剑桥风云

影片本身很棒，不过与史实或许有些差异。
我认为他们早年出于无知和冲动，投身间谍工作，但他们都是聪明人，在获得了大量政治情报之后，他们不难得出客观的结论。但是已经骑虎难下了。
英国人对待历史的态度还是比较客观的，片子并没有把他们拍成十恶不赦的卖国贼，而是把他们描绘成一群忠于朋友的人。聪明理性，充满感情。很难想象我们能拍出这样的片子。
另外，字幕的翻译有些问题，还好大多能看懂。

“许多人可能会说，自杀可能是"光荣的"出路……但我认为，恰恰相反，那是一种懦弱的解决方式。”
------ Blunt回忆录

在1930年代中期
对于我和当时的很多人来说
共产主义俄国是
反对法西斯主义的唯一堡垒
在那时
西方国家对德国采取了暧昧的
妥协的立场
我被Guy说服
为了反对法西斯主义
我加入了他的苏联间谍组织
这是一个出于良知的决定
反对的是纳粹
我选择了良心
------ Blunt回忆录



--------------------------------华丽丽的分割线-------------------------------

 

英语底子好的同学可以看这个


 

The True Memoirs of Anthony Blunt
 

Summary:
A year after Guy's death, Anthony remembers his friend - and their folly - as best he can.


 

Notes:
Inspired by slowascent's Yuletide Letter and her love of the seven deadly sins, especially the sin of pride.

 

 

 

Work Text:
August 30th, 1964

Guy went mad a bit, after Julian died. Perhaps I should have seen it then. It was the sort of madness that was too easy to dismiss, and it might have been that I wanted to dismiss it. We four friends had spent many years making excuses for one another, but I had known Guy the longest and excused the most. Friends since the beginning, I suppose I found it harder than most to admit he might be going so terribly wrong. He'd always had his excesses, little foibles and quirks. It is how things begin, isn't it? With Guy it was always matter of degrees, each action seems less harsh in the light of what came before. I wanted to believe that he wasn't off the rails, that it was simply more of his usual. More fool myself, and that is something not easily admitted.

He'd always been a bit madcap, hadn't he? We were so different, he and I, for all that our lives and upbringings had been so similar. It was likely what drew us together, at least it was why I noticed him at Cambridge. When you moved in the same circles as Guy, it was hard not to notice him. Loud and flamboyant, the sort to speak his mind - no, not speak it, for the word speak implies some sort of decorum. Guy shouted it from rooftops and pulpits. Discretion was not his friend. Whereas things in my life were so careful and controlled, compartmentalised, Jackie said the same thing to me so many years later. That I had boxes and found it all too easy to simply shut something away. Shouldn't I have? My compartmentalisation kept us safe, so many times. When Guy went off on his tangents - even when we were both Apostles - I was the one that stood sure and true. I was the one that remained calm when so many simply reacted and acted. The mark of an English gentleman, that deep-rooted stoicism, wasn't it? I epitomised that very thing and always had. I couldn't be any other way. Even when Guy told others he was a friend of Stalin whilst drunk at parties, I would be the one smiling benignly at Guy's little joke. I was always able to pretend it was a joke, but guy never was. He always felt things so strongly. He threw himself into all of it, holding nothing of himself back. I warned him of the danger of it, but Guy was never the sort to listen to such advice.

Julian was the first warning, or he should have been. He'd almost gone to him, after that party we were at. Raining. It was already raining Julian had said, the crowd having gone quiet in that convenient way that it did. Inconvenient, actually, where Julian was concerned. That night Guy had been drunker than most nights. An accomplishment when one thinks about it seriously. He'd been so determined to leave the house, to find Julian. To explain to him privately that we hadn't changed. That we were working for Moscow and our rejection of socialism was part of the cover.

I stopped him. I was the one that wouldn't let him go. Perhaps I was the one that made it so hard for Guy when Julian died. Had I let him go that night... There's little time for regret in our lives, if any. I refuse to doubt my decisions then. At the time they were the right ones. Guy couldn't have let Julian know any more than we could have let anyone know. It was the point of it, wasn't it? Distancing ourselves from the movement in order to have more use.

It wasn't a friendship without troubles, even when we were at Cambridge. Guy was brilliant, and if I were utterly and brutally honest, I'd say he was smarter than I was. Yet he squandered it shamefully throwing away a brilliance in a way that always bothered me. There was so much he could have done. There was no doubt he'd have been that much more valuable an asset had he not drank and caroused so. It wasn't like anyone could have altered that. When we were still in school it was the norm, just a bit of boys being boys. Once we had graduated, well, there was never any stopping Guy, nor changing Guy.

