明说,这其实就是答案了。因为根本不用刻意学习或者说明,跟着制定好的规则和政策,被推着走就行了,就好像片中指令发出后无法撤销,也是之前制定的规则所决定的。
焦虑只会发生在一切没有发生前,真的发生了也就那么回事,就好像憋尿,憋的时候好着急,到处找厕所,可一旦真的没憋住,尿裤子了,其实也就那么回事,感觉还暖暖的,挺舒服。
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Mein Führer, I can walk!
黑色战争片,战争与男人,战争与性,导演描述得太隐晦太有魅力了。最后昆少将骑着导弹轰炸敌人阵地,实在太酷了,那是每个男 性的梦想。
Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the War Room!
7.0 最好的政治讽刺剧没有之一。库布里克用这部氟化水一般的电影玷污了战争机器们最纯洁的体液。
库布里克从来不让人失望
给库爷跪了,不仅仅是起源的设想者,还是末日的预言者啊,他大概不是地球人。演博士的哥分饰三个角色,不仅让观众来劲,他自己也一定爽得要命吧
94/100 你知道把整个时代的恐惧和幻想如此直观的拍出来有多难吗?
正经的喜剧,通篇的讽刺,疯子的忧伤,好看得丧心病狂。
第一次接触库布里克的片子,倍受打击~~
液体的纯洁
三大场景:机舱、作战室、基地。过半场登场龙套男奇爱博士。骑氢弹的牛仔。向可口可乐公司要硬币的英国绅士。
想想也是理所當然,如果一場核爆為男人帶來的不是恐懼而是破處似的快感,他們當然會從此開始大幹特幹呀……
虽然是冷战的时代背景,但达摩克利斯之剑高悬于人类头顶的事实远没有改变。在漫长的最后一分钟营救中,展现官僚的无能、人性的罪恶、和某种奇异的幽默感,在世界还未毁灭时他们已经想着在新世界瓜分利益了(以人类之名),对俄国、英国、德国人都采取了典型化处理。极端的戏剧冲突展示深刻的当代现实。
没看懂,好像有黑色幽默的地方在嘛就是觉得不好笑...科幻控可能会看懂?
你可以毁灭世界,但不许在作战室打架!这里是作战室!
Dr. Strangelove比Dr. Strange更懂爱。
彼得塞勒斯和乔治斯科特都逗不过那个德州口音的机长
这个译名太囧了,看的好累中间还睡了,大脑都空白了。哦天
当年此片竟然全面败给窈窕淑女,奥斯卡这哪是中庸保守,根本就是脑残。