住货车的女士

   很有趣的一部英伦小片。前阵子一直在补奥斯卡 突然看到这部 英国的乡村、艳丽的小车、 穿着啊谈吐很多细节凑在一起，反倒有种说不上来的喜欢。以剧作家为主视角，画外音是他的剧本，辞藻华丽的有点夸张却有一种英式冷幽默。
   当然是冲着Maggie Smith去看的 英国国宝级老太太。唐顿庄园的时候就爱极了她 这又隔了几年看着Maggie明明已经老的无处可藏可她的动作神态台词却依然那么有活力那么有趣。刷车/轮椅/游乐园/救护车每次看Maggie演高兴的样子就会不由自主跟着欢乐 这是Maggie独有的难得的感染力。
   回看的时候才发现其实开头的两分钟里包含了后面所有的悬念 随后伏笔也是无处不在的 飞扬跋扈的老太看见警车却慌张的钻到车下 听见邻居琴声便极尽毒舌之能事。事实上 梗铺的越深才让故事越有滋味。
   或许把老太的故事充盈的过为丰富 梦想也好救赎也罢 最终还是一个打破孤独感的故事。作家孤独的都double了却不愿与自己老年痴呆的老母合住 是嫌弃还是什么我还真的说不好。同时导演又有意无意的把老太和作家的母亲联系在一起 例如社区街道上的巨蟒与母亲家门口的四只孔雀（看到孔雀的那瞬真是仰天长笑hhhh 但作家却很乐于与这位奇怪的老太合住 是怜悯还是渴望陪伴我也说不好，好像一层微妙的关系连接着彼此。
  原以为会逐渐温情 可英国人总是冷不丁又给你一句满含深意的台词 谢泼德小姐对作家说You have used your mother, now you can use me. 老太步入生命的终点 作家便越发对自己曾经对这个近在咫尺的女人的冷漠嫌弃耿耿于怀，直到最终化为一丝羞愧。我觉得这个故事想传达的重点就在这儿了。人与人的交往是相互的 从作家的角度看谢泼德小姐打破了他的孤独却没有打破他内心的偏见和傲娇 包括强迫自己不去写不去想创作关于她的故事 这源于许多人这辈子都跨不过的本能冷漠 即使所有人都认为他是个好心肠的圣人他自己却依旧不能妥协。而对谢泼德小姐来说这15年的“霸占”已是一场巨大的胜利 无厘头的升天真是神来之笔 一段剧情片里不该有的特效 最后的最后调皮的老太太用这样的方式去表达释怀，释怀了自己也释怀了作家 让这段交往的时光写进作品 变得有意义。妙极。
  我想可能不会再有这么适合80岁的Maggie再能拍的本了。

Mr Bennet : Shouldn't you say sorry?
Mary: I've no time for sorry.
          Sorry is for God.

Caring is not a word I like, caring is about shit.

The social work: She told me you don't encourage her to get out and lead a more purposeful life and put obstacles in her way.
Mr Bennet: I don't encourage her to think she can become the prime minister. I do encourage her to try and get to the supermarket.
-- Yes. A carer will often feel that....
--Excuse me. May I stop you? Do not call me the carer. I am not the carer. I hate caring. I hate the thought. I hate the word. I do not care, and I do not care for. I am here, she is there. There is no caring.

Mr Bennet: Mary, as you call her, is bigoted, blinkered, cantankerous, devious, unforgiving, self-serving, rank, rude, car-mad cow.

「Boa constrictors in the street, peacocks on the wall. It seems that both at the northern and southern gates of my life stands a deluded woman.」


「There were few occasions on which one saw her genuinely happy, and one of these was when she was putting paint on.」


「If you choose to live like this, it's what you must expect. → I didn't choose. I was chosen.」


「Good-nature, or what is often considered as such, is the most selfish of all virtues; it is nine times out of ten mere indolence of disposition. <On Good-Nature> by William Hazlitt from 'The Round Table' (1816)」


「This is London. Nobody thinks anything.」


「It's like a fairy story. A parable, in which the guilty is gulled into devising a sentence for someone innocent only to find it is their own doom they have pronounced.」


「That was what God wanted. And that I'd been told before. I said, couldn't I just play some hymns for us to sing to? And she said that was arguing. And I'd never make a nun if I argued.」


「You write about her all the time, one way or anoter. You use your mother.
↓
That's what writers do.
↓
Me next, I suppose.」