I realise now I couldn't have. I never thought it at the time, I thought I had him under control. Yes, he said things no one should, especially one in our position. Guy would get drunk and say the most obscene things. Few ever paid them any mind. He was known as a bit of a drinker and if he declared himself a spy at a party, who would think his words the truth?

Should I have noticed it then? I told myself there was nothing to notice. Guy would be Guy, I excused it over and over, always taking note but doing little. I would say a word here and there, nothing more than suggestions or mild admonishments. They were laughed off. Why wouldn't they be laughed off? I never could have seriously admonished Guy and somehow he knew that.. Too many things we laughed off and brushed away. Pride is such a funny thing, isn't it? Not that I would have called my perceived control of Guy pride, I still have issues with referring to it as such. It seemed so reasonable then. We were friends, friends before anything else, before everything else. Shouldn't a man be capable of keeping an eye on his friends, be capable of keeping them in line? A better friend might have seen that it wasn't the simple thing I told myself it was/ Frankly, Guy was out of control long before I cared to admit it.

So many at school knew what we were, even if I'd never been as open as he was. I refer to the communism, that is, not the homosexuality -- though I am sure many knew that as well, such an ill-kept secret as it was in those days. There was no shame in being a communist, not as a student. Being an anti-fascist was a point of pride for many, and later in life it was seen as a sort of undergraduate rash. It was an ailment that one had the good sense to recover from. We were Apostles the, an informal fellowship of students who gathered for many reasons. Many of us homosexuals, all of us anti-fascists, that sort of movement was nearly expected when we were students. Just as it was expected we would move on from it after college to join the establishment. Only, we never did recover from it, we only seemed to. It was all part of the master plan. One couldn't be an effective spy if one was known to have socialist tendencies. It was logical, sensible, the most useful thing that we could have done: distance ourselves from our own pasts. But it hurt Guy deeply, having to pretend that he'd rejected Communism, especially to Julian.

I would swear it all changed when Julian died. I'd rather not use the word died, it sounds so innocuous, as if he were elderly and passed on in his sleep. Julian was killed, yet another death at the hands of those same fascists we all hated. There were times that it seemed Julian had the simpler and easier task. There was elegance in our roles – an excitement - that didn't exist in Julian's open devotion to the cause. I told myself that. We all did, I'm sure, that we were fighting the longer fight, the more important one. What would have changed for us if we could have done what he did? If we could have been open in our fight against the forces that tried to devour Europe?

He knew, you know. He knew that Julian and I had been together. I knew of his affection for Julian but it didn't stop me. Guy never saw how they would have been the end of each other, fanned flames burning too quickly. Their passion, however different and sometimes misguided, would have been the end of them both. That isn't to say there was anything noble about my affair with Julian. I was fond of him, yes, but never in love. Love was such a dangerous thing. As dangerous as happiness, moreso when they came together. The four of us - any spies really - couldn't afford such luxuries, not and perform our chosen task and be safe.

I should have seen it. I should have seen it after Julian's death but I wouldn't allow myself to. Pride, hubris, call it what you will. Perhaps even something so much simpler: the loyalty of four friends to one another. Beyond any cause or any devotion, those friends were the things that I had to keep safe and that I held to be most important. Do you know I believed it? I believed that I, Anthony Blunt, could keep us safe. I thought that I could protect each of us against the world. What an utter fool I was. There was nothing and no one that could protect us from ourselves, we were always our own worst enemies. Guy and Donald were both problems, but it was Guy that mattered most to me. Kim and Donald; Guy and myself. It was how things had always been and how they would always be.

I never knew if he was hurt by Jackie's defection, as it might have been called. Jackie wasn't as important to Guy as Julian had been. I always felt that he was more a distraction to Guy, something to keep him occupied when he couldn't be bothered venturing out to one of his less than reputable locales. Perhaps that alone should have warned me away. Once his distraction was gone - once his distraction was mine - he became ever the more on edge. I've said already how brilliant he was. Brilliant and mad -- no, lost is a better word then mad. Guy needed our cause, he needed to believe. Julian, to him, had been an ideal, the personification of a concept and a belief. Not only someone he loved, but his beacon in an otherwise dark world. What Guy felt he should be and how he should be. When Julian was killed it all changed. He clung to the cause, wrapping himself in it as one would a blanket on the coldest of nights.

