新闻编辑室第三季

完结

主演:杰夫·丹尼尔斯,艾米莉·莫迪默,艾丽森·皮尔,小约翰·加拉赫,萨姆·沃特森,托马斯·萨多斯基,戴夫·帕特尔,奥立薇娅·玛恩

类型:美剧地区:美国语言:英语年份:2014

 无尽

缺集或无法播,更换其他线路.

 优质

缺集或无法播,更换其他线路.

 非凡

缺集或无法播,更换其他线路.

 剧照

新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.1新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.2新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.3新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.4新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.5新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.6新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.13新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.14新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.15新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.16新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.17新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.18新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.19新闻编辑室第三季 剧照 NO.20

 长篇影评

 1 ) 永夜还是黎明前的黑暗?

Ep05结尾。
Sloan做了一场赞绝的直播访谈,除了这间接导致了Charlie的死。原以为Sorkin会给Charlie一个明白表达内心的机会,没想到他走向了绝决。那一死,是最极端最壮烈最振聋发聩的明志,不单为Charlie,是为所有心存良知守护新闻专业的媒体人,甚至是为所有坚守不退缩的理想主义者。那一瞬间泪水喷涌。好在他的倒下不是孤独的终点,当Will在监牢里对自己坚定的说出I want your ass kicked really bad时,希望和信心便又有了。

但真的有了吗?
Ep06结尾,也是全剧结尾。Mac当了主席,所有人都在自己的工作岗位上继续着自己的工作和坚持。倒数60秒,新的News Night要开始直播。3,2,1,Will说"Good evening",剧终。
这只是新的黎明到来前的一个晚上,还是永无止境的夜?

这几年一直在拿理想的自己与现实的自己做对抗,对抗的内容关乎未来自己要做什么——厌恶抗拒但能挣不少钱的本来专业,还是注定清苦却向往已久的媒体行业的某一细分领域?
最终算是理想的自己稍稍占了上风。关于对抗的细节不说了,只说如今。
这个月初起,在某知名新媒体平台开始了实习工作,具体工作内容与所希望的还是有些不同,但也确实是密切相关。刚刚做了三周,大部分时间还在适应和寻找节奏,但也有了一些体会。昨天下班,因为接下来这两天休息,所以晚上回到宿舍决定把Newsroom最后两集看完。看到Ep05结尾,从Charlie去世的震惊与难过里回过神来,又陷入了更无边的迷茫与恐惧中。
原因是想到了自己如今的工作。这样大的一个新媒体平台,或许是我刚刚进入有所不知,但目力所及,关于新闻的发布推送,审核?没有;原则?速度一定要快;规范?最重要的规范便是不要涉及敏感人事,以及要起一个吸引人的标题和摘要。
这和Charlie、Mac、Don们在对抗的有什么区别?我抗争了许久才坚定的“理想”,是不是从最一开始就已经被现实吞噬了灵魂?

迷茫和恐惧在继续,找不到出口,因为现实无所不在——现在的我需要这份工作,即使是为了达到理想的彼岸;现在的我无力去改变现实,因为还只是无名无姓的nobody。
但也正因此——经历过自己那点卑微的理想主义被现实碾过只能看到一点残渣的结局——会更加珍惜和看重那些如Charlie们一般能始终坚守而不放弃退缩的人。理想主义是一件太好又太难的事,不敢想象有一天被“现实”统治的世界会是什么景象,却也想象不出它的黎明能够到来。

在自己能够点亮黑暗中的方寸之前,向每一个坚持的堂吉诃德致敬。

 2 ) 乌合之众会拥有真相么?

