《王者之心》是一部融合了劇情、動(dòng)作、愛(ài)情、冒險(xiǎn)和古裝元素的電影。故事背景設(shè)定在中世紀(jì)，羅馬帝國(guó)已經(jīng)滅亡，英格蘭被各個(gè)勢(shì)力分割占領(lǐng)，而愛(ài)爾蘭國(guó)王則趁機(jī)聚集勢(shì)力，企圖奪取英格蘭。主角特里斯坦是一位傳奇騎士，他失去了雙親，被馬克王悉心撫養(yǎng)長(zhǎng)大，二人關(guān)系親密。愛(ài)爾蘭國(guó)王決定以自己的女兒為獎(jiǎng)品舉辦全英騎士大賽，特里斯坦為馬克王贏得了公主，但當(dāng)他見(jiàn)到公主的真面目時(shí)，他感到震驚。原來(lái)，在他受傷時(shí)，得到了神秘的愛(ài)爾蘭女子伊索爾德的照顧，兩人相愛(ài)了。然而，為了馬克王的統(tǒng)一大業(yè)，他們不得不分離。特里斯坦和伊索爾德如何面對(duì)這份愛(ài)情？愛(ài)爾蘭國(guó)王的陰謀是否會(huì)威脅到馬克王的統(tǒng)一大業(yè)？這些問(wèn)題將在電影中逐漸揭曉?！锻跽咧摹吠ㄟ^(guò)精彩的劇情和動(dòng)作場(chǎng)景，展現(xiàn)了中世紀(jì)英雄故事的魅力，同時(shí)也展現(xiàn)了特里斯坦和伊索爾德之間的深情廝守。觀眾們將被帶入一個(gè)充滿冒險(xiǎn)和浪漫的古裝世界，感受到愛(ài)情與使命的交織與糾葛。

第二次劍刺來(lái)的時(shí)候我迎了上去，讓它對(duì)準(zhǔn)第一次的傷口。

那是我的痛處，曾經(jīng)鮮血淋淋，你用愛(ài)包扎了它。

你給我療傷時(shí)我就預(yù)感還會(huì)受傷，命中注定，我不打算逃了。

愛(ài)情魔藥嗎？我從沒(méi)喝過(guò)。你喝了嗎？

我們的故事太簡(jiǎn)單了，我替別人為你決斗卻贏得了你。不可思議，后人都這么說(shuō)，是呀，可我們本意并非如此。

潮濕的愛(ài)爾蘭，晨霧迷失了我的心。

我殺了你的情人，戰(zhàn)場(chǎng)上我是贏家。我贏了卻也受到重創(chuàng)，受了只有愛(ài)情才能愈合的傷。失去愛(ài)情，傷口就會(huì)流血，就像現(xiàn)在一樣，鋸齒般的傷口，鮮血淋漓，浸濕了床。

我不在乎死，可你出于憐憫收留了我，因?yàn)槟悴恢牢业拿?。我告訴你我叫坦特里斯，你愛(ài)上了坦特里斯。

“假如我是特里斯坦你會(huì)怎么樣？”我有一天這樣問(wèn)你，你的臉色蒼白，拿起了一把匕首。你完全有權(quán)利殺我，我迎向匕首，深吸一口氣，在閉上眼睛之前我笑了。

等我睜開(kāi)眼睛時(shí)，你已放下匕首握住了我的手。我覺(jué)得自己像個(gè)孩子，不是英雄，不是勇士，也不是情人，只是躺在大床上的小孩兒，世界圍著他轉(zhuǎn)，如夢(mèng)如幻，悠悠蕩蕩。

房間很高，藍(lán)色。鈷藍(lán)色。有橘黃的爐火，你碧綠的眼睛。愛(ài)情的顏色讓人目眩神迷無(wú)法忘懷，現(xiàn)在，躺在這里，血已把床單浸成褐色，而我滿眼卻是鈷藍(lán)、橘黃、碧綠、一個(gè)躺在大床上的小男孩兒。

你在哪里?