I should have seen. I should have seen and I should have stopped it, long before I became so tired. There is a part of me that believes, still, this end could have been avoided. If I had acted earlier or made more of an effort that we could have all been safe. Guy deserved more than a warm coat and a sad life lived out away from the country he loved so. I never wrote him once he'd been exiled. The letters might have been intercepted after all. I couldn't have, and maintained my own secrets. Sad that those secrets that in the end were made public. In the end, we were all betrayed. When we became agents at Cambridge, we were such idealists, and we believed. It was exciting. Did I ever say that? There was this whiff of adventure that came with being a spy. It was a life that I could never have imagined otherwise. A life I could never have had otherwise. When did it stop being such an adventure? When did watching over my friends become such a task and a trial? The years took their toll. I would say that it was inevitable, but I am not fond of admitting inevitability. I'm not fond of admitting my own faults, nor am I fond of admitting my own part in our downfall. Yet fond or not, it is there. My hubris led us as much to our downfall as their excess did.

Silly, isn't it? To think that we shared secrets that changed the world, and yet it was the simplest things that affected us. Julian's death. Jackie. Stalin making a pact with Hitler in order to buy himself time. The last... Were it not for Kim and myself, I think we would have lost Guy then. He would have self-destructed or done something truly foolish. He was always on the edge, you realise. When I heard of what he did in Washington, driving drunk, appearing at that dinner at Kim's house, I knew just how far Guy had gone. That he'd lost his belief in some way, and had gone over the edge, seeking his own downfall. Only his self-destruction would pull in those associated with him. It would pull in Donald, Kim and myself.

Or it may have been that he was already gone long before Washington and that even to this day I'm fooling myself. I'm letting that same pride colour my memories. It's a difficult thing see things clearly that are in the past. Our visions are filtered to show the events in the light they find most favourable. In some ways our memories are like paintings. They are creations of our own mind that relates to the world but does not truly reflect it. We see that world in the painting through the filter of the artist with our own perceptions layered atop that. A difficult thing to consider when it's something as personal as our own own past. Am I remembering correctly, interpreting the events the way they occurred? Or have my perceptions shaped my very memories? Do I remember things the way I wish them to be? I can no longer tell.

BBC拍的四集电视剧。讲的是真实的故事，但是不晓得有多少杜撰的成分在。演员都演得好极了。看上集的时候只觉得Tom Hollander（演Guy Burgess）的那个出色，看到下集才觉得Toby Stevens和Samuel West也很好。Toby Stevens的Kim Philby很有深度。他也应该这样。Rupert Penry-Jones大概是戏份最少的，人物略显脸谱化。

剧情多么复杂呀，从他们四个30年代在剑桥Trinity College对共产主义的热忱开始，一直到50年代二战结束，冷战时代的开始。
他们四个人，Kim Philby, Guy Burgess, Anthony Blunt, Donald Maclean，30年代时都在剑桥。除了Donald在Trinity Hall之外其他三个人都是Trinity的，Anthony Blunt那时已是Trinity College的fellow，formal的时候坐在high table上。尽管如此，大部分学院内部的场景是在St. Johns拍的（经过我的考证），当然还有Kings大草坪和The Backs拍的戏。据说Trinity当时拒绝了拍摄剧组的要求。哈哈哈。Trinity想必是不缺这个钱罢。Burgess和Blunt从始至终是彻头彻尾的同性恋，Burgess心里最爱的人是Julian Bell，当时另一个Trinity的同学，是Virginia Woolf的侄子。他很清秀。

Guy Burgess: Isn't he beautiful? His name is Julian Bell. He frightens me 'cause he burns so brightly. Bright, beautiful flames burn out.

Blunt，Burgess和Bell三人在Kings的草坪上晒太阳玩耍，Bell抢了Burgess的帽子跑掉了。（关于Blunt， Burgess & Bell，Kim Philby当时和Maclean开玩笑，说这三个人的名字出现在一起听起来像Tunbridge Wells的某个律师事务所的名字。lol）

Anthony Blunt: Even when you're silent the noise is remarkable.
Guy Burgess: Noise?
Anthony Blunt: The noise of your heart pumping away on your sleeve. The cacophony of your gawp.
Guy Burgess: Does it show that much?