据闻Newsroom(新闻编辑室)第三季将是最终季,HBO不打算继续跟金牌编剧Aaron Sorkin在Newsroom上合作下去。在剧中一直若隐若现的SNS(社交媒体)幽灵,正在慢慢地向传统的媒体网络(剧中的ACN是一个全媒体网络)伸出它的毒手。就像第三季第四集中的大款老板Pruit叫嚣的那样:数字时代已经来临,众包将替代传统新闻生产。 众包其实是一个从社交网络时代兴起的热词,意思是让更多的人来一起共同完成某件事情(比如:众筹、翻译)。用在媒体领域,就像是Pruit所说的那样:把资源交给大众(更多的大众、普通人),让他们来生产喜闻乐见的新闻:娱乐、体育或者更多形式的内容(视频等多媒体)。 如果众包时代来临,那么传统的新闻生产商:媒体——将有更多人失业,尽管在社交网络时代,媒体已经有很多人失业:信息渠道的增加(信息爆炸),人们不再常常去看报纸、电视。而即使看电视,人们会有更多的选择,也就是说,某个电视节目的替代性产品越来越多。如:你如果觉得中国好声音不好看,就会有另一个节目给你选择:中国好歌曲;还有诸如爸爸去哪儿、奔跑XX之类的节目。如果都不好看?OK,关闭窗口,打开新的浏览器窗口,就好像整个世界都在等着你。 而新闻呢?由于(经过审查的)信息渠道(不是信息来源)越来越多,作为信息渠道某一款产品也拥有着非常多的替代性方案。如果你不喜欢新浪,你可以看网易,你可以看搜狐,如果都不喜欢,你还可以看今日头条。如果你累了,还可以看各门各类的垂直新闻网站,还有一大批的本地新闻网站等着你打开而你或者根本不知道它们存在着(过)。 众包时代就意味着,你会拥有更多的信息传播渠道,更甚至你也会参与其中的信息编辑或传播。这么听着是不是很耳熟?没错,这里说的(可能)就是Micro Blog,即更广义上的微博客:新浪微博、Twitter、Facebook(一部分功能),还有更多可能是SNS网站,甚至是微信。在这里,众包时代把媒体门槛踏破,为普罗大众提供更便捷的的工具和传播途径。也就是说:明天,只要你也会一些简单的编辑操作,你也可以成为主播、编辑、记者,每个人都可以成为新闻的在场者。 每个人都可以成为记者,生产内容——这其实就是一个用户生产内容(UGC)的升级版。但是,我就想Newsroom里的新闻总监Charlie那样对此报以怀疑态度:当每个人都是内容生产者的时候,谁来作double check?当每个人都是第一信息源,那谁来作为Second Source(当然,每个人都可以作second source)?更重要的是:普罗大众真的能产生更宽泛范畴上的新闻观点么?诸如某个政党的选举(当然这里说的是美国、台湾什么的)背后的利益集团问题,诸如某个政客背后的世界观、偏见以及关于公平、公正的讨论等等。 聪明的你或者注意到这样一个悖论存在:如果有着这样一个人,他可以知晓天文地理,可以谈论以上我所列举的一切,他可以做出很多很好的新闻节目,可以剖析得非常到位,那么,他/她还是普罗大众么?这样的举例如果太抽象,可以搜索一下前段时间很火的某个女穷游学家(猫力)的事迹:当一个女生可以奢侈地住各种豪华酒店“穷游”的时候,她就不再是在穷游。 那么,我的意思就是:不是人人都可以成为记者和编辑的?所以我们就应该鼓励诸如澎湃新闻这样的存在?这又不得不变成另一个范畴的讨论:如果是在一个自由出版的环境里(如美国),可以强调“并不是所有人都可以做媒体新闻”的;而在一个不能自由出版的环境里(你懂的)如果你再强调“不是所有人都可以媒体/新闻”的,那就显得装外宾了。 或者到了下结论的时候:当每个人都可以生产内容的时候(如在微信),你可以看到非常多的信息,这些信息包括各类鸡汤和生活指南。当然,这并不是微信的错。 最后,在SNS时代,(自由世界的)普罗大众是可以拥有真相的么?或者说,更形而上地,普罗大众是可以接近真相的么?就像Newsroom里的Pruit说的那样,新闻(剧中Pruit所说的应该是面向18-24岁的青年人的新闻内容)是可以众包的么?当SNS幽灵把剧中的ACN淹没的时候,Aaron Sorkin可能已经想到了另一个出路,以个人博客起家的huffingtonpost已经成为大众媒体。这个媒体里既有类似纽约时报的“阳春白雪”般的内容,也有Buzzfeed“下里巴人”般的搞笑幽默。而且,重要的是这家媒体使用的就类似于“众包”模式:让更多人参与到新闻的编辑和传播中去。 可是悖论又会随之而来,当huffingtonpost成为网络新贵(被AOL以3.15亿美元收购)之后,它就失去了其普罗大众的基础:它开始像其他权威媒体一样,收拢大量的精英人士,搜罗大量的专业编辑记者——很明显,他们都不是乌合之众。

 3 ) 纽约客:本剧校园强奸那一集疯了 New Yorker Critique: “The Newsroom” ’s Crazy-Making Campus-Rape Episode

Newsroom这部剧在美媒下还是有很大争议的,这种争议甚至不是对这部剧的for being liberal,更多来源于liberals for not doing enough。编剧Aaron Sorkin(如同你能从他的写作中看到的那样)常被描述成一个prick,一个smug,或一个chauvinist(比如一个记者曾写一篇文章来叙述Sorkin对她本人采访时候的condescension和不尊重,她说“In Sorkinville, the gods are men." 详见“How to get under Aaron Sorkin’s skin (and also, how to high-five properly)” //www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/television/how-to-get-under-aaron-sorkins-skin-and-also-how-to-high-five-properly/article4363455/),并且因为他的写作局限而被批评(说教性太强、自我陶醉...)

