Chapter 2 Chapter One

Everyone thought he was dead.When my monograph on Heitmann's films was published in 1988, he had not been seen for nearly sixty years.Except for a small group of experts and scholars who delve into film history and movie idiots who love old movies crazily, there are very few people who have heard of this character.The last of his twelve surviving silent comedy short films, Win Double or Lose All, was released on November 23, 1928. Two months later, he did not say goodbye to any friends or colleagues, and did not stay After a few words and without disclosing his whereabouts to anyone, Heitmann stepped out of the rented house on North Orange Road, and has since been lost.The blue De Soto he used to commute is still parked in the garage. The lease of the house is still three months away, and the rent has been paid in full in advance; there is still food in the kitchen, and the whiskey in the wine cabinet is still there. Half of the clothes in the bedroom chest of drawers are not missing.According to the report of the "Los Angeles Herald Express" on January 18, 1929: Judging from the situation at the scene, it seemed that he was just going out for a short walk and would return home at any time.However, not only did he not return home, but from that moment on, Heitmann seemed to disappear from the surface of the earth out of thin air.

For many years after his disappearance, all kinds of rumors and rumors about his whereabouts have appeared in the market, but they are all speculative and far-fetched.Some deduced that he committed suicide to find fault, and some deduced that he was murdered and his ticket was torn apart.Some of the more credible statements have never been found, so they cannot be verified, and there is no way to verify their authenticity.There have been other arguments, more fanciful and fascinating, in between.It is also more in line with the tortuous and romantic plot that such events should have: one faction claims that he has gone back to his hometown in Argentina and is still running a touring circus troupe there; He went to a local dairy factory to stir up labor; others said he became an unemployed vagrant who traveled all over the world on a train.Had Haight been more famous back then, those rumors would have been circulated for a long time.And he himself will continue to live in all sorts of perplexing associations, gradually becoming an immortal legend in the misty illusion, and finally may be regarded as a representative figure who has a brilliant life but a strange fate.It all came to nothing, however, because Hite's acting career came to a screeching halt just as he was making his mark in Hollywood.He never had time to leave an indelible impression on the minds of the world, to teach the outside world to firmly remember who he was and what he was capable of.So after a few years, everyone gradually forgot about him.Around 1932 and 1933, the word Heitmann seemed to have become a thing of the past.If there are any clues to be forced to say, it is probably a few footnotes in some strange books that no one has read for a long time.With the advent of the era of sound movies, those old antiques that flickered on and off and made no sound were immediately forgotten by the world.No more eccentric buffoons playing dumb for the camera, or glamorous modern girls dancing to music no one can hear.But in just a few short years, those images all disappeared without a trace, and seemed to suddenly become ancient things, just like the giant beasts that were once powerful in the prehistoric era, they all disappeared in an instant.

The "Silent World of Heitmann" I wrote does not record Heitt's life in detail.It was a treatise on Hayter's films, not a personal biography, and the bits and pieces of his off-screen activities in the book were drawn from official sources: various film encyclopedias, yearbooks, biographies or memoirs, accounts of early Hollywood Relevant historical materials of the initial process and so on.I wrote that book for the simple reason that I wanted to share my love of Haydt's work.As for the actual situation of his private life, it is completely outside the scope of my concern.Instead of chasing the fictions around him for no reason, I would rather focus on exploring the film itself.Apart from stating that he himself was born in 1900 and his whereabouts have been unknown since 1929, I never thought of leaving any room in the book to express or imply that he is still alive.As far as I know, the dead cannot be brought back to life.If a person can keep silent for such a long time, there is absolutely no other possibility, he must be dead.

The book was published by the University of Pennsylvania Press. As of this March, it has been published for eleven years.Only three months after the book was published, and as soon as there were sporadic reviews in the few professional film journals and research journals, I received a letter.The envelope of that letter was bigger and more square than the ordinary envelopes sold in stationery stores. Because the outer envelope was made of thick and high-grade paper, I initially thought it might be someone’s wedding invitation or birthday announcement.My name and address are written on the envelope in very beautiful and fluent fonts.If the good handwriting was not from a famous calligrapher, he must have been born into a well-known family and received a correct education. He still believes that writing well is the minimum etiquette.The postmark showed that the letter was sent from Albuquerque, New Mexico, but the envelope had another place name and who knows if the name of the place or town was real or not.There are only two lines from beginning to end, which read: Qingshizhuang, Dreamland Town, New Mexico.When I saw the place name, I seemed to laugh on the spot (but thinking about it now, I might not have laughed).There was no sender's signature on the envelope. I only remember that when I opened the envelope and was about to take out the card inside, I smelled a faint fragrance, a faint scent of lavender.