沉默。你在我旁邊坐下。這會(huì)兒你是強(qiáng)者，我雙膝無(wú)力。你輕輕撫摩我的手，似乎在觸摸我的靈魂。在那之前，一回回戰(zhàn)役，一次次負(fù)傷，都讓我更清楚我是誰(shuí)，我是特里斯坦?，F(xiàn)在，我的名字消失了，我自己也消失了，只有一個(gè)失魂落魄的男人。

在起錨返回康沃爾時(shí)，你出來(lái)了，站在一塊窄窄的巖石上，我們望著彼此，漸行漸遠(yuǎn)，遠(yuǎn)到只有我們才能分辨哪里是巖石哪里是船哪里是人。

海茫茫，天到了盡頭。

后來(lái)馬克王派我來(lái)迎你成親。

你說(shuō)你要?dú)⑺牢摇?br>
我再一次迎向匕首，你再一次丟下匕首。

你的侍女端來(lái)飲料，我知道你想毒死我。康沃爾的峭壁下，馬克王在船上等候我們的到來(lái)，我一飲而盡，等待命運(yùn)的安排。侍女給的是水。你喝了卻倒下了，我奔過(guò)去抱住你，這時(shí)水手們落下了錨船傾向一側(cè)，我第一次把你抱在懷里，你喚我的名字：“特里斯坦?！?br>
我應(yīng)了：“伊索爾德”

伊索爾德。那時(shí)起我的世界只有你了。

我們?cè)谝雇聿呕钸^(guò)來(lái)，你窗口的火燭是我的信號(hào)，點(diǎn)燃時(shí)我藏秘，熄滅時(shí)我就來(lái)找你——穿過(guò)隱秘的門(mén)、幽暗的走廊、禁行的樓梯，不顧恐懼和操守，我進(jìn)入了你，你包容了我。在床上我們可以昏睡可以做夢(mèng)，侍女的哀哭也只是小鳥(niǎo)和小狗在叫。我從不愿醒來(lái)。白天我是死的，陽(yáng)光不能給我溫暖。只有在這里，沒(méi)有太陽(yáng)，沒(méi)有時(shí)間，我們才是自由的，囚禁在彼此的身體里，我們自由了。

我的朋友梅洛特設(shè)下圈套時(shí)，我想我是知道的。我盼望死神，正如我的身體渴望愛(ài)情。讓死神走近我正如你走近我。你滲入我的傷口循著我的血液回游到我的心臟，你在我的身體里流動(dòng)，讓我在你臂彎中像處子一樣赧然羞紅，你在我的心跳里，在我的體液里，在我的骨肉里，如果我割開(kāi)自己，傷口里流出來(lái)的是你，只要血還在流，你又會(huì)重回我的心里。

那場(chǎng)混戰(zhàn)中，馬克王發(fā)現(xiàn)了我們，我死守住門(mén)口讓你逃走。之后，我和梅洛特拔劍相向，那是我的朋友，我信任的朋友，我扔下劍，撲向他的劍鋒，劍從肋骨下穿入還未愈合的傷口，撕裂了。

我醒來(lái)后發(fā)現(xiàn)我在這里，隔著大海，在我自己的城堡里，是仆人護(hù)衛(wèi)我來(lái)的。他說(shuō)已派人去接你，海上該有船帆了吧？它該像愛(ài)一樣疾馳不是嗎？仆人爬到了瞭望塔上，海上沒(méi)有船帆。

我把手伸進(jìn)傷口里，她的名字從我指間滴落：伊索爾德，你在哪里？



特里斯坦，我也沒(méi)有喝那東西。沒(méi)有什么愛(ài)情魔藥，只有愛(ài)，我喝下的是你。

特里斯坦，醒一醒，別死。讓我們分享完黑夜，明早再一起死。

他的目光已經(jīng)空洞，他的呼吸已經(jīng)停止。我最初看見(jiàn)他的時(shí)候，他就是這樣平靜，蒼白。我用吻給他注入生命，他永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)知道了。

特里斯坦，這世界的存在只是讓我們找到彼此，世界正在消失，海潮吞沒(méi)陸地，我的脈搏隨著你一起衰竭，死亡會(huì)把我們從分離的折磨中解救出來(lái)，我不能和你分開(kāi)，我就是你。

這世界空無(wú)一物，是愛(ài)造就了它。

當(dāng)世界煙消云散。

只有愛(ài)還在。

______________

以上是Jeanette Winterson寫(xiě)的Some wounds never heal，我已經(jīng)盡力了，但原文那種悲傷和絕望的味道還是沒(méi)翻出來(lái)。