我感觉这些critic比豆瓣上目前看到的影评要成熟更多,并且也更加有效率、progressive。这篇影评来源于New Yorker的Emily Nussbaum (她本人在本剧第一季开始就发表过影评"Broken News"。见//www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/06/25/broken-news,或我的转载//movie.douban.com/review/12970899/)。Nussbaum在2016年因为她在纽约客写的影评获得普利策奖。她个人肯定了第三季的一些进步(比如她比较喜欢的Maggie & morality debate on the train),同时也特别分析批评了Sorkin对于Princeton女大学生 & rape的处理。


newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-newsroom-crazy-making-campus-rape-episode

By Emily Nussbaum

As this review indicates, I wasn’t a fan of the first four episodes of Aaron Sorkin’s “The Newsroom.” In the two years since that blazing pan, however, I’ve calmed down enough to enjoy the show’s small pleasures, such as Olivia Munn and Chris Messina. When characters talk in that screwball Sorkin rhythm, it’s fun to listen to them. As manipulative as “The Newsroom” ’s politics can be, I mostly share them. There are days when an echo chamber suits me fine.

For the first two seasons, the show stayed loyal to its self-righteous formula, which many viewers found inspirational. Sorkin’s imaginary cable network, Atlantis Cable News, would report news stories from two years before, doing them better than CNN and Fox News and MSNBC did at the time. Characters who were right about things (Will McAvoy, Sloan Sabbith, the unbearable Jim Harper, the ridiculously named MacKenzie McHale) strove for truth and greatness, even when tempted to compromise. They bantered and flirted. And each week, they debated idiots who were wrong. These fools included Tea Partiers, gossip columnists, Occupy Wall Street protesters, and assorted nobodies enabled by digital culture—narcissists, bigots, and dumbasses. Sometimes, the debates included sharp exchanges, but mostly, because the deck was stacked, they left you with nothing much to think about.

Often, the designated idiot wouldn’t even get to explain her side of an argument: she’d get to make only fifteen per cent of a potential case, although occasionally, as with an Occupy Wall Street activist, the proportion climbed closer to fifty per cent. There were other maddening aspects of the show—a plot in which a woman who worked in fashion believed that she wasn’t good enough to date a cable news producer, the McAvoy/McHale romance, the Season 2 Africa-flashback episode. So, you know, I had complaints. But I tried to stay Zen and enjoy Munn and Messina. And, in all sincerity, I was happy when the third and final season débuted, because it was such an obvious step up. The early episodes were brisk and self-mocking. There was a nifty, endearingly ridiculous grandeur to the story arc about McAvoy going to jail to protect a source. Even more satisfying, the show's debates with idiots had undergone a sea change. In Season 3, the people who were wrong were allowed to be actively smart (like Kat Dennings’s role as a cynical heiress) and funny (as with B. J. Novak’s portrayal of a demonic tech tycoon who ended up taking over ACN). In certain scenes, they got to make seventy-five per cent of an argument, leading to fleet and comparatively complex debates.

In the single best scene of the whole series, the number jumped to a hundred per cent. Maggie (Allison Pill)—now rehabilitated from last season’s horrible post-Africa, bad-haircut plot—took an Amtrak train from Boston. In a plot cut-and-pasted from the headlines, she overheard an E.P.A. official's candid cell-phone conversation, sneakily took notes, and then confronted him with follow-up questions. Both sides made a solid case: she pointed out that he was in public and her obligation was to be a reporter, not a P.R. conduit. Also, had Maggie gone through “official” routes, he would have lied to her. He argued that by quoting an unguarded, personal discussion, she was making the world a less humane, more paranoid place. So when Maggie threw her notes away, it wasn’t as simple as, “He was right and she was wrong”—she’d made a real moral choice. Given the kind of show that “The Newsroom” is, there was plenty of wish-fulfillment—Maggie got the interview anyway, plus a date with an admiring ethicist—but those elements felt fairy-tale satisfying.

After the Amtrak scene, I turned downright mellow, even fond of the series, the way you might cherish an elderly uncle who is weird about women and technology, but still, you know, a fun guy. My guard went down. So when I watched Sunday’s infuriating episode, on screeners, I wasn’t prepared. What an emotional roller coaster! I will leave it to others to discuss the mystical jail-cell plot, the creepy reunion of Jim and Maggie, the fantasy that even the worst cable network would re-launch Gawker Stalker, and, more admirably, the way that B. J. Novak’s evil technologist character seems to have broken the fourth wall and stepped into reality to disrupt The New Republic. Someone should certainly write about Sorkin’s most clever pivot: he’s taken the accusations of sexism that are regularly levelled at his show and pointed the finger at Silicon Valley, in a brilliant “Think I’m bad? Well, look at this guy” technique.

