《分离批判》影评精选
《分离批判》是一部由居伊·德波执导，居伊·德波 / Caroline Rittener主演的一部短片类型的电影，特精心从网络上整理的一些观众的影评，希望对大家能有帮助。
●The wineof life is drawn，and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of．
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●三星半
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●你以為自己很清醒，因為你尚未看到你在夢境的催眠中。被既定世界（文化景象）分離出一個不敢冒險的的個體；冒險（反抗既定世界）也罷， 不冒險也罷，回來後還是一個虛焦的醉酒模糊。
《分离批判》影评(一)：此处我思考与郁闷 彼处他们幸福或者死亡
战争为什么如此重要，如果你遇到你便知道。对于生于安逸的年轻人。
法国巴黎的咖啡厅充满忧郁，他们需要做什么，去模仿战争中的斗士？
黑人们玩着把人杀死，欧洲人看呆了，他们无法干预，那只能思考。
《分离批判》影评(二)：评
Debord 批判分离，是什么分离了我们，我们又是如何被分离的。影片以一张女性的侧坐照片开始。她是谁，这张照片来自哪里？是杂志上的，还是一张私人照片，抑或是一张广告照片。我们无从知道，也许这就是这部影片的大的基调。
居伊·德波（Guy Debord），情境主义代表人物，著有《景观社会》。《分离批判》是他在“纪录片”上的一次实验。德波提取的素材包括一系列新闻短片的镜头、书的封面、翻拍的照片、巴黎及周边的风景、以及一系列似乎是即兴的、他和他的朋友在由多孔介质构成的咖啡店和街道的镜头。 在《分离批判》中，德波首次有策略地利用字幕来干扰观者接受画面，甚至接受他的批判旁白。他还带着讽刺的情绪扩展了幕间标题的作用（如“有史以来最伟大的反电影之一！”）。这里的焦点是“情境”概念的明确发展以及它在影片中的再现时引起的复杂问题。但他同样明确了他的兴趣主要不在批判电影，而是批判使用电影的典型机制之现状。影片18分钟，旁白自己翻译自英文版。
英文旁白 http://www.cddc.vt.edu/sionline/si/separation.html
度盘当漏 1dDzq36L
我们不知该说些什么。在我们之外，词的序列重复出现，手势亦获得公认。我们当然掌握了一些方法，也验证了一些结果（通常都让人发笑）。但太多我们欲求的事物都还未得到，或者只得到不完整的部分，异于我们的设想。怎样的交流是我们向往过、经验过、或仅仅是模仿过的？怎样的真实映射丢失了？
电影奇观自有一套规则，一套制造满意产品的可靠方式，但作为出发点的现实却是不满。电影——无论剧情片或纪录片——的功能是展示一种错误且孤立的融贯性，以替代缺失的交流与活动。要使纪录片去神秘化，就必须消解其主题素材。
一个固定规则是：电影中任何没有用图像来说明的语句都必须重复出现，不然就会被观众遗漏。或许如此吧。但同样的交际失误却不断出现在日常接触中。有些事本应详尽说明，却没有足够时间，你也不能确定自己是否说清楚了。还没等你说出必须说的话，做完必须做的事，人已经走了。穿过街道。越过海洋。修正已太迟了。
除却所有空洞的时光和丢失的瞬间，剩下的只有无尽交错的明信片式风光，以及我们所有人之间都有的距离。童年？当然了，它就在这里——我们从未走出。
我们的时代累积了权力，并认为自身是合理的。但没人承认这种权力属于他们自己。没有一个入口通往成年。唯一的结果是这种长期的不安最终变为程序化的睡眠。因为没人想失去保护。重点不是承认一部分人的生活比另一部分人劣等，而是我们的生活其实都不受自己掌控。
同时这个世界还教导我们事物如何改变。没有什么会永远不变。世界每天都更快速地变化着，而且我确信那些日复一日让世界与自己相悖的人，也能将世界据为己有。
我们所说的唯一的冒险就是与整体斗争，其中心便是这样一种生活方式：即我们可以试探自己的力量，却根本用不着使用。没有什么冒险是直接为我们而创造的。呈现在我们面前的冒险，一部分形成了通过电影或其他方式表述的大量传说，一部分形成了历史中壮观的假象。
只要环境还是由集体决定，就不会有真正的个体，有的只是幽灵萦绕着他人胡乱摆在他们面前的事物。偶尔有些时候我们随机遇见互不相关的人。他们的情绪分歧相互中和，使他们稳固的无聊越发牢靠。只要我们无法创造我们自己的历史，无法自由设计自己的境遇，我们为统一所做的努力就只会引起别的分离。探求统一的活动只会导致形成新的特殊。
只有极少的接触像是一种更深刻的生活所释放的信号，那种生活我们还不曾真正发现。
不能忘记的那些事物会在梦中重现。这种梦境的最后，在半睡半醒之间，依然有那么短暂的片刻被当做现实。接着那些由此引起的反应变得更加清晰可辨，也更加合理，就像许多个清晨你关于前一天晚上醉酒之前的记忆。再接下去你意识到这是假的，只是梦而已，新的现实只是幻觉，无法重来。你什么也抓不住。这些梦境是未消解的过去的闪光，照亮曾经活在混乱与疑惑中的时刻。它们直截了当地揭露了我们未被满足的需求。白天，这些观点不再有任何意义。
一个城市的各部分某种程度上来说是可解码的，但它们对于我们个人的意义无法传达，就像所有的私人生活中的秘密，即除了可怜的证件以外我们一无所有。
这里没有官方新闻，社会向自己播送它自己历史的影像。这种历史已变成了统治者表面的、静止的盛会，他们代表了已发生的事物外在的宿命。统治者的世界即景观的世界，电影与之太相衬了。 不考虑主题素材的话，电影呈现的是英雄和可模仿的行为其实都是以和统治者相同的老套模式为原型。
每次有谁想尝试活得不一样的时候，这种占支配地位的平衡又回到问题中。但它总是离我们很远。我们通过报纸和新闻广播了解它，我们在它之外，把它理解为仅仅是另一种景观。因为我们自己不去介入，我们得以与之分离。但最终我们会对自己非常失望。选择是什么时候推迟了？我们是什么时候错过了我们的机会？我们还没找到我们需要的武器。我们没有好好把握。
我已经听任时间溜走了。我失去了应该守卫的东西。
