《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》好看吗？经典观后感锦集
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》是一部由James Runcie执导，James Runcie / J·K·罗琳主演的一部纪录片类型的电影，特精心从网络上整理的一些观众的观后感，希望对大家能有帮助。
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》精选点评：
●"How would you like to be remembered?" "As someone who did the best she could with the talent she had."
●那年我还没有爱上这个那个世界
●记得祁老大说过：在每一个渴望成功的普通人心里一定住着一个非常强大的人。这是看完这部纪录片的最大感受。因为没字幕，有些没听懂。但很同意她最后回答how would you like to be remembered时说的：As someone who did the best she could with the talent she had. 与君共勉。
●看完觉得她不那么bitchy了。。。
●她说，“哈利波特的成功带给我自由。”——这就是财务自由的滋味吧。回顾当年一无所有时的小屋，她泪流满面。当时的心境还历历在目，无助也是。她通过书写实现了神迹，当你意识到自己就是神迹的一部分时，眼泪中也必然包含了被选中的战栗。
●“乔治还好吗？”“不，他当然不好。” 罗琳果然想象了更多的情节，但她也知道该在哪里停下。这点为她为读者们感到开心。看她在之前拼命写作的小屋子里泪流满面，愈发能理解写作对于作者而言永远是救赎，剥开自己成全自己。就像她所说的 “This flawed, vulnerable, damaged and yet still fighting, still loving still daring to love and daring to hope, soul, which is Harry (and J.K. Rowling herself)."
●"How would you like to be remembered?” “A someone who did her best she could with her talent she had"
●看完片子我明白为什么大结局是19年后大家婚姻幸福，儿女成群了。
●"How would you like to be remembered?" "As someone who did the best she could with the talent she had." Incredible woman.
●Impromptu questions很有胡一虎问答李总理的矫情赶脚。
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》观后感(一)：关于JK罗琳
说实话，在深刻地理解哈利波特之前，我对JK的理解停留在很表面的感觉上，断断续续看完关于哈利波特的纪录片和JK的一些采访，才明白能写出那样的作品，其实75%是之前的积淀。
JK本人有着作家的敏锐和对文字的掌控，同时又非常insecure，对于原则绝不退让，很清醒自己想要什么，我在很多方面都比较像她，尤其是在她讲到自己对于社会中的一部分人不愿意参与进解决社会不公、甚至都不愿意去了解问题的愤怒，我是完全related to her的。
包括她的童年和糟糕的青年时期，可以看得到一个具有内省特质的人在物欲和现实的世界里是如何清醒地挣扎和最大程度上保证自己有尊严地被裹挟的。她最后说到的“as someone who did her the best she could with the talent she had”，也是我想要做到的，被人们铭记的方式。我最欣赏的特质，也是宽容和勇气。
不知道我的生活可以糟糕到什么地步，但我永远会以我的方式与这个灰暗的世界抗争，永不服输。
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》观后感(二)：他任何与“思念他有关”的行为都将显得病态，因为“Part of Himself Died”
喜欢HP系列快十二年了，前些日子才知道几年前ITV有这么个纪录片，昨天才看完。诸如校长是基之类的新闻是完结篇出来后各种消息里看到了，还有各位人物之后的生活也多少有耳闻。比较想列在评论里的是下面这两段。
1. " ...And then Fred. Poor Fred died in 1997. And George.
A lot of readers asked me ,'Was George alright？'
Of course he wouldn't be all right,would he？ That's the reality. I can't - but I think that he married Angelina, who was actually Fred's ex, so you can...Maybe it's a bit 【unhealthy】（没错我打这么一段最想突出的就是这词）, but I think that they would've been happy, as happy as he could be without Fred. I think he would've felt ...like part of himself died.（还有这句）"
2. - What's your favorite virtue？
- Courage.
- What vice do you most despise？
- Bigotry.
- What are you most willing to forgive？
- Gluttony.
- What's your most marked characteristic？
- I'm a trier.
- What are you most afraid of？
- Losing someone I love.