Yet when it comes to disconcerting timeliness, no scene from this episode stands out like the one in which the executive producer Don Keefer pre-interviews a rape victim. When Sorkin wrote it, he could not have known that CBC radio host Jian Ghomeshi and, later, Bill Cosby would be accused of sexual assault by so many women, some anonymous, some named. He couldn’t have known that an article would be published in Rolling Stone about a gang rape at the University of Virginia or that this story would turn out, enragingly, to have been insufficiently vetted and fact-checked. The fallout from the magazine’s errors is ongoing: it’s not clear yet whether Jackie, the woman who told Rolling Stone that she was gang-raped, made the story up, told the truth but exaggerated, was so traumatized that her story shifted due to P.T.S.D., or what. The one thing that’s clear is that the reporting was horribly flawed, and that this mistake will cause lasting harm, both for people who care about the rights of victims and people who care about the rights of the accused. Key point: these aren’t two separate groups.

Anyway, there we are, with Don Keefer—one of the few truly appealing characters on the show and half of the show’s only romance worth rooting for, with Munn’s Sloan Sabbith—in a Princeton dorm room, interviewing a girl, Mary, who said she’d been raped. In a classic “Newsroom” setup, she wasn’t simply a victim denied justice. Instead, the woman was another of Sorkin’s endless stream of slippery digital femme fatales; she created a Web site where men could be accused, anonymously, of rape. The scene began with an odd, fraught moment: when Don turned up at her dorm room, notebook in hand, he hesitates to close the door, clearly worried that she might make a false accusation. But since this is Season 3, not 1 or 2, the Web site creator isn’t portrayed as a venal idiot, like the Queens-dwelling YouTube blackmailer on a previous episode, who wrote “Sex And The City” fan fiction and used Foursquare at the laundry. The Princeton woman got to make seventy-five per cent of her case, which, in a sense, only made the scene worse.

Before describing the scene between Keefer and the Princeton student, it’s important to note that the scene’s theme of sexual gossip about powerful men has been an obsession since this show began. For a while, Will McAvoy was tormented by a Page Six reporter who first got snubbedby him, then placed gossip items in revenge, thenslept with him, then blackmailed him. There was a similar plot about Anthony Weiner; just last week, Jim’s girlfriend Hallie sold him out in a post for the fictional Web site Carnivore. You’d have to consult Philip Roth’s “The Human Stain” to find a fictional narrative more consistently worried about scurrilous sexual gossip directed at prominent men. It’s a subject that replicates Sorkin’s own experiences, from “The Newsroom” on back to “The West Wing.”

The scene between Don and the student takes place in four segments, as Don reveals to her why he was there: not to talk her into going public, but to talk her out of it. His boss, under pressure to appeal to Millennials and go viral, insisted that the segment be done in the most explosive way possible—as a live debate between the student and Jeff, the guy she claims raped her. As Don and she talk, the woman tells him her story. She’d gone to a party, took drugs, threw up, passed out—and then two men had sex with her while she was unconscious. The next morning, she called “city police, campus police, and the D.A.’soffice.” She can name the guys; she knows where they live. She had a rape kit done. “That should be the easiest arrest they ever made,” she says. At every juncture, Don is sorrowful, rational, gentlemanly, concerned about not hurting her feelings, and reflexively condescending, in a tiptoeing, please-don’t-hurt-me way. Eventually, he tells her that Jeff, the accused rapist, has also been pre-interviewed: Jeff told Don that she wasn’t raped—in fact, she’d begged to have sex with two men.

Back and forth they go, discussing a wide range of issues—legal, moral, journalistic, etc. The dialogue conflates and freely combines these issues. First, there is the question of anonymous accusations, online or off. There is also the question of direct accusations, like the one this student made against a specific guy, in person, using her own name—in a police station and the D.A.’soffice, and then online. There is the question of how acquaintance rape is or isn’t prosecuted in the courts; there is the question of how it's dealt with, or covered up, within the university system; and there is a separate question about how journalists, online and on television, should cover these debates. But a larger question hovers in the background, the one hinted at when Don came in the door: Does he believe her?

When I first watched the scene, I was most unnerved by the way their talk mashed everything together, suggesting that there were only two sides to the question—a bizarrely distorted premise. It’s possible, for instance, to believe (as I do) that a Web site posting anonymous accusations is a dangerous idea and to also think it’s fine for a woman to describe her own rape in public, to protest an administration that buries her accusation, and to go on cable television to discuss these issues. It’s possible to oppose a “live debate” between a rape victim and her alleged rapist and to believe that rape survivors can be public advocates. There was also something perverse about the way the student was portrayed, simultaneously, as a sneaky anonymous online force and also an attention-seeker eager to go on live TV. (And, given the way that Rolling Stones Jackie is now being “doxxed” online, it’s grotesque that the episode has the Princeton woman praise Don for tracking her down, “old-school.”) The actress was solid, but the character behaved, as do pretty much all digital women on the show, with the logic of a dream figure, concocted of Sorkin’s fears and anxieties, not like an actual person.