这个分离批评明显包含了一些隐瞒的特殊记忆。一种少有察觉的痛，一种更难说明的羞耻感。这种分离是什么？过得真快啊！我们又回到这个混乱的故事中来了。
与失去相关的一切——即是说，我所失去的过去的时间，失踪，逃离，以及更普遍的事物的消逝，甚至在使用时间方面最流行也最通俗的社会意识里的东西，都叫做被浪费的时间——所有这些都能在那个恰当得令人惊奇的旧军事用语“敢死队”中找到与如下事物的交集：发现，对未知地带的探索，以及一切形式的探索、调查、冒险、前卫。就是在这个路口我们找到了自己，又迷了路。
必须承认，没有什么特别清楚的。这完全就是典型的酒后独白：带着费解的暗示和讨厌的演说，以及不等待回应的自负措辞和傲慢解释，还有沉默。
贫乏的方法是为了显示这个主题素材贫乏到了丢脸的地步。
那些发生在我们个体存在中——我们非常在乎还必须参与——的事件，现在经过整理，通常顶多只能得到我们的漠然反应，像个远远的无聊看客一般。相反，艺术作品中呈现的情境通常却很吸引人，能得到我们的积极参与。这个悖论应该被反转，重新正常运作。在实践中应该认识到这点。 由过滤的碎片化过去组成的愚蠢景观充满了喧哗与骚动，因此现在的问题不是改变它或让它适应另一个安排好的景观，遵循安排好的理解方式和参与方式。不。有条理的艺术表达表述的不外乎是过去的融贯性，不外乎是被动。
必须要摧毁艺术中的记忆，破坏其传播的惯例，让爱好者们扫兴。这可真难！在醉酒般的模糊视野里，电影中的记忆和语言也同时消失。极端情况下，贫乏的主观性反转为某种客观性：一个关于非交流的情形的记录。
比如说，我不谈论她。虚假的容貌。虚假的故事。 一个真实的人和那个人的表演者是分离的，通过事件和它的诱因之间流逝的时间，通过一段不断增加的距离（包括这一刻也在增加）。就像一个保守的表达，和那些只有抽象听说而对它没有任何权力的人是分离的。
景观整体上来说不外乎就是这个时代，某个年轻人在这个时代认可了这种景观。景观是图像与其带来的影响之间的割裂，是过去塑造了这个年轻人的特质的视野、品味、取舍和计划与景观进入平常生活的方式之间的割裂。
我们没有发明任何事物。通过一点点的改变，我们让自己适应了可能的路线。我们习惯了，似乎是吧。
没有人冒险归来还会带着他们出发时的狂热。美丽的同伴，冒险已死。
谁想要抵抗？必须要超越这种部分的失败。当然了。那要怎么做呢？
这部电影到这里就自己中断了，不会有结局。
所有结论都有待总结，一切都必须重新计算。
这个问题接着被置于不断复杂化的术语中。我们必须采取其他的办法。
正是因为这条缺乏条理的信息的开始并没有什么深刻的原因，所以也无从总结。
我已经勉强开始让你明白，我不想玩这场游戏。
《分离批判》影评(四)：Critique of Separation (film soundtrack)
Critique of Separation
(film soundtrack)
We don‘t know what to say. Sequences of words are repeated; gestures are recognized. Outside us. Of course some methods are mastered, some results are verified. Often it’s amusing. But so many things we wanted have not been attained, or only partially and not like we imagined. What communication have we desired, or experienced, or only simulated？ What real project has been lost？
The cinematic spectacle has its rules, its reliable methods for producing satisfactory products. But the reality that must be taken as a point of departure is dissatisfaction. The function of the cinema, whether dramatic or documentary, is to present a false and isolated coherence as a substitute for a communication and activity that are absent. To demystify documentary cinema it is necessary to dissolve its subject matter.
A well-established rule is that any statement in a film that is not illustrated by images must be repeated or else the spectators will miss it. That may be true. But this same type of miscommunication constantly occurs in everyday encounters. Something must be specified but there‘s not enough time, and you are not sure you have been understood. Before you have said or done what was necessary, the other person has already gone. Across the street. Overseas. Too late for any rectification.
