《罪与罚》经典观后感1000字
《罪与罚》是一部由阿基·考里斯马基执导，Markku Toikka / Aino Seppo / Esko Nikkari主演的一部犯罪 / 剧情类型的电影，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。
影片音乐设定不错，开头的砧板上的虫子，水管喷射时候的明亮的雨雾和冲血很有点虎头的味道。然而，我很敏感于人，人到底有没有具备与气氛相匹配的文化这是非常关键的一点。在屠宰场，我就感到人是装上去的。到后来，这种失望完全淹没了我，没看到一半就看不下去了。拉着看看到的还是装bi的表情，装bi的话语。导演师从不少人，但看来没有学到电影最关键的一点是塑造真实感。只有让观众进入了那种真实，里面的一举一动才会有动人的魅力。这点上，大郭立斯马基感觉就好得多，僵尸与魔鬼列车，首先给人的是诚挚，因为导演的诚挚，所以影片进入真实。装bi的导演选装bi的演员，目的是为了表现自己，为了愚弄观众。我很看不起这种无法控制虚荣冲动和肤浅权力欲的人。
《罪与罚》观后感(二)：摘抄
“如果他有良知，就让他痛苦，交代自己的罪行。如果他同情受害者，就让他痛苦吧，这就是对他的惩罚。”借海克曼的嘴，考里斯马基说出了自己对“罪与罚”的一种理解。 “被我杀的那个人无足轻重，我杀了只虱子，我自己也成了虱子。虱子的数量永远不会改变，除非我一开始就是一只虱子。不过这不重要，我想推翻某种准则，而不是某个人。杀人也许是一种错误，但现在每个人都很满足。包括我，隔离对我毫无意义。你知道为什么吗？因为我总是独自一人。这就是我不想让你等我的原因。去吧，去过你自己的生活。有一天我们都会死的，我们死后，不会有天堂，只会有别的东西。什么呢？蜘蛛，或者别的，我怎么知道。”海克曼在影片最后的自白确实让我想起拉斯柯尔尼科夫在谵妄时的癫狂表述，关于全体人类中少数“超人”应当引领广大“凡人”的观点。考侧重点只是落在人之罪与罚上，而陀至少还谈到了人之价值，作为陀的读者，考对《罪与罚》的思考还是太单一了。
《罪与罚》观后感(三)：阿基不善讲故事
据说是改编自陀斯特洛夫斯基的名著，原书没看过，看过电影后，更没有看原著的兴趣。
男主为了给车祸去世的未婚妻报仇，谋杀了财主。女主作为目击者，复杂的心理作用下，爱上了男主。男主设计了一连串的脱罪证明，有机会逃走，最后以“我是个孤独的人，监狱对我的隔绝毫无意义，因为到哪里我都是孤独”为由，自投罗网。
本片的故事性加强了，凶杀，设计证据，三角爱情，悬疑都有了，终于看到了阿基故事性比较强的电影。不过同其它几部电影相比，这部确实差一点。或许是没看过原著的原因吧。
有几点不理解:
1.男主预留的带血的手帕，是准备做啥用的呢？
2.男主向警察告密，铁皮柜里有犯罪证据，栽赃流浪汉，很明显，告密者是最知道实情的，凶手抢钱后早把钱花掉，其它物品隐藏起来，等事情了结再去取，这栽赃设计未免也太低级了。如果在现场预留线索，让警察自己找到铁皮柜，还能说得过去。
3.警察严重怀疑男主，为啥女主的老板都搞窃听了，警察就等着吗，警长说过“你的罪恶感会折磨你，最终会把你送到警局来”。呵呵，高明的手段。
阿基是营造氛围状态的高手，讲故事，还真没啥出彩的。片子几人的心理状态我理解，就够了，没有再看一遍的必要。
《罪与罚》观后感(四)：你是那只虱子吗，如果是，你安全了
影片看似在讲一个个人复仇的犯罪故事，还加上了朦朦胧胧的爱恨情仇。
其实，在我的眼中影片是在讲游戏的规则，关于人生和社会的游戏规则。
是做固守原有游戏规则的虱子，还是说不，企图创立一套新的规则？
而这个还不算难，难的就是你虽然生而为人，却天生不是虱子，这就难了！
是把自己伪装成一个虱子，违心的遵守游戏的规则去生活，还是坦坦荡荡的承认自己真的不是一只虱子，要坚持自己创建的规则，哪怕等待自己的是死胡同或者死亡？
如果你不是一个虱子，在人海茫茫的地球上，你注定要孤独的，无论你违心的生活，还是勇敢面对生活现实，做真实的自己。
因而在影片结尾，女主角说要等待男主角8年的时候，男主角拒绝了。
因为男主角不是虱子，这决定了他以前孤独，现在关起来孤独，以后放出去仍然会孤独的。而这种孤独，注定会完全成为虱子的女主角是无法为他分担的。
有一首歌里唱到“孤独的人是可耻的”，我不知道这句话如何理解，也许虱子们认为，长的人模人样，又不按虱子的方式出牌是可耻的？
这部影片，让我想到了小说《蝇王》，蝇王和虱子王，其实只是外形的差异吧，其实，都是一样的生存方式吧。
难道说，人的本性就是虱子吗？不是虱子的人，无论你如何伪装，你注定是要毁灭的，只是时间早晚的问题罢了。所以，鲁迅在死亡之前，坚持一个也不饶恕，因为，无论伪装与否，他都不算一个合格的虱子。
所以，如果你生来就是个虱子，你一定生活的很好，很少痛苦，你一心一意的按游戏规则办事，精准度不亚于克隆技术，无知无觉的如呼吸空气一样自然。你是楷模，你是标杆。你是生存的模板。
问题是，你是那只虱子吗？如果是，你安全了……
《罪与罚》观后感(五)：zz——An impressive first feature from an incredibly talented filmmaker
This was the first film from idiosyncratic filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki, and already some of his more recognisable themes and preoccupations are being developed in preparation for the more iconic films still to come. I wouldn't go so far as to call this particular adaptation of Dostoevsky's landmark work a classic - as there are obviously a few rough edges and an overall feel of the generic European sensibilities familiar from television drama occasionally getting in the way of Kaurismäki's typically broad, deadpan approach to moments of drama and emotion - but I'd still recommend it as a worthy experience, especially to anyone familiar with Kaurismäki later work, as a chance to see how his unique and entirely personal style has developed and evolved.
In a particularly impressive stroke of direction, the film opens with a close-up shot of fly crawling across a blood-splattered plinth in some anonymous Helsinki slaughter house. A cleaver comes down and cuts the fly in two. Immediately, ominous music begins to play and we are subjected to an onslaught of emotionless, repetitive slaughter; as drab, impassive young men in overalls clean meat from bone, saw through sinew and hose down the pools of blood collected under a procession of strung-up pig carcasses. With this kind of introduction we see Kaurismäki setting up the images of cold-hearted murder and stark, unglamorous brutality that will follow on into the subsequent scene. It also works as a skillful introduction to our central character Rahikainen; a former lawyer turned butcher, still haunted by the loss of his fiancé some several years before. There's also a stark sense of humour being developed here too; with the juxtaposition of over-emotive, melodramatic music with the completely disengaging, repetitive use of action and design - and the robotic, soulless way in which it is carried out - all setting up the broader ironies of murder so central to Dostoevsky's original tome.