Tristan & Isolde的傳說(shuō)起源于中世紀(jì)，頭一個(gè)版本是蘇格蘭國(guó)王Talorc的兒子Drust從海盜手里救的一位公主，父子同時(shí)愛(ài)上她。

故事傳到威爾士，Drust變成了Drystan，愛(ài)上了他的叔叔March國(guó)王（March的意思是屁股的耳朵，反正他身體有殘疾就對(duì)了）的王后Essyllt。

十三世紀(jì)，一個(gè)英國(guó)作家讓Tristan加入了圓桌騎士，他自幼被送往法蘭西，在戰(zhàn)斗中中了矛毒前往愛(ài)爾蘭救治，在那里得到安格西Iseult公主的治療，他教她彈豎琴，后因種種原因被驅(qū)逐。之后他替舅父瑪爾克王向Iseult求婚，為安格西王打敗敵人，甚至連安格西王也希望他娶自己的女兒，但那個(gè)傻瓜為了遵守諾言而將她帶回與舅父結(jié)婚。之后他憑借自己的勇猛獲得了許多榮譽(yù)，引起瑪爾克王的妒恨和陷害，這對(duì)情人的關(guān)系也歷經(jīng)磨難，Tristan被迫結(jié)婚，不過(guò)他始終忠于Iseult，對(duì)妻子守之以禮。后來(lái)Tristan誤會(huì)Iseult變心以致癲狂在曠野游蕩，她以為他已死而差點(diǎn)自刎……最后他終于帶她去了英格蘭，可以執(zhí)手偕老了，卻在聆聽(tīng)愛(ài)人彈豎琴的時(shí)候，被情敵謀殺。一個(gè)有趣的事情是，那時(shí)的人顯然相信愛(ài)情必須借助魔力來(lái)催發(fā)，所以Iseult的陪嫁就是有愛(ài)情魔藥，他們倆為誤飲付出了一生。

這種愛(ài)情模式也套在亞瑟王身上，就是著名的Lancelot和Guinevere的愛(ài)情，在早期的版本中這兩人挺清白，后不斷流傳中才添了桃色，甚至紅過(guò)了Tristan和Iseult，到19世紀(jì)，它被德國(guó)劇作家Richard Wagner改編成歌劇Tristan and Isolde。

有興趣的可以去這里看整個(gè)故事隨時(shí)代的演繹：
http://www.timelessmyths.com/arthurian/tristan.html

Tristan & Isolde凄美哀婉，它感動(dòng)過(guò)很多同病相憐的藝術(shù)家，Wagner肯定是一個(gè)，Jeanette Winterson也應(yīng)該是吧（反正看她的文章，就覺(jué)得她經(jīng)歷過(guò)的坎坷肯定不止一次），還有好萊塢大導(dǎo)演Ridley Scott，當(dāng)年，當(dāng)兩個(gè)劇本擺在他面前的時(shí)候，他選擇了《異形》，功成名就。

20多年后，大約一直午夜夢(mèng)回念念不能忘，終于把這個(gè)中世紀(jì)愛(ài)情故事搬上了銀幕。

這部片子讓人想起First Knight，又名: 第一武士 / 劍俠風(fēng)流 / 第一騎士 / 劍俠柔情，Sean Connery和Richard Gere這兩個(gè)好萊塢不同年代第一小生聯(lián)手演繹Lancelot和Guinevere的故事，也非常好看，不輸這部。
http://www.douban.com/subject/1299363/

先看評(píng)論再看電影完全左右了我的心情，James Franco確實(shí)一副很少出太陽(yáng)的憂郁表情，和很早逝的James Dean一個(gè)模子，James Dean我只看過(guò)一部，他真的從頭到尾一個(gè)表情，居然火得不行。巧合的是James Franco還出演過(guò)James Dean。
http://www.douban.com/subject/1866354/


附守望燈塔原文，有興趣可以看看，別忘了準(zhǔn)備面巾紙。

Some wounds never heal

Jeanette Winterson

The second time the sword went in, I aimed it at the place of the first.
I am weak there─the place where I had been found out before. My weakness was skinned over by your love.
I knew when you healed me that the wound would open again. I knew it like destiny, and at the same time, I knew it as choice.
The love-potion? I never drank it. Did you?

Our story is so simple. I went to bring you back for someone else, and won you for myself. Magic, they all said later, and it was, but not the kind that can be brewed.