“The kind of rape you’re talking about is difficult or impossible to prove,” Don tells her. It’s not a “kind of rape,” the woman responds sharply. She argues that her site isn’t about getting revenge, that it’s “a public service”: “Do not go on a date with these guys, do not go to a party with these guys.” Don cuts her off: "Do not give these guys a job, ever." He argues that she’s making it easier for men to be falsely accused, but the woman says that she's weighed that cost and decided that it’s more important that women be warned. “What am I wrong about?” she asks. “What am I wrong about?”

I’d love to see a show wrestle with these issues in a meaningful way, informed by fact and emotion. But eventually, the “Newsroom” episode gets to the core of what’s really going on, that shadow question, and this is when it implodes. The law is failing rape victims, says the student. “That may be true, but in fairness, the law wasn’t built to serve victims,” argues Don. “In fairness?” she says. “I know,” he says, sorrowful again, eyes all puppy-dog. “Do you believe me?” she asks him suddenly. “Of course I do," Don tells her. “Seriously,” she presses. He dodges the question: “I’m not here on a fact-finding mission.” She pushes him for a third time: “I’m just curious. Be really honest.”

Finally, he reveals his real agenda. He’s heard two stories: one from "a very credible woman” and the other from a sketchy guy with every reason to lie. And he’s obligated, Don tells her, to believe the sketchy guy’s story. She's stunned. “This isn’t a courtroom,” she points out, echoing the thoughts of any sane person. “You’re not legally obligated to presume innocence.” “I believe I’m morally obligated," Don says, in his sad-Don voice. WTF LOL OMFG, as they say on the Internet. Yes, that's correct: Don, the show’s voice of reason (and Sorkin, one presumes), argues that a person has a moral obligation to believe a man accused of rape over the woman who said he’d raped her, as long as he hasn't been found guilty of rape. This isn’t about testimony, or even an abstract stance meant to strengthen journalism. (“Personally, I believe you, but as a reporter, I need to regard your story with suspicion, just as I do Jeff’s.”) As an individual, talking to a rape survivor, Don says that on principle, he doesn’t believe her.

At this point, Don gets to make his win-the-argument speech about the dangers of trial by media, lack of due process, etc. “The law can acquit; the Internet never will. The Internet is used for vigilantism every day, but this is a whole new level, and if we go there, we’re truly fucked,” he says. He warns her that appearing on TV will hurt her: she’ll get “slut-shamed.” She begins to cry and tells him that, while he may fear false accusations, she’s scared of rape. “So you know what my site does? It scares you.” Her case will be covered like sports, he remarks with disgust. “I’m gonna win this time,” she replies with bravado. And so Don goes back to ACN and he lies, telling his producer Charlie that he couldn’t find the woman at all—and then Charlie throws a tantrum and dies of a heart attack, but that’s a matter for a different post.

Look, “The Newsroom” was never going to be my favorite series, but I didn’t expect it to make my head blow off, all over again, after all these years of peaceful hate-watching. Don’s right, of course: a public debate about an alleged rape would be a nightmare. Anonymous accusations are risky and sometimes women lie about rape (Hell, people lie about everything). But on a show dedicated to fantasy journalism, Sorkin’s stand-in doesn’t lobby for more incisive coverage of sexual violence or for a responsible way to tell graphic stories without getting off on the horrible details or for innovative investigations that could pressure a corrupt, ass-covering system to do better. Instead, he argues that the idealistic thing to do is not to believe her story. Don’s fighting for no coverage: he's so identified with falsely accused men and so focussed on his sorrowful, courtly discomfort that, mainly, he just wants the issue to go away. And Don is our hero! Sloan Sabbith, you in trouble, girl.

Clearly, I’ve succumbed to the Sorkin Curse once again: critique his TV shows and you’ll find you’ve turned into a Sorkin character yourself—fist-pounding, convinced that you know best, talking way too fast, and craving a stiff drink. But after such an awful week, this online recap might be reduced to: Trigger warning. The season finale runs next week and thank God for that. Like poor old Charlie Skinner, my heart can’t take it anymore.


Emily Nussbaum 本人在本剧第一季开始就已经发了一篇比较critical的影评"Broken News"。见//www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/06/25/broken-news(我的转载//movie.douban.com/review/12970899/)。

在当时,对此,她同编辑室的New Yorker colleague David Denby也写了一篇简短的回应as counterargument.