The card reads: Dear Professor Zimmer: Hayter has read the masterpiece, and he would like to see you.May I ask if you would like to visit the house next time?Sincerely, Phaeda Spelling (Mrs. Heitmann). I read it back and forth six or seven times.Then put down the letter, and walk first across the room, then back again; and pick up the letter and read it again, because I want to make sure again that the words are still there. The pile of words is correct, but it is no longer the sentences I read before.Then I read it six or seven times more from beginning to end, but my heart was still flustered, so let's take it as a prank.After a while, all kinds of doubts slowly flooded into my mind, and then more doubts followed one after another, obliterating all the previous doubts.I thought this way and that, making a guess like this, and after a while another guess popped up, which overturned the original one, and then another kind of speculation popped up immediately, overturning every previous one.There was nothing I could do at the moment, so I jumped into the car and went straight to the post office.All towns and cities across the United States, regardless of size, are listed in the zip code search directory. If there is no real town named Dreamland in it, then I can rest assured and throw it away as soon as I get home. Just discard the card and pretend you never received it.As a result, I actually found it; the town of Tierra del sueno (Tierra del sueno) is listed in black and white on page 1933 of the first volume of the directory (the front and rear entries are Tierra Amarilla and Tihera respectively). Tijeras), a town with its own postal branch and five-digit zip code.Of course, this alone is not enough to prove the letter is true, it just adds a little credibility, and on the drive home, I was determined to reply to this letter.Is there any reason not to return?I know very well: I don’t care if I don’t read this kind of letter. Once I read it, I absolutely cannot not obediently reply to the letter, otherwise I will have to worry about it endlessly for the rest of my life.

I didn't leave a draft of that reply letter, but I remember that I wrote it by hand at the time, and I wrote it as short and concise as possible, expressing what I wanted to say in a few sentences.Without thinking about it, I started writing with the other party's straightforward and unpredictable tone.I think it's less likely to show off, and if the whole thing is really just a prank from beginning to end, it won't be taken as a fool by the people behind the scenes.My reply at the time was as follows (one or two words are slightly different): Dear Ms. Phaeda Spelling: Of course I would like to meet Heitmann.But I don't know if this gentleman is still alive?To the best of my knowledge, he has been invisible for more than half a century.Please let me know.Sincerely, David Zimmer.

Everyone probably hopes that all the impossible things in the world will come true one day. This may be because everyone longs for miracles deep in their hearts.Now that I have written the only book in the world dedicated to the study of Heitman, some people think that as long as I make up the fact that he is still alive, I will definitely buy it immediately.Unexpectedly, it was impossible for me to buy it (even if I wanted to).To put it bluntly, that book is just a product of extreme melancholy. Although the book has been written and printed, the melancholy still lingers in my heart.Writing about silent comedy films is nothing more than a superficial excuse. It is actually a Dodger's prescription: I forced myself to swallow it every day for a year, secretly hoping that it would have (even if it was only a tiny bit) enough to heal and relieve grief.And that medicine actually has a little effect.But there's no way that Mrs. Phaeta Spelling (or someone impersonating Phaeta Spelling) knew; she would never know that June 7, 1985, was less than a week On my tenth wedding anniversary, my wife and two young children were killed in a plane crash.Even if she saw the dedication at the beginning of the book: I would like to use this book to commemorate Sea Thief, Todd and Marco, she still has no way of knowing the relationship between them and me. It is of great significance, and it is impossible to know that those three names actually represent everything in the author's life, let alone know that when Helen, who was thirty-six years old, Tad, who was seven years old, and Marco, who was four years old, died, most of the author himself died. Buried.

