肖临骏观影：《摩纳哥王妃》，童话的表象与意志
“童话”这个词虽然在词义上明确指向孩童，但实际上成年人对虚构传奇的热衷一点都不输给尚未建立现实与故事分界线的孩子们，男人有“今朝把示君，可有不平事”的武侠梦，女人自懂事那天起就等着有人为她们念“人生自是有情痴，此恨不关风与月”。稍稍沾边的故事就立即能勾起人们代入感——当英雄迟暮、红颜已老，屏幕前的男男女女们也在一刹那见走过半生。
如果这梦再有点现实做基石，很难不被疯狂渲染入神话之境。
好莱坞黄金时代就是这样一个造梦所在，当时一批批绅士、浪子、娇娃、淑女通过银幕翩翩降临，让脚上靴子犹沾泥点的芸芸众生捏着戏票一边跌足慨叹一边艳羡不已。其中格蕾丝凯莉更是佼佼者——富豪大亨之女、年轻的奥斯卡影后、美丽的摩纳哥王妃，让踮着脚拼命仰望的寻常人觉得人生美满至此除了整日拈花微笑外简直无事可做。
时代创造一个童话兴许是容易的，可凡人隔着一个时代去解构诠释一个童话却需要智慧、公允和慈悲心。尤其是替这样背影犹在观众目前的人物作传，是讨巧却不讨好的事，我们熟知她的童话人生和美到无瑕疵的脸庞，熟到数以十万计的影迷至今对她每一套礼服都能如数家珍，怎样的挖掘和描摹才能跃过那些传说和影像去挖掘塑造一个众人不知却想知的别有天地呢？
好在影片一开头就用那句“我的人生之所以被描绘为童话,是因为它确是童话”坦白的表明自己毫无窥觊童话深处的野心，它借着摩纳哥风光和欧洲宫廷的华丽与古板将热衷怀旧又念念不忘童话的现代人带去旧时代故地重游。
电影借19xx年一场法国与摩纳哥的外交风波做主线，将故事交由两条矛盾交织推进——摩纳哥的国难、嫁入王室的影后自由意识与王室桎梏之间的冲撞。
蓝天碧海的海滨风光和华丽宫廷的陈设这几年里已经被各类不吝惜成本的影视剧轰炸到视觉疲劳，连深海和外太空都见惯了的观众很难再对镜头里的蜜色的阳光、如碧海浪、高高穹顶、霓裳羽衣大惊小怪。
导演拍着风景、忙着致敬，我们在等着有一双蔚蓝眼睛和如丝金发的王妃闹出点事儿来，她身着华服却被古板严肃的侍女监视着，连和一双儿女玩耍也要致歉：“别生气，马奇。”老朋友大导演希区柯克见她前要被教导“你可以直接称她为殿下?你不需要弯腰，她不是英国女王”，她落寞的道出不常见丈夫，又因为直率和平民出身被攻击和指责??
其实就这样演下去的话，再来个爱消融误解的结局，大约也差不离是个翻版《茜茜公主》，这类故事熟门熟路重来一遭虽无创新却未必会遭致恶评。毕竟看过戴安娜故事的现代人都对王子公主封号下藏着的风刀霜剑掬一把同情泪。
于是当女主角忧伤的说“我也好久没见到雷尼尔”时，我们还是已经预备站到她崩溃的路口等着拍拍她的肩，说一句：宫廷呢，就是这样的，请看开些。
可主创们偏偏在这时犯了糊涂，竭力从原本只负责完美的童话里挣扎出一些励志意义，让主
角在放弃与任性的情绪中突然被开悟，咂摸出自我意志与承担责任之间的公式，自此后穿着美丽的套装和礼服竭力演出优雅与崩溃、矛盾和坚韧、犹疑与承担，比她那位鲜少笑容的丈夫还尽责，又让戴高乐彻底成为文明的暴徒。
影片用一场女主角在慈善派对上充满人文关怀和普世价值的讲话将国际利益矛盾圆满解决——当她盘着金发噙着泪说着“至少这不是我接受的教育”时，欧洲政要名流们纷纷忘了税收、资源和已经崩坏的旧欧洲体系，有人甚至扭过头来问法兰西英雄戴高乐：你不会真的朝这个女人投炸弹吧？
孩子对童话信得认真，他们相信小红帽能战胜大灰狼，相信只需一吻睡美人就会苏醒，可成年人却一边为仗剑江湖英雄们慷慨高歌一边在微博上刷着“我的前任是极品”的段子。
第二篇：摩纳哥王妃 影评
The offscreen palace intrigue between “Grace of Monaco” director Olivier Dahan and his on-again off-again U.S. distributor Harvey Weinstein turns out to be far livelier than anything on screen in Dahan’s cardboard and frequently cornball melodrama about Grace Kelly’s bumpy transition from Hollywood to actual princess — and her (seemingly single-handed) saving of her embattled sovereign state from French annexation. Handsomely produced but as dramatically inert as star Nicole Kidman’s frigid cheek muscles, Dahan’s strained bid to recapture the critical and commercial success of his smash Edith Piaf biopic “La Vie en rose” is the sort of misbegotten venture no amount of clever re-editing could hope to improve. The decision to release the pic in France and other key Euro territories immediately following its opening-night Cannes berth reps a healthy gamble on Kidman’s drawing power against the summer blockbuster deluge.