In Defense of Aaron Sorkin’s “The Newsroom” //www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/in-defense-of-aaron-sorkins-the-newsroom

I loved Emily Nussbaum’s negative review of Aaron Sorkin’s new HBO series, “The Newsroom,” which had its première last Sunday night, but I also enjoyed the show—certainly more than she did—and, afterwards, I felt a kind of moviegoer’s chagrin. Movie audiences get very little dialogue this snappy; they get very little dialogue at all. In movies we are starved for wit, for articulate anger, for extravagant hyperbole—all of which pours in lava flows during the turbulent course of “The Newsroom.” The ruling gods of movie screenwriting, at least in American movies, are terseness, elision, functional macho, and heartfelt, fumbled semi-articulateness. Some of the very young micro-budget filmmakers, trying for that old Cassavetes magic (which was never magical for me, but never mind) achieve a sludgy moodiness with minimal dialogue, or with improvisation—scenes that can be evocative and touching. But the young filmmakers wouldn’t dream of wit or rhetoric. It would seem fake to them. Thank heavens the swelling, angry, sarcastic, one-upping talk in “The Newsroom” is unafraid of embarrassing anyone.

 4 ) What Kind of Day Has It Been

2014年末“The Newsroom”出了第三季,只有6集。奇怪的是我一直没能找到免费资源, 从昨天开始,我迫不及待却有依依不舍的看完这终结季。

看前几集我都有点小失落, 或许是我的期望值太高,但到第四集我开始要流泪,第五集到第六集我就不停的想流泪, 其实我真的在流泪。
不仅仅是因为Charlie的突然去世,有时候你会不会就 想流泪,却分辨不出自己是什么感觉或是出于什么原因。 但你会认同如若另一个看同一个片子,会有完全不同的心境。
我想说What Kind of Day Has It Been , 第六集算是回顾了第一季第一集一个Team的开始,但怀旧不是为了煽情。

不是所有人会喜欢这个剧, 我有时搞不清Will的政治立场;
我常常听Sloan机关枪一样说完一段,我字幕都没看完。
Mackenzie的口音让我着迷,Maggie在公交车的表白让我记忆犹新,
我渐渐忘记了这两年多在剧里的感动, 却记住了这些琐碎,
真正喜欢里面的每一个角色。

Charlie 葬礼后大家一起唱的That's How I Get to Memphis,之前看过片段,应该很多人就是不喜欢但一定不会讨厌乡村音乐, 就好比你一定不会讨厌“Take Me Home, Country Road”
在我的内心里,乡村音乐里总会让人得到慰藉。

我承认我的这个观后感写得很糟糕,因为写出来的不及我想表达的五分之一。但真得我说不出更写不出。我记住了那些温暖,却忘了温暖来自哪里。

 5 ) 泪目地看完第四集。。。。

我觉得我还没办法整理语言来描述。

先留个印记。


每次看这剧都热血得不得了、
上一季播出时还有人陪我在宿舍一起热血一起激动一起热烈讨论
才隔了多久
这剧就要剧终了,而离开本科生活好像也已十万八千里

自己看剧的滋味
找不到同盟
默默抹眼泪 然后转身集中精力干活
自己作战的滋味
和有共同价值观的人相处真是太美妙
Will和Mac,Sloan和Don,Jim和Maggie
愿自己和那位有同样喜好的姑娘能在这大浑水中勿忘初心


希望我们都能成为不违背自己的心的superhero。

 6 ) 专业主义的困局,it is more than it is。

败后或反成功,故拂心处切莫放手。 ———《菜根谭》(通篇也许只有这句话积极向上一点)

当《Newsroom》第三季的海报上写着的"EVERY STORY NEEDS A FINAL WORD."的时候,我无比好奇这样一部理想主义色彩的剧集将会用一个怎样的方式收场作结——在这样一个时代,一群励志要把新闻做好的人会得到一个什么样的结局。

我喜欢林宥嘉版本的《查无此人》,他在唱歌之前讲了一句相信“one great show can change the world”,听那首歌的时候我大一,刚刚接触到这部剧的第一季,看着Will像个老公知一样把问蠢问题的大学生骂得不配拥有妈妈,下定决心要追完这部和自己专业相关的剧集。三年过去了,看完最后一集的自己又把进度条拖回导播喊“60 seconds”处,然后反问自己这三年来观影的感受与成长。
在我看来显然,这是一部great show,不过也很显然的是,它并没有改变世界什么,但对于新闻从业者,准媒体人,新闻系学生,这部剧有足够的干货和三观可以参考和自省,也提出了足够多的好问题供所有人反思。这部剧中的人们对于second sources的几近变态的追求,在新闻播报的选择中坚持新闻价值而不是收视率亦或其它因素的干扰,基于职业素养宁可坐牢也不透露线人的身份,对于互联网的态度、新媒体的态度、真实性和时效性的权衡和坚守……虽然的确有说教的成分,但这些内容就像一面破碎的镜子,反衬出一块又一块残缺的现实媒体行业。我常常在思考,究竟是这个时代的人们没有把新闻做好,还是好的新闻本来就不可能在这个时代被播报出来?