「You don't understandably resent it when the professionals lend a hand.
↓
No, though I resent it when the professionals turn up every three months or so and try to tell me what this woman, whom I have coped with on a daily basis for the past 15 years, is like.
↓
What is she like?
↓
Mary, as you call her, is a bigoted, blinkered, cantankerous, devious, unforgiving, self-serving, rank, rude, car-mad cow. Which is to say nothing of her flying faeces and her ability to extrude from her withered buttocks turds of such force that they land a yard from the back of the van and their presumed point of exit.」


「Mr. Bennett. Mr. Bennett. That social worker wanted to know my next of kin. I don't want my next of kin broadcast, so I said I didn't have any. Only, they're in this envelope. And you keep it under your hat.」


「The chair goes up on a lift. And in this small ascension, when she slowly rises above the level of the garden wall, there is a vagabond nobility about her. A derelict Nobel Prize winner, she looks, her grimy face set in a kind of resigned satisfaction.」


「Music. How are people supposed to avoid it? You see, I had it at my fingertips. I had it in my bones. I could play in the dark. Had to sometimes. And the keys were like rooms. C major and D minor. Dark rooms and light rooms. Just like a mansion to me, music. Only it worried me, that playing came easier than praying. And I said this, which may have been an error.
↓
Said to whom?
↓
My confessor. He said that was another vent the devil could creep through. So, he outlawed the piano. Put paid to music generally. Said dividends would accrue in terms of growth of the spirit. Which they did. They did.」


「Mr.Bennett? Hold my hand. It's clean.」


「It is a van no longer. It is a sepulchre. Even now, I do not venture into this evil-smelling tomb. But I feel cheated that the discovery of the body has not actually been mine and that having observed so much for so long. I'm not the first to witness her death. Now, in quick succession, come the doctor, the priest and men from the undertaker's, all of whom do what no one else has done for 20 years. Namely, without pause and seemingly without distaste, step inside the van.」


「Mr. Bennett? I came into your drive for three months and I stayed for 15 years! Mr. Bennett? Do you know what that is? It's the last laugh.」


「Well, she wanted an ascension. Let's answer her prayers. Stand by, Miss Mary Teresa Shepherd, late of 23 Gloucester Crescent. Up you go.」


「Starting out as someone incidental to my life, she remained on the edge of it so long, she became not incidental to it at all. As homebound sons and daughters looking after their parents think of it as just marking time before their lives start, so, like them, I learned there is no such thing as marking time and that time marks you. In accommodating her and accommodating to her, I find 20 years of my life has gone. This broken-down old woman, her delusions, and the slow abridgement of her life, with all its vehicular permutations, these have been given to me to record.」


「What I've learnt, and maybe she taught me, is that you don't put yourself into what you write. You find yourself there.」


「Have a bit more in my life. I might even start living. That's the end of the story. It might make a play. What do you think?
↓
Now I'm here, I think you should stop talking to yourself.」


「Gloucester Crescenrt has had many notable residents, but none odder or more remarkable than Miss Mary Shepherd, to whom we dedicate this blue plaque today.」


「MISS M.T. SHEPHERD "The Lady in the Van" live here 1974-1989」

平淡的本子 确是深深的记忆点
泪目泪目 钢琴声动听 和故事完美相融
Hold my hands,It's clean. 结尾还放大招的台词

想起来看过的熔炉 最后大概有这样的话 ：我们努力生活 不是为了改变世界 而是为了不让世界改变我们。

住在货车里的老太太 本来人生轨迹是和音乐相伴 却因为时代的不可控 因为善良的人本就要比其他人活得辛苦 而落魄逃亡 将宿命寄予窄小的货车。珍惜这个可以按照自由意志去生活的时代。

作家真的是个好人 原本的三个月 慢慢变成十五年 他和老太太相互救赎 相互关怀着 。我们现在好好的生活着 但生命总会消逝 坦诚一点 多一点善意 总是好的。there is no such thing as marking time and that time marks you.

骗子 谁分到喜剧类的 哭太多了……

喜欢有故事的人，这个住货车的女人当然是相当有故事的！最后那次握手，我居然红了眼眶湿了鼻子，似乎感觉到一生的选择。每个人都会有这么一天，可是不是每个人都那么耐人寻味，即便肮脏随便的活着，她都是内心干净独特的！一个人要保持按照自己的意念在这世上真不容易！与其隔岸观火看着别人生活和说着故事，倒是更羡慕生活在故事其中！做一个有故事的人！