台词很戏剧化，非常精致，非常highbrow，甚至有点装蛋，但很有文学性，很有趣，很符合他们的地位，那种坐在厕所里喝着酒还看着Middlemarch的人。
Kim Philby前两集还是个热血的傻小子的样子，女友多如云，私生活混乱，(Burgess: "The university should give you a medal for keeping things up.") 然后两集里他的深度，果决，复杂情感一层一层被揭开，很令人感动。一个间谍的生活，他关心他的朋友们，特别是Burgess和Maclean都比较脆弱， happy & unpredictable。Philby为了保护Maclean，把一个要defect到英国的苏联官员揭穿了，于是那个人死在华盛顿的酒店里，形若自杀，留下三个孩子。Philby出于对Burgess的保护把他调到华盛顿，他查出了Maclean作为Homer的身份，安排他和Burgess一起潜逃到苏联去。那一个晚上Maclean和Burgess在家中吃晚饭，Maclean讲怎样自己搭秋千，含着无比复杂的感情。他的妻子Melinda流泪了。他们都知道当晚他就要登上夜航的船，秘密逃亡苏联，从此永远不会回到英格兰，这片他生活了近40年的土地。
还有临行前Blunt给Burgess订大衣的事情，他送给他一件大衣，他说把我的Middlemarch拿去吧。很深的感情蕴在那本精装的书里。
Philby和Melinda的戏处理的真动人，他是在利用她？他真的爱她？天哪。无比哀婉。有一个情节是间谍联络人要求Philby劝说Melinda住到纽约的娘家去，这样Maclean可以周末去看妻子，便于传送情报。而Kim Philby可以说的那样动听而婉转，让Melinda以为他是爱她，为她动了情，为她的安全考虑才这样说的。（Philby说，I'm thinking for you only.)唉，换了任何一个女人都难以抗拒。
历史事实是Melinda最终离开了Maclean去和Philby过日子了，那是他们都defect到苏联之后的事情。

很多戏处理的非常动人，关于友情和爱情的戏，还有间谍们的脆弱，压力，痛苦，道德的挣扎，良心的纠结。。。事实究竟是怎样我也不得知哦不得知。
总之拍得很好，dramatized的很好。
Blunt和queen mary一起喝酒，queen问他，像你这样的人不是间谍就是同性恋，你是哪个？Blunt微微笑了，说，a little of both, actually.

还有收获之一：知道了defection这个词儿的意思

刚看完剑桥间谍，插曲很好听。

不知为什么哭了，觉得他们好不容易，剑桥五杰，不过，我还是不知道第五个人是谁。

他们为了信仰，为了友情工作着，不曾出卖朋友，他们虽然帮苏联，但他们没有出卖英国的情报。

在那样的年代，真不容易。

很震撼，很震撼。

苏联搞了那么多间谍有什么用，到头来还是解体了，俄罗斯什么实力不用我说了吧。国家比拼还得是国家实力光明正大的比拼。
内心强大的人大多很宽容，国家也一样，留在英国的那位结局不就是个证明。英国容忍了他存在。
幸好在苏联解体前都去世了，不然看着自己叛国为之热血奋斗过的理想最后轻轻一碰就到了，这种残酷真的是外人无法体会到。

至于那位早早去世的，想来才并不适合当间谍，他太理想主义了。看到有人写他要求驻在伦敦的克格勃帮他买某家裁缝店的衣服，那人自己出了回忆录抱怨拿着他写的书单满伦敦逛书店买书，不禁一笑，这可真是贵族式生活。可惜了.....早早酗酒去世
  

那三位都很主流了，那位菲尔金恐怕最现实，早早放弃理想，成为职业间谍了吧，个人猜测。

如果BBC想感动你，你就很难装酷......

很多哲学家美学家都讨论过贵族精神。俺对英国文化不熟悉，也没有被牛津剑桥的等级含义逼疯过。但看完这片子，抓着头发想一想，俺的一点理解是：

1.他们看起来缺乏野心，或者贪婪。在英国，雄心壮志是一个尴尬的字眼。所以会有Effortlessly Fabulous这个词。

2.他们甚至缺乏专注的兴趣

3.他们不需要工作。所以他们可以做自己喜欢的事。但如果做，就一定要做的很好。

4.他们不能缺乏坚定的信仰。信仰黑白与否无关紧要，但一定要有勇气有能力来维护之。

5.永远不能离开Gentleman's Club.请注意这是绅士俱乐部，不是功利至上的社交网络。这是个传统问题，和道德无关。

6.可以失去生命，但要挽回尊严。


俺想，虽然俺们一辈子都需要工作，养家糊口，但俺按照这些规矩做人，大概也能体味到一点所谓的贵族精神。

同时期的德国，却是贵族体制被摧毁的大变革时期。无论贵族精神与否，贵族和平民中都有令人感叹的故事。世界和历史是多么奇妙。

这片子里对美国人的态度，是不屑一顾，极端鄙视的。