That day Helen took the child back to Milwaukee's natal family to visit her parents, while I was still alone in Vermont, busy grading students' homework, and planned to type up and hand in the grades as soon as the semester was over.Yes, I was a faculty member teaching comparative literature at Hampton University in Vermont, and yes, that was a job I had to do myself.We originally planned to wait until the 24th or 25th to set off together, but Helen’s father had just undergone surgery to remove a tumor in his foot. After discussion among the family of four, it was decided that she would take the two children and set off as soon as possible. Go to visit.Due to the hasty decision on the schedule, there was one more troublesome thing to deal with temporarily: we had to bite the bullet and negotiate with the elementary school where Tad attended, asking the school to allow him to skip the last two weeks of class at the end of the second grade.Although the headmaster expressed his understanding at the time, his face showed embarrassment.After constant fighting, she finally reluctantly accommodated.This incident later became (one of) my lingering hatreds.If she had stuck to the school's stance and refused to release her early, Tad would have had to stay with me so that she wouldn't lose her life.At least one of the three mother and child can escape.At least one person won't fall from seven miles and leave me alone as a family of four.Of course, I still have countless other hatreds in my heart, many knots that can’t be resolved, endless horns, which I use to torture myself anytime and anywhere, and I jump into it again and again without hesitation. Struggling with them again and again.Everything is inseparable, everything is intertwined and intertwined, leading to the final tragedy. Everything from the tumor on my father-in-law's leg to the weather conditions in the Midwest during those few days, the phone number of the travel agency that booked the ticket number blah blah blah.Worst of all: I was being smart enough to drive them to Boston for a direct flight.I was worried about letting them take a flight at the nearest Burlington airport, because then they would have to take a small 18-seater propeller plane to New York for a connecting flight to Milwaukee.I said to Helen: I have always hated taking small planes.Small planes are too dangerous. I will never allow you and your child to take a small plane by yourself.So, they followed my advice and didn't take the small plane just to keep me from worrying.They went to take a big plane, and the worst thing is: still under my urging, they were sent to die on that big plane.There was a lot of traffic on the road that morning, and after we had made our way to Springfield and onto the Massachusetts Expressway, I had to slam on the gas and speed as fast as I could to get to Logan Airport in time.

Now I have almost forgotten how I survived that summer. I only vaguely remember that for several months in a row, I drank my sorrows day and night with alcohol. In one step, he barely ate, never washed his hair and shave his face, and changed his laundry pants.Fortunately, during that period, most of my colleagues went on vacation in other places, and they will not return until mid-August. I don’t have to cheer up and entertain guests all day long. It's like sitting on pins and needles.Of course, the friends who specially visit are out of good intentions, as long as someone comes to the door, I will invite them to come in for a sit-down.It's just that the tearful hugs and lengthy and embarrassing speechless speeches over and over again didn't help at all.I think it's best for everyone to ignore me and just let me indulge in the dark corners of my heart day after day.During those days, if I was not drunk and slumped on the sofa in the living room staring at the TV, I was just wandering around the room all day long.Sometimes I hide in two kids' rooms, sit on the floor, and put myself between their things.I can no longer think of them directly and summon them in my heart. I can only try to let myself play with their puzzles and Lego blocks, and try to form one complex and exquisite building after another. It seems that I can reunite with them for a while. By repeatedly simulating the actions of the two when they were alive with flesh and blood, they illusoryly prolong their young lives that have long since disappeared.Sometimes I read Tad's story books one by one, sorting out his collection of baseball cards one by one.Sometimes I arrange Marco’s stuffed animals one by one, and every time I enter his room, I change the arrangement: the last time I sort them by species, this time I sort them by fur color, and the next time I sort them by size, so that I can wear them down. Hour after hour, long day after day.Whenever I can't take it anymore, I wander back to the living room and fill myself another glass of wine.On the few nights I didn't get unconscious and drunk on the couch, I usually slept in Tad's bed.Every time I lay back on my big bed, I would dream of Helen lying next to me again. Every time I would reach out to touch her, and every time I would wake up suddenly with a sharp and fierce tearing in my heart, and I would desperately move my hands. Grabbing wildly in the air, breathing almost stopped, the whole person seemed to sink into the bottomless sea.I dare not even set foot in the master bedroom after dark, but I spend a lot of time there during the day.Sometimes I would open Helen's closet, touch her clothes, arrange her coats and sweaters in order; or take off the clothes she usually wears from the hangers and spread them on the floor one by one.One time, I picked one of them and put it on myself; another time, I even put on her underwear and painted my face with her makeup.That make-up experience was very helpful to me, but after trying a lot, I found that perfume works better than lipstick and mascara.Perfume is the most able to make me feel her figure as if in front of me, and the most lasting.Lucky for me, I just gave her a bottle of Chanel No. 5 as a birthday present in March of that year.As long as you strictly limit yourself to using it only twice a day, and only spray a little each time, that bottle of perfume should be enough to last until the end of summer without any problem.