- What's the quality you most like in a man？
- Morals.
- What's the quality you most like in a woman？
- Generosity.
- What do you most value about your friends？
- Tolerance.
- What's your principal defect？
- Short fuse.
- What's your favorite occupation？
- Writing.
- What's your dream of happiness？
- Happy family.
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》观后感(三)：What A Year！
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ITV年末帮Jo制作的一档45分钟左右的纪录片，期间拍摄者跟随Jo经历了2007年－－对于魔法妈妈Jo来说意义非凡的一年的各个重要时刻。
影片由对Jo简单的介绍开始，拍摄者与JO展开了一段小小的你问我答，问题有如
你最害怕的事？
失去所爱的人
你最喜欢的职业？
写作
你梦想的欢乐？
美满的家庭
展示了不少Jo小时候的照片，妹妹Diana也在旁边，咯咯笑个不停。黑发的戴和染了金发的琼在一起，虽然外表上一下子认不出是姐妹俩（我甚至把戴认成杰西卡了）但渐渐的，就能感觉出，的确是一对关系颇好的姊妹。Jo显得开朗很多，在看到自己长满雀斑的小脸时也不禁莞尔。（红头发，雀斑...）
提起Jo对一个美满的家庭的渴望，拍摄者自然让Jo来讲述下早逝的母亲。
拍摄者问，琼，你母亲的逝世是你第一次目睹死亡吗？
琼说，不，因为我根本就没有看到我母亲离开这个世界。
这个让琼可能遗憾终生的决定是爸爸做出的，琼承认，她一直有点怕爸爸。
妈妈安妮非常喜欢阅读，弹得一手好听的吉他，脾气很好。琼一直挚爱并怀念着母亲。这就又播出了哈利波特系列电影最著名的、最感人的桥段－－一年级的哈利在厄里斯魔镜前看见自己的父母。
. 原来导演邀请琼来演莉莉，但琼拒绝了，她说，我在镜头前连一个简单的挥挥手都不会。但琼仍在HP2中的对角巷中饰演了一个与哈利擦肩而过的女巫^_^
回到了以前做礼拜的教堂，琼翻阅着以前的名单，突然看到一个名字赶紧遮住，说，这个名字我借用到HP里啦，给了一个坏角色，再诡异地笑了下。
琼还去了曾经居住地旁边的迪恩森林，这座森林在赫敏的急中生智中被全世界的HP FANS们认识。这是座和巫师的神秘足迹有着千丝万缕联系的神奇之地，以后这里更会因为哈利们的故事而被列入FANS们英伦朝圣之旅的必去之地。
2007年的1月琼在一家旅店完成了HP7的写作。（个人分析，Jo的石板刻字与妆化了解决了半瓶香槟酒事件是她完成手稿后的插曲，而拍摄到的则是她完成电子稿的时刻）注意了下，琼最后修改的是高锥克（这名字已经作古啦！不过我一下子想不起来格兰芬多他老人家叫啥了...）山谷事件之后赫敏和哈利看《邓不利多的生平与谎言》的段落。琼打字快真不是吹的！完成后，琼很激动，说，你不知道这是不是一堆垃圾，有的人会喜欢的...但有的人会恨它...
接下来就是貌似枯燥的校对云云的工作。一位bloomsbury的操着标准好听的妇人微笑着和询问出书事项的拍摄者一连说了N个no....
新书出版前3个星期HP5的电影首映，琼和尼尔参加了首映式，谋杀了毫不逊色于丹尼尔，抑或艾玛、小鲁的菲林。
琼说参加这样的活动，面对无数的闪光灯，总是有些不自然。
7/21 千呼万唤始出来，属于HP的一天！
琼坐在TAXI里，看到一路上都是等待新书首发会的孩子们... （看到这里好激动啊！！面面在电脑屏幕前...无线渴望，无限向往，无限希望成为那些快乐激动地蹦蹦跳的孩子中的一员！）
终于，凌晨到了。
世界各地的倒计时结束！一本本HP7到了我们手中！！
琼在那个为她的幸运读者举办的首发会上，开始朗读第一章...