We were in Ireland. Was there ever a country so damp? I had to write out my mind to think clearly. I was a morning mist of confusion.
You had a lover. I killed him. It was war and your man was on the losing side. As I killed him, he fatally wounded me; that is, he gave me the wound that only love could repair. Love lost, and the wound would be as bloody as ever. As bloody as now,

bed-soaked and jagged.

I didn't care about dying. But you took me in out of pity because you didn't know my name. I told you it was Tantrist, and as Tantrist you loved me.
'What if I was Tristan?' I asked you one day, and I watched you grow pale, and take a dagger. You had every right to kill me.

I turned my throat to you, Adam's apple twitching slightly, but before I closed my eyes, I smiled.

When I opened them again, you had put down the dagger and you were holding my hand. I felt like a little child, not a hero, not a warrior, not a lover, only a boy in a big bed, the day turning round him, dreamy and slow.
The room was high and blue. Cobalt blue. There was an orange fire. Your eyes were green. Lost in the colours of our love I never forgot them, and now, lying here, where the sheets are brown with my blood, it is blue and orange and green I remember.

A little boy in a big bed.
Where are you?

We said nothing. You sat beside me. You were the strong one. I couldn't stand up. Holding my hand, and stroking it gently with your finger and thumb, you touched in me another world. Until then, through wounds and wreck, I had been sure of myself.

I was Tristan. Now, my name gone backwards, I went backwards myself, unraveling into strands of feeling. This stranded man.
When it was time for me to sail back to Cornwall, you came out and stood on a narrow rock, and we watched each other so far that only we two knew what was rock or boat or human.
The sea was empty. The sky was shut.

Then King Marke sent me to fetch you to be his wife.
You said you wanted to kill me.
Again I opened my body to you. Again you dropped the blade.

When your servant brought the drink I knew you intended to poison me. Under the cliffs of Cornwall, the King in his boat ready to meet us, I drank the water, because that's what it was. Your servant had given me water. You drank too, and fell to the floor, and I went to catch you and hold you as the men dropped anchor and the ship lurched. You were in my arms for the first time, and you said my name, 'Tristan.'
I answered you: 'Isolde.'
Isolde. The world became a word.

We lived for the night. The torch in your window was my signal. When it was lit, I stayed away. When you extinguished it, I came to you─secret doors, dark corridors, forbidden stairs, brushing aside fear and propriety like cobwebs. I was inside you. You contained me. Together, in bed, we could sleep, we could dream, and if we heard your servant's mournful cry, we called it a bird or a dog. I never wanted to wake. I had no use for the day. The light was a lie. Only here, the sun killed,
and time's hands bound, were we free. Imprisoned in each other, we were free.

When my friend Melot set the trap, I think I knew it. I turned to death full face, as I had turned to love with my whole body.?I would let death enter me as you had entered me. You had crept along my blood vessels through the wound, and the blood that circulates returns to the heart. You circulated me, you made me blush like a girl in the hoop of your hands. You were in my arteries and my lymph, you were the colour just under my skin, and if I cut myself, it was you I bled. Red Isolde, alive on my fingers, and always the force of blood pushing you back to my heart.

In the fight when Marke found us, I fought at the door until you escaped. Then I face Melot at last, my friend, my trusted friend, and I held my sword at him, red with blood. As he lifted his sword against me, I threw mine down and ran his through my body, at the bottom of my ribs. The skin, still shy of healing, opened at once.
When I woke, I was here, in my own castle, across the sea, carried and guarded by my servant. He told me he had sent for you, yes surely there was a sail? I could see it swift as love. He climbed into the watchtower, but there was no sail.
I put my hand into the bloody gap at the bottom of my ribs. Her name drips through my fingers: Isolde.
Where are you?





Tristan, I didn't drink it either. There was no love-potion, only love. It was you I drank.
Tristan, wake up. Don't die of the wound. Divide the night with me, and die together in the morning.
His eye is pale, his breathing is still. When I first saw him, he was still and pale, and I kissed him into life, though he never knew that was the art I used.
Tristan, the world was made so that we could find each other in it. Already the world is fading, returning to the sea. My pulse ebbs with yours. Death frees us from the torment of parting. I cannot part with you. I am you.
The world is nothing. Love formed it.
The world vanishes without trace.
What is left is love.

這篇影評(píng)有劇透