剧中这些人所追求的新闻专业主义,正在一步步走向尴尬的境地。随着社交网络的发展所产生的公民记者遍地开出鲜艳的奇葩,新闻专业主义这种主义,能像社会主义、共产主义、马赛克(哦,不对)马克思主义等其他难以说得清道得明的主义一样值得人们高举旗帜为之奋斗向前么,它在如今还有存在的价值么?我的答案是肯定的,它还没死,它还有着属于它的价值,可还有多少人这么觉得?你觉得现如今的各行各业的媒体记者编辑们有在遵循所谓的新闻专业主义吗?作为一个媒体人或准媒体人,你觉得自己有吗?身边的人有吗?是从什么时候这样对于专业主义的追求却变成了人们口中的理想主义了?又是从什么时候开始理性主义就是一定要满副悲壮主义色彩的与现实对着干了?追本溯源,其实对于新闻专业主义的追求从一开始也并非如剧中那般散发着神圣光辉,那不过是一种处于绝望中的自我安慰、自欺欺人。19世纪中期的美帝正是资本主义全面接管新闻业的时期,那些如Pruitt一样从未接受过任何新闻专业教育的老板们要求新闻人为了发行量、广告收入等等看得见的利益来安排新闻的采编及写作工作……新闻人们或许是出于不被他人所看低,亦或者是把自己同那些他们所鄙视的印刷工人区别开来,他们只好宣称自己因为所谓的“专业”而拥有新闻业的合法性和正统性,将自己的职能视为从事专业化水平的公共服务,维护公共利益。

那么问题来了,在这样一个什么事都要站队,社会矛盾空前尖锐,分化明显的现代社会之中,所谓的专业主义真的能够高举维护公众利益的大旗吗?编剧Aaron Sorkin在S3E5安排了一场Will与父亲的狱中对决,把这个问题抛给了观众———精英主义与民粹主义针锋相对的今天,公众利益所以已经分化成了一个个单独集团的利益,你很难去平衡各群体利益间的冲突,也很难去找到一个能覆盖全社会的群体利益而为之奋斗一生。正因如此Will坐牢了,ACN被拆分了,Charlie因为它并不相信的东西而去世了……我推崇这部剧是因为它虽然理想主义但并不是一味的熬鸡汤回避问题,相反的它直面了许多问题并告诉了人们现实的残酷无情。毕竟人们总有一天会认识到现实生活的残酷,但,认识现实绝不等于变得现实,现实的残酷也可以让人变得更懂得珍惜理想与信仰。刚当选台北市长的柯文哲医生在TED演讲中讲:“最困难的不是面对各种挫折打击,而是面对各种挫折打击,却不失去对人世的热情。”

对现实不失去热情,首先在于认清所处的这个现实。不论你用多恶毒的语言来评价当下这个社会,明天的太阳依旧会照常升起,不论你对于这个时代持何种观点态度,都一定会有另一批人跳出来痛斥你的愚蠢。或许我活得还不够长,但我足够已经接触了这个时代的许多人:
他们对于事不关己的事情,永远是一副高高挂起的姿态。
他们怀揣梦想,忠于理想,不忘初心,除了嘴炮啥也不做。
他们有声称自己有所追求的东西,但当机会来临的时候他们总是没有准备好。
他们打着道听途说的旗号,在各种场合一边绘声绘色地吹着牛逼,一边对所说的内容不负任何责任。
他们总是能找到独特的切入点,在一群乌合之众中脱颖而出闪闪发光,用上帝视角无情的鞭挞着社会大众。
他们喜欢站队,非黑即白,热衷对刚刚才了解的事情发表自己抄来的见解,道理说的比谁都大,道德制高点站的比谁都高。
他们否定商业化的垃圾产物,一边把小鸡腿骂得一无是处,一遍乐此不疲地转发微博段子帮着垃圾做宣传。
他们仇视一切他们所没有的东西,时刻把阴谋论挂在嘴边,坚信官员没有不贪的,富人的财富都是不干净的。
他们虽然受过不算低等的教育,却常常成为反智群体的主力军,宣扬知识无用论,还不如创业去卖红薯赚得多。
他们谈起各类问题最常挂在嘴边的一句话是,这就是当今中国(社会)的现状,说得好像除了他其他人都生活在古代一样。

这是他们的时代,也是我的时代,这就是现实状态下我们的时代,不经意间我也会是“他们”中的一员。因此,为了进步,为了变得更好,这个时代比任何时候更加需要具有专业主义精神的人站出来,代表一些什么,改变一些什么……Will在结尾处说自己有信心,我也有,我想这就是这部剧传达的more than it is的含义吧。

"There's a hole in the side of the boat.That hole is never going to be fixed and it's never going away and you can't get a new boat. This is your boat. What you have to do is bail water out faster than it's coming in."

做好你自己。Good evening.

 短评

这就是那种每句台词都深深回荡在你心里的好剧,看得我都想含一片硝酸甘油。一个英雄倒下了,一个时代逝去了,一种理想失据了,一部神剧终结了,我也好像失恋了。艾伦.索金大人,请收下我的膝盖儿。整部剧都像是他的夫子自道。而英雄们,什么时候才能从树上走下来呢?