After all the empty time, all the lost moments, there remain these endlessly traversed postcard landscapes; this distance organized between each and everyone. Childhood？ Why, it’s right here we have never emerged from it.
Our era accumulates powers and imagines itself as rational. But no one recognizes these powers as their own. Nowhere is there any entry to adulthood. The only thing that happens is that this long restlessness sometimes eventually evolves into a routinized sleep. Because no one ceases to be kept under guardianship. The point is not to recognize that some people live more or less poorly than others, but that we all live in ways that are out of our control.
At the same time, it is a world that has taught us how things change. Nothing stays the same. The world changes more rapidly every day; and I have no doubt that those who day after day produce it against themselves can appropriate it for themselves.
The only adventure, we said, is to contest the totality, whose center is this way of living, where we can test our strength but never use it. No adventure is directly created for us. The adventures that are presented to us form part of the mass of legends transmitted by the cinema or in other ways; part of the whole spectacular sham of history.
Until the environment is collectively dominated, there will be no real individuals only specters haunting the objects anarchically presented to them by others. In chance situations we meet separated people moving randomly. Their divergent emotions neutralize each other and reinforce their solid environment of boredom. As long as we are unable to make our own history, to freely create situations, our striving toward unity will give rise to other separations. The quest for a unified activity leads to the formation of new specializations.
And only a few encounters were like signals emanating from a more intense life, a life that has not really been found.
What cannot be forgotten reappears in dreams. At the end of this type of dream, half asleep, the events are still for a brief moment taken as real. Then the reactions they give rise to become clearer, more distinct, more reasonable; like on so many mornings the memory of what you drank the night before. Then comes the awareness that it‘s all false, that it was only a dream,� that the new realities were illusory and you can’t get back into them. Nothing you can hold on to. These dreams are flashes from the unresolved past, flashes that illuminate moments previously lived in confusion and doubt. They provide a blunt revelation of our unfulfilled needs.