After the fall semester started, I still didn’t go back to school for vacation, but I neither traveled far nor sought help from a psychologist. During that time, I stayed at home and continued to sink.Around the end of September and the beginning of October, I had to get rid of more than half the bottle of whiskey every night.Thanks to alcohol, I've been able to avoid getting hurt at every turn, but it's also prevented me from having any hope for the future.If a person has no expectations for the future, it is actually almost dead.I was in a long state of intoxication day and night. During the trance, the idea of ​​taking medicine and turning on gas came to my mind more than once.Although I never actually took that last step, every time I look back now, I know it was only a little bit closer.The sleeping pills are in the medicine cabinet. In fact, I took out the medicine bottle from the cabinet three or four times, and poured a few pills in the palm of my hand.If the situation at that time lasted a little longer, maybe one time I would have the courage to swallow it all in one breath.

I was that virtue at the point in time when Heitmann broke into my life out of the blue.At that time, I didn't know who that guy was, and I didn't have the slightest impression of his name, but on the night when winter was about to fall, all the leaves outside the house were falling, and the first snow was about to fall, I accidentally saw him on TV. A fragment of an old movie made me laugh out loud.It might not sound like a big deal, but since June that year, nothing has ever made me laugh.At that time, I felt a sudden convulsion in my chest and pulled the lobes of my lungs, followed by a giggle.I immediately understood one thing: I hadn't reached the point of doom at all, and the will to continue living still remained deep in my heart.In fact, it was only a few seconds from beginning to end.As for the laughter, it wasn't extremely loud and didn't last very long, but it still gave me a jump.First, I didn't try to hold back my laughter, and second, I wasn't ashamed to temporarily forget my own sadness during the few seconds that Heitman appeared on the screen.This forced me to comprehend: besides wanting to die, there is a certain kind of energy hidden in my body that I could never have imagined before.This is not the kind of ethereal sadness or emotional ups and downs in the face of irreparable regret.I had a very clear realization at the moment, a solid and irrefutable realization: If I can still be laughed at, it means that I am not 100% insensitive; it proves that I have not completely closed myself and sealed off the outside world. . It must have been shortly after ten o'clock when it happened.As usual, I slumped on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and the remote control in the other, aimlessly pressing keys to change channels.Then I turned to the show that had just started, and after a while, I realized that it was a documentary about the evolution of silent comedy.Several well-known actors such as Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, etc. appeared in it one after another, but there were also some rare clips from movies that I had never heard of, and it was full of actors who were relatively unfamiliar to me. , such as: John Bonny, Riley Simon, Lupino Lane, and Raymond Griffith.I was absent-mindedly watching those people making jokes on the screen. Although I didn't intend to watch it seriously, probably because the content was still interesting, I stopped on that channel and didn't turn the channel again.Heitmann didn't appear until the second half of the show, and they cut a two-minute segment from his teller's appearance; the scene of the film was set as a bank, and Heit played the hard-working teller clerk.I can't say exactly what caught my attention, but I saw him in a white summer suit, standing behind the counter counting stacks of banknotes, his movements were very neat and deft, and he looked nervous and concentrated It looked like I couldn't take my eyes off it gradually.In the picture, a decoration worker upstairs is busy laying new floors in the bank manager's office; while at the desk on the other side, a pretty female secretary sits behind a huge typewriter and does her nails.At the start of the clip, Hayter, who is counting money at breakneck speed, seems to have nothing else to do.Then, the sawdust floated down from the ceiling very slowly and landed on his coat. After a few seconds, he noticed the female secretary at the other end.Originally, one thing suddenly turned into three things, so, focusing on work, maintaining dignity, and itching formed a kind of trilateral relationship, from which a series of jumping rhythms unfolded: it is necessary to continuously count money, and Worried about getting your beloved coat dirty, and eager to flirt with the female secretary.Moreover, Hite's mustache would twitch quickly from time to time, as if to grunt or grit his teeth secretly.This video is not all about nonsense, but also highlights the character of the characters and the rhythm of the drama. It can be said to coordinate the three different elements of objects, body