Although Dahan and screenwriter Arash Amel open “Grace” with a quote by Kelly herself stating that “the idea of my life as a fairy tale is itself a fairy tale,” the movie that follows very much tries to have things both ways, with a script that feels cobbled together equally from “Cinderella,” “My Fair Lady” and “The King’s Speech,” culminating in — what else? — a lavish ball. In between, “Grace” offers a vision of the Philadelphia-born Oscar winner as not exactly an ugly duckling, but certainly a gauche American unschooled in the manners and mores of the European aristocracy, and very much an outsider in her own sovereign state, where she arrived in 1956 after marrying the Monegasque prince Rainier III (played here by Tim Roth).
When Dahan’s film picks up, in December 1961, it’s clear that, for Kelly, the royal life hasn’t turned out to be all she imagined. Then a lifeline to the outside world arrives in the form of her erstwhile “Rear Window” and “To Catch a Thief” director, Alfred Hitchcock (Roger Ashton Griffiths, the first in a parade of ghoulishly overacted celebrity caricatures that also include Paz Vega as Maria Callas and Robert Lindsay as Aristotle Onassis). Hitch has come to offer her the role of the psychologically scarred kleptomaniac in “Marnie,” and much of “Grace of Monaco’s” first half concerns itself with Kelly’s desire to return to Hollywood, despite the open misgivings of her husband and the (not altogether inaccurate) intimations of the tabloid press that her marriage must be on the brink.
As it happens, something else is on the brink, too. Mired in the costly Algerian War and alarmed at the number of national business pulling up stakes and relocating to tax-free Monaco, French president Charles de Gaulle (Andre Penvern) delivers Rainier an ultimatum: Implement an income tax and pay the proceeds to France (upon whose imports the tiny nation depends for its survival) or else risk military action. Actually, what de Gaulle says, in a splendid example of the movie’s overripe dialogue, is “You agree to my terms or I’ll send Monaco back to the Dark Ages!” Yet, for all of the movie’s efforts to turn this long-forgotten turf war into a veritable Cote d’Azur Missile Crisis, it never registers as more than a trumped-up teacup tempest — one whose worst possible outcome is that a few thousand tax-dodging bourgeoises might be forced to become French citizens.
It’s enough, though, to send Grace into a positive tizzy. Fearing that heading to Hollywood might be viewed as a total abandonment of her sovereign duties, she seeks
counsel from a sage expat American parish priest (Frank Langella, in Jiminy Cricket mode), who tells the conflicted actress that playing Princess Grace is in fact “the greatest role of your career” — an obvious sentiment that Dahan’s movie nonetheless turns into a kind of rhetorical mantra. And so Kelly resolves to double-down on princess duty, with some help from a kind of fairy godfather “protocol expert” (Derek Jacobi, slumming in style) who instructs her in the dos and don’ts of regal style. Can Grace’s imminent Red Cross charity ball prove the weapon of mass diplomacy even Rainier lacks in his arsenal? Just you wait, Charles de Gaulle! Just you wait!
If Princess Grace was the great role of Kelly’s career, the same can’t be said for Kidman, who would seem to be perfectly cast as the carefully vetted wife trapped in a loveless A-list marriage. But the actress never appears to fully connect with the character, delivering a series of doleful little-girl-lost poses — and, later, pantomimed iron-jawed determination — while decked out by Dahan and costume designer Gigi Lepage in a parade of suitably eye-popping wide-brimmed hats, gold-lame gowns and shimmering Cartier diamonds. So one comes away with a very good sense of how Grace Kelly looked, but precious little sense of how she felt, about her husband, her children (barely glimpsed here) or her adopted homeland.
Amel’s script is agonizingly airless and contrived, especially when it tries to shoehorn in a conspiratorial subplot involving Rainier’s sister Princess Antoinette (Geraldine Somerville) and a possibly duplicitous lady-in-waiting (Parker Posey, as tightly clenched as Mrs. Danvers herself). As in “La Vie en rose,” Dahan keeps things very busy on the visual front, even making sure to have literal fireworks erupting in the background of one marital argument, when one would have thought the emotional fireworks would have sufficed. “At some point, every fairy tale must end,” espouses the ever-wise Langella — only, in the case of “Grace of Monaco,” not nearly soon enough