Here we see daylight, and perspectives that now no longer have any meaning. The sectors of a city are to some extent decipherable. But the personal meaning they have had for us is incommunicable, as is the secrecy of private life in general, regarding which we possess nothing but pitiful documents.
Official news is elsewhere. Society broadcasts to itself its own image of its own history, a history reduced to a superficial and static pageant of its rulers � the persons who embody the apparent inevitability of whatever happens. The world of the rulers is the world of the spectacle. The cinema suits them well. Regardless of its subject matter, the cinema presents heroes and exemplary conduct modeled on the same old pattern as the rulers.
This dominant equilibrium is brought back into question each time unknown people try to live differently. But it was always far away. We learn of it through the papers and newscasts. We remain outside it, relating to it as just another spectacle. We are separated from it by our own nonintervention. And end up being rather disappointed in ourselves. At what moment was choice postponed？ When did we miss our chance？ We haven’t found the arms we needed. We‘re let things slip away.
I have let time slip away. I have lost what I should have defended.
This general critique of separation obviously contains, and conceals, some particular memories. A less recognized pain, a less explicable feeling of shame. Just what separation was it？ How quickly we have lived! It is to this point in our haphazard story that we now return.
Everything involving the sphere of loss � that is, what I have lost of myself, the time that has gone; and disappearance, flight; and the general evanescence of things, and even what in the prevalent and therefore most vulgar social sense of time is called wasted time � all this finds in that strangely apt old military term, lost children, its intersection with the sphere of discovery, of the exploration of unknown terrains, and with all the forms of quest, adventure, avant-garde. This is the crossroads where we have found ourselves and lost our way.
It must be admitted that none of this is very clear. It is a completely typical drunken monologue, with its incomprehensible allusions and tiresome delivery. With its vain phrases that do not await response and its overbearing explanations. And its silences.
The poverty of means is intended to reveal the scandalous poverty of the subject matter.
The events that occur in our individual existence as it is now organized, the events that really concern us and require our participation, generally merit nothing more than our indifference as distant and bored spectators. In contrast, the situations presented in artistic works are often attractive, situations that would merit our active participation. This is a paradox to reverse, to put back on its feet. This is what must be realized in practice. As for this idiotic spectacle of the filtered and fragmented past, full of sound and fury, it is not a question now of transforming or adapting it into another neatly ordered spectacle that would play the game of neatly ordered comprehension and participation. No. A coherent artistic expression expresses nothing but the coherence of the past, nothing but passivity.
It is necessary to destroy memory in art. To undermine the conventions of its communication. To demoralize its fans. What a task! As in a blurry drunken vision, the memory and language of the film fade out simultaneously. At the extreme, miserable subjectivity is reversed into a certain sort of objectivity: a documentation of the conditions of noncommunication.
For example, I don‘t talk about her. False face. False relation. A real person is separated from the interpreter of that person, if only by the time passed between the event and its evocation, by a distance that continually increases, a distance that is increasing at this very moment. Just as a conserved expression remains separate from those who hear it abstractly and without any power over it.
The spectacle as a whole is nothing other than this era, an era in which a certain youth has recognized itself. It is the gap between that image and its consequences; the gap between the visions, tastes, refusals and projects that previously characterized this youth and the way it has advanced into ordinary life.
We have invented nothing. We adapt ourselves, with a few variations, into the network of possible itineraries. We get used to it, it seems.
o one returns from an enterprise with the ardor they had upon setting out. Fair companions, adventure is dead.
Who will resist？ It is necessary to go beyond this partial defeat. Of course. And how to do it？
This is a film that interrupts itself and does not come to an end.
All conclusions remain to be drawn; everything has to be recalculated.
The problem continues to be posed in continually more complicated terms. We have to resort to other measures.
Just as there was no profound reason to begin this formless message, so there is none for concluding it.
I have scarcely begun to make you understand that I don’t intend to play the game.