5分钟前
  • 匡轶歌
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波士顿爆炸案。本集再次讨论了一个问题,现在这个信息爆炸的时代,作为传统的新闻应该怎么运行?特别是在这种突发事件面前,各种社交媒体点对点的速度要远远快于电视台,但同时也导致真假信息的参杂,需要我们更有一双慧眼来看清。。。。个人评价:A。

8分钟前
  • Riobluemoon
  • 力荐

我們都在笑話Don Quixote,實際上我們都羨慕Don Quixote。

11分钟前
  • 三三.
  • 力荐

这剧从开播就不招人待见,等到了第三季就只剩下索金一个人在战斗。No matter how much I dis/agreed with him, I don't want to fight against him, or beside him. I just want to stand there watching and admiring. Because no one else can fight like Aaron Sorkin.

12分钟前
  • Iberian
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作为臭屌丝却在为身患精英癌晚期的索金倾倒,就像一个男的幻想着自己得了子宫癌一样有戏剧效果,普遍上认为,《堂吉诃德》是一部喜剧。

17分钟前
  • The 星星
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岸边观望者的脸上写满畏惧和嘲讽,而真正活在洪流里的人们只顾日复一日孤勇搏击。

19分钟前
  • 安纳
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向懂得见好就收的美剧致敬。

21分钟前
  • A-sun*
  • 力荐

依旧好看到哭!燃到哭!爱每一个人!

26分钟前
  • 戚阿九
  • 力荐

不完美的完美

29分钟前
  • 同志亦凡人中文站
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只有两种办法可以实现艾伦·索金的世界:1. 人人都是理想主义战士 2.人人都吸毒过量,语速惊人脑袋不清白。

33分钟前
  • Fantasy
  • 力荐

"He identified with Don Quixote, an old man with dementia, who thought he can save the world from an epidemic of incivility simply by acting like a knight. His religion was decency. And he spent lifetime fighting his enemies." This is not just for Charlie, this is for all of you.

38分钟前
  • Sophie Z
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如果一个国家的影视工业和意识形态已经强势到一部美剧就可以让每个国家的知识阶层都患上精神家园的思乡病,那当它真的拍起统战宣传片时该有多可怕?或者说,正因为每部电影和剧集都已作为主旋律的声音被世界各地无障碍接受,它又何须再费力去拍什么统战宣传片呢?

41分钟前
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一个完美的环,看完立刻重返一季循环直到第三遍,可见对此剧方方面面的倾心。客观地说剧集整体的优点和缺点一样明确而突出,但也正因如此,反而更凸显出情感与价值观上的契合。无论是否新闻人,对理想主义的忠贞以及理想遭遇现实的残酷都令人无限敬佩加慨叹,也甘愿成为剧终那个奔走相告的孩子。

45分钟前
  • 艾小柯
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虽然总被说理想主义,但每次还是看的热血沸腾

48分钟前
  • 唐真
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Sorkin的理想主义还是不如他的自恋来得明显。整剧里的女性角色靠Sloan和Leona挽回,自打把ex糗事写进自己剧本后,他剧里的女性角色就全是槽点。

51分钟前
  • \t^h/
  • 还行

艾伦·索金的编剧水准依旧很高。能让人看得既欢乐又伤感,既激昂又感动。每一个角色都是那么可爱而鲜活,让人敬佩,让人喜欢。即使有坑没填,但闪回的结尾配上动听的插曲,依旧让人潸然泪下,依依不舍。再见了,新闻编辑室

53分钟前
  • 汪金卫
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理想主義到最後還是貫徹到了底 Aaron Sorkin還是沒有讓它走悲劇結局 Charlie用了三年時間將這群理想鬥士聚集起來變成了瘋子 他卻先行離去了 謝謝這群飛蛾撲火的浪漫理想主義者 Thank you Don Quixote. Good Evening.是時候重頭再看

56分钟前
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悬念迭起,酣畅淋漓。迷这剧不仅为唇枪舌战的交锋和妙语连珠的犀利,更重要的是敬畏它传递的勇气、信仰和气节。也许它理想化得不合时宜,信仰和节气这东西可能我已经没有了,但看别人有,也是极大的满足和欣慰。

1小时前
  • 发条饺子
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“你知道堂吉诃德么?那个骑士,好吧其实他是个疯子,他自以为自己在拯救世界,但大部分人都认为他是傻蛋。”

1小时前
  • 柏林苍穹下
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"他并不想诅咒没有英雄的时代会如何堕落,但他希望所有人都看到,你们到底在失去什么"。最后一集突然很伤感,回首往昔,让我们看到堂吉诃德是怎么死的,在这个时代里,精英主义是如何的沦为大众的笑柄的,我们的英雄最后都已经死了,好在这群理想主义者依旧战斗着。★★★★

1小时前
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