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Author: Roger Ebert
Translation: Ada
Proofreading: TranceTree
In 1978, the rock opera Pink Floyd: The Wall premiered, coinciding with the era of serious rock. At this time, the Beatles and Stones recorded a number of independent singles, mostly theme albums; The Who produced "Tommy" and "Quadrophenia" in 1969 and 1973, respectively.
David Bowie and Genesis followed, and pink Freud: The Wall of Puzzles finally put an end to the chapter.
"The Wall" doesn't have much fun to "listen" to, and some viewers don't even think it's much fun to "watch", but this 1982 work is undoubtedly the best of all serious rock fiction films.
Watching it again now in this increasingly cautious era is even bolder than when I first saw it in Cannes.
At the time, Alan Parker, a director who was interested in dabbling widely in a wide range of genres, collaborated with Gerald Skaff, a pungent British political cartoonist, to create an inherently experimental, independent film.
The film combines bizarre and powerful animation with surreal travel through memories and hallucinations that belong to a rock star who has overdose drugs, touching on sex, nuclear disarmament, war trauma, childhood abandonment, the hero's extreme uneasiness about women, and the lifestyle of a rock star when he is exhausted.
The only thing that is not depicted is the rock performance.
There are groupies, luxury cars, and personal managers in the film, but there are no real concert scenes; perhaps, but they are disguised as an extension of the popular adoration of a modern fascist dictator.
I don't think this dictator is deliberately portrayed as an allusion to hitler, Stalin, and other typical dictatorships, but rather more like the fantasies of the Nationalists in Britain led by Oswald Mosley.
Pink Floyd: The Wall was written almost entirely by the band's lead singer, the sane, self-dissected, and sometimes twisted Roger Waters. The protagonist is called Pink, played by Bob Golddorff, and of all the people, there is no one less like Pinker than him, and the credits say he is "introduced" to him.
He appears on screen more often than anyone else, experiencing harsh scenes and sometimes even singing, although this is not a performance film, but an essentially 95-minute music video.
In the film, Goldov transforms several standard rock star looks, all of which resemble other celebrities: a sex god with a big back, an attractive male leader, an anxious neurotic, and an addict who describes a withered tree.
In the most painful scenes, he shaves his entire body hair and bloodily reenacts Scorsese's famous short film "The Big Shave."
In another scene, he destroys a hotel room, presumably having carefully studied how the room was destroyed in Citizen Kane.
The scene includes a frightened fleshy skin (Jenny Wright) who escapes the room and curls up behind furniture without escaping directly into the aisle. Even more frightening was that Pinker almost hit her with a bottle and a piece of furniture, but he didn't seem to really realize she was there.
In the previous depiction, the girl cared deeply about him and was rather sweet. This sets her apart from the other women in the film.
Pinker's mother, for example, was crushed by the fact that her husband died on the battlefield to the point of doting on her son; Pinker's wife, alienated from him because of his walking dead isolation from life, eventually threw herself into the arms of an anti-war orator and had an affair with a man who knew what to care about.
The above are at least recognizable women, and the most bizarre and terrifying female figures in the film are created by Skaffer's animation.
This is such a gynecological flower that it is estimated that Georgia O'Keeffe will be horrified. She seduced a male flower, raped him, plundered him, and eventually devoured him. Presumably she reflected Pinker's fear of castration.
Skaff's forced twisting caused the flower to undergo a disturbing deformation, from a pigeon to a sharp eagle to a military plane, the terrain was destroyed, and walls and kicking hammers lined up from the ground.
As you can see, I'm not describing the music we expected. It is a bold, grim visualization of Waters's despair. The film incorporates themes that resonate with British audiences — an education system that is regulated by a gang of harsh, eccentric principals. One of the most famous songs in the whole play became the best scene.
Parker visualized "Another Brick in the Wall," in which a group of students are placed on a conveyor belt and sent to a chopper and crushed into ground meat. In the process, the students' original appearance disappears behind the blank mask, which can also be seen in the faces of those who follow the dictator.
The message is that education has produced a group of brainless creatures, either suitable for cannon fodder or puppets of fascists. I suspect Waters must not be waiting to see the alumni reunion.
Narrative exists, although Pink Floyd: The Wall of Puzzles does not specifically point out. The film suggests that Pinker has a personal feeling for his father's ordeal in the midst of war, growing up under overprotectiveness, unable to maintain a marriage, unable to gain pleasure through sexual indulgence, and eventually dissolving himself under the influence of drugs due to mental stress disorder.
The opening scene is then recreated, suggesting that the film was in Pink's mind when he was in a hotel room and occupied almost the same length as the film.
In the case of this film, the best audience will be those who understand the techniques of filmmaking, pay attention to the style of the director, and are familiar with Roger Waters and Pink Floyd. Although I know it has a hardcore fan, I can't imagine a rock fan admiring it the first time they watch it.
The film is worrying, depressing, and perfect, and the people who make it don't have much joy. I remember Alan Parker being a bit odd at the time, wikipedia saying he had argued with Waters and Skaffer and that the film was "one of the most tragic experiences of my creative career."
Waters himself concluded: "I found it to be so sensory that as a viewer, it didn't give me a chance to get in it anyway."
The film is so difficult, painful, and desperate, and the three most important artists in the creative process all have bad emotions when they withdraw. Why would anyone want to see it? Maybe it's because shooting something like this can't be a pleasant experience for anyone – now that it's taken seriously.
I believe Waters was driven by his contempt for the dark side of his own soul, for rock stars in general, and for himself in particular, and for all fanatical audiences.
In short, he created as an artist rather than an entertainer. Sir Alan Parker was a cheerful man, and though not without temper, there was no significant indication of associating the film with his works such as "The Commitments," "Fame," "Bugsy Malone," and even heavier ones like Shoot the Moon and Angela's Ash.
I can't say I really know Parker, but the time I spent on him was enough to make me realize that he wasn't naturally attracted to the subject.
I believe that the tensions and conflicts make the film that is most appropriate for this genre. Its makers can't be forced to have a good time.
I think of François Truffaut's statement that really touches my heart: "A film either expresses the joy of filmmaking or the pain of filmmaking." I'm not a little interested in anything between them."
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