As with the book, Kaurismäki's interpretation of Crime and Punishment looks at the attempt made by the central character to "kill a principle", as well as the conflicting notions of righteousness and guilt. In this respect, the film calls to mind director Krzysztof Kieślowski's A Short Film About Killing (1988), which not only shares the same thematic preoccupations of the desire for murder and the psychological and spiritual complications that it can conjure up, but also a certain cold, peculiar approach to the direction, structure and actual mise-en-scene. This is obvious right from the start, with the scene in the slaughterhouse setting up the continual atmosphere and broader elements of interpretation found throughout. This means that by the time we finally see Rahikainen go to the office of a seemingly random, middle-aged business man and shoot him dead, the lack of emotion and cold robotic calculation present in his body language and personality is like an echo of the scene in which he killed the fly or carefully broke the ribcage from a slab of raw beef.
While Rahikainen sits in silent contemplation - thinking about his actions as his victim lies dead on the floor - a young woman enters the room and triggers a chain of events that will force the character to think more carefully about why he chose to commit such a crime, as well as casting elements of doubt on his notion of murder as being - once again - about the killing of a principal rather than a man. Obviously, there are much deeper shades of drama presented here, with the subtle notions of loss, loneliness, listless desperation, the desire to escape (not only from your circumstances but also from yourself) and the central, titular ruminations on crime and punishment and what they mean to the individual. These ideas are given further weight by the truly grand performances, with Markku Toikka creating a completely believable character whose true beliefs, feelings and intent remain vague and enigmatic, while Aino Seppo as the girl presents the more hopeful, tender aspect of the drab, grey and claustrophobic world that the character inhabits. There is also fine support from Kaurismäki regulars Esko Nikkari, Olli Tuominen and Matti Pellonpää, who here plays an early incarnation of a character he would develop further in the subsequent Shadows in Paradise (1986).
Though the cool irony and wry humour of Kaurismäki's later films is perhaps less formed than it would eventually become, there are still traces of it beginning to take shape. Regardless, this is still a fascinating insight into Kaurismäki's creative mind, his vision, and his sense of sardonic ambition in even attempting such an adaptation for his first feature film. It is perhaps worth watching first, before you see any of his subsequent films, and then returning to once again after having seen the extraordinary developments he made through films like Calamari Union (1985), Shadows in Paradise, Hamlet Goes Business (1987), Ariel (1988) and Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989). Regardless, this is an impressive first film from an incredibly talented filmmaker.