尘埃落定，一切都好。
接下来，琼参加了关于HP主题公园建造的方案讨论；画出了Weasley和Luna的家谱，这些我们都知道了。
圣诞节，琼到了蒂凡尼的商店，挑选漂亮的手镯和皮鞋，好好给自己放了个假。
之后，琼探访了她的“故居”， （我推测是她那套曾经响着老鼠叫声的房子）这里早已被新主人布置得干净整洁，我们也许可以猜想琼和杰西卡母女俩呆在这里是多么一幅困窘的画面。十年有余，琼已早已不是当年那个过早失去母亲、被丈夫赶到葡萄牙大街、抱着杰西卡回来住在一幢老鼠泛滥的大楼给女儿买的玩具放不满一个鞋盒的琼了。琼从来未曾忘记那些艰辛的岁月，她对人们忘却贫穷的现象义愤填膺。这天她故地重游，想起母亲的过世、想起破碎的婚姻，泪水涟涟。她说，她害怕现在的一切都消失了。她没有想到，再一次来到这里，房子新主人的书架上竟摆着自己在这里完成的书。而在过去的岁月里，她又是多么恐惧失去杰西卡，她说，第二天醒来看到杰西卡还活着，她就很高兴。
琼没有停止她的写作， 她开始（或继续？）着别的儿童著作的创作。
但更多的时间不再被叫哈利的男孩占据，而为尼尔、杰西卡、戴维、麦肯琪拥有。我们祝福琼拥有更多美好的日子！
《JK罗琳 生命中的一年》观后感(四)：写作是一件让罗琳幸福的事
要不是生活给罗琳设置那么多的困难和挫折罗琳也不会有写作的题材和想象力。哈利波特虽然是一部魔法故事，但它讲述了生活，爱，恨，生和死着一系列人类一直探讨的问题。
罗琳从小就渴望幸福的家庭，一直未得到，长大后这种渴望一直存在，她的短暂婚姻给生活带来重创。我想若干年前的罗琳一定在平静的湖面前，在矮小的居所里痛哭过。那段日子一定非常难熬，所以当她再次回到过去的住所时，她无声哭泣着，这里给了她太多回忆和成长。她为写作而生，也从未想过这些后来带给她的名与利。一方面给了它舒适的生活，另一方面也扼杀了她创造的源泉。苦难里的作品通常深刻，也能更引起共鸣。
有一种人身居人群之中，异常孤独，身居写作之中，异常放松和快乐。似乎患有一点点的人群恐惧和噪音症，害怕在嘈杂的商场里，那里琳琅满目的商品在某种程度上是一种压迫感，当你得到他们的时候远远没有想象的那样幸福。反而跟喜欢的人在一起，吃糠喝稀也能产生快乐。罗琳说最想要的品质是courage, yeah, courage is the vital thing which can push u forward when u are frightened by the failure and give u energy to overcome the dilemma and make the best of u.什么时候我们都要相信自己是最棒的，只要相信，勤于思考，认真努力就可以完成心中的梦想。
这部纪录片里，我最喜欢的一幕就是罗琳朗读，她在揭开她新书之前的午夜为大家朗读，当做仪式。数万粉丝坐于台下，静静的，只有罗琳读书的声音。我喜欢这种感觉。
每个人都应该为内心的声音勇往直前。
J.K.Rowling在哈佛的演讲
resident Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.
The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but，the weeks of fear and nausea I have endured at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and convince myself that I am at the world’s largest Gryffindor reunion.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, the law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see？ If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step to self improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that have expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These may seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that would never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension. I know that the irony strikes with the force of a cartoon anvil, now.
o they hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.
I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all the subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
ow, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea then how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
o why do I talk about the benefits of failure？ Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.
o given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
ow you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working at the African research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.
There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to speak against their governments. Visitors to our offices included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had left behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just had to give him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.
And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s places.
Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.
And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.
What is more, those who choose not to empathise enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.
That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.
ut how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives？ Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.
If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
o today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.