and mind very skillfully.Hayter's character has to recount the same wad of bills over and over again because he's so distracted that he keeps forgetting where he's counting, so he has to double his original speed.Whenever he looked up to see where the sawdust came from, he was half a beat late. The worker always patched the hole in the floor a second before; Turn to look in another direction.Throughout, however, Hayter tried his best to keep his composure, not to let the little things thwart his resolve and his good sense of self.That sequence might not be the best silent comedy I've ever seen, but it grabbed my attention, and I couldn't help it, seeing Hayter flick his mustache for the second or third time. At that time, I laughed, and laughed out loud. At that time, I focused all my attention on the video, and didn't pay much attention to the narration of the documentary; I vaguely remembered mentioning that: Hite mysteriously left the acting career at that time, and he was recognized as an important comedian in the field of last silent short films.By the 1920s, most of the film comedians who had established their status in the film industry and followed the trend of the times had changed their careers and made feature films with sound, and the quality of comedy short films had dropped sharply.The narration of the film said: Although Heitmann has not brought any innovations to the genre, he is still recognized as a talented comedian with excellent body control skills and a rising star worthy of high expectations. shine.At this point, Haidt's paragraph ended, and I began to listen carefully to each narration.Frames of still photos of comedians alternately appear on the screen, and the narrator regrets that there are very few films from the silent film era. Numerous brilliant performances have thus never seen the light of day.The narrator continues: Fortunately, it's not all hopeless.Recently, many old films have been unearthed one after another. Take Heitmann as an example. As of 1981, there were only three works of his original surviving works. Stills, screenings, etc.), but the film itself has been declared lost.Then, in December of the same year, the National Film Archive in Paris received an anonymous package.The package, apparently sent from downtown Los Angeles, contained a near-new copy of the seventh of Heitmann's twelve works, Big Character Dance.Over the next three years, eight such packages were sent to film archival institutions around the world: the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the British Film Institute in London, the Eastman Pavilion in Rochester, the American Film Institute in Washington, The Pacific Film Archive in Berkeley, and again the National Film Archive in Paris.By 1984, all of Heitmann's works had been collected by the aforementioned six institutions.Those packages were all sent from different cities and distributed widely, some from Cleveland and San Diego, some from Philadelphia and Austin, and some from New Orleans and Seattle. Without a single word attached, the identity and geographical relationship of the donor is completely impossible to check.The narrator concludes: While this incident has added a layer of mystery to Heitmann's enigmatic life and film career, the entire film industry is grateful for this act of kindness. I am not at all interested in the mysteries and mysterious events mentioned in it, but while watching the subtitles at the end of the show, a thought suddenly flashed in my mind: If there is a chance, it might not be bad to watch those films.Those twelve movies are scattered in six cities in Europe and the United States. If you want to watch them one by one, it will definitely take a lot of time.I estimate that at least it will take several weeks, or even as long as a month or a month and a half.I didn't expect to write a book about Heitmann in the future.I just didn't want to be idle at the time, and I wanted to find something dispensable and irrelevant to do to fill the gap before resuming work.In the past half a year, I watched myself live more and more unworthy.I knew very well that if I continued like this, there would be only a dead end.I don't care about what to do, let alone whether I can make something famous in the end. Given the almost desperate situation at the time, I might find any other thing to do on a whim, but that night, it took the initiative to run before my eyes.Thanks to that two-minute clip and one short laugh, I decided to go everywhere and catch up on those few silent comedies. I'm not a movie buff.When I was still in graduate school in my twenties, I began to teach literature courses, and all my work since then has been inseparable from books, language, and writing.I have translated the works of several European poets (Rocca, Eluard, Leopardi, Michaux, etc.), and I have also written literary reviews in newspapers and magazines, and published two collections of reviews.The first book is called "Voice in the Field", which analyzes the works of Hamsun, Serling and Pound, and explores the relationship between politics and literature according to their pro-fascist actions during World War II.The second book "The Road to Abyssinia" studies writers who gave up writing in the middle of their careers, including: Han Bo, Hammett, Lola Redding, Salinger, etc. Poets and novelists who dropped out of writing.Around the time of Helen's accident with her two children, I was working on another new book about Stendhal.I don't hate movies, but I can only say that movies have never been important to my life. In my teaching and writing career of more than fifteen years, I never thought of expressing any opinions on it.My attitude towards movies is no different from that of the general public. It is nothing more than a pastime, a dispensable activity, and it doesn't matter whether I watch it or not.No matter how beautiful the shots are and how soul-stirring the pictures are, the movie still cannot shake and satisfy me like the words.I always feel that movies give too much, leaving almost no room for the viewer to imagine, and it is paradoxical that the more realistic the movie is, the less it can accurately convey the real world because reality does not only exist on the outside , also exists in our hearts.That's why I prefer black-and-white photographs to color photographs, and silent films to sound films, in my bones.Film is a visual language that uses images projected in two-dimensional space to tell stories.Adding sound and color to the image creates the illusion of a three-dimensional space, but at the same time deprives the purity of the image.With more sound and color, the image does not have to go all out as in the past; instead of sound and color can not complement each other and make the film reach a perfect state, it weakens the visual language that was supposed to be a bonus.As I sat in the living room of my home in Vermont that night, watching Hayter and other comedians pass by, I was startled to witness a vanished art, one that is now completely extinct and will never be. Then there is the craft that anyone engages in.And, even though movies have come a long way since those films came out, their performances still look as lively and heart-pounding as they do in their first releases.That's all because they are so familiar with the language they use; they have created a whole set of visual sentences, body grammar, and except for the costumes and the cars and antique furniture in the background, they are not at all old-fashioned.Since all thoughts must be translated into action, and any inner emotion must be expressed through the body, there is no danger of becoming obsolete.The vast majority of silent comedies don't bother telling a story at all.They are at once like poetry, like the deduction of dreams, and like some kind of complicated and delicate mood swings; and because silent films are dead, we may be able to discover more profound things from them today than audiences did back then.We watch those silent films across the gap of forgetting, and the reason why they are so fascinating is that the long space-time blocks their silence and dullness, their colorless and colorless rhythms.These are hindrances that make viewing more difficult, but they also free the image from its heavy burden of meaning.They lie between the viewer and the film, so we don't have to deceive ourselves and pretend that what we see is the real world.The flat screen world originally only existed in a two-dimensional space, but we must add our brain activities to form a three-dimensional space. I made up my mind to drop everything and pack up and head out the next day.Anyway, I took a leave of absence for the whole semester, and the new semester will not start until mid-January next year.During this period of time, I can do whatever I like and go wherever I want.And to be honest, if I don't think that's enough, I can take another semester, two semesters, or even an indefinite leave of absence as I please.It's ironic to say that I was able to do this thanks to the total destruction of my life.The death of Helen and the two children has made me rich overnight.The first sum of money came from the life insurance that Helen and I purchased under the lobbying of the insurance salesman when I first came to teach in Hampton. It's too high, and you only need to pay a mere amount that you don't need to worry about every month.After the plane crash, I actually forgot to have that insurance; less than a month after the incident, an unexpected guest came to my door and personally handed over a check worth hundreds of thousands of yuan.Not long after, the airline reached a settlement agreement with the families of the victims. Since three of my close relatives died in the accident, it was equivalent to winning the consolation prize of the highest amount in the compensation jackpot, which demonstrates the impermanence of life and death, and the inhumanity of heaven and earth.In the past, we used to rely on my teaching salary at the university plus Helen’s occasional writing fees, and our family was always frugal and thrifty.Therefore, as long as there is an extra thousand yuan in the account one day, it is a big deal for us.Now I have thousands of times of one thousand yuan in one go, but it doesn't make any sense at all.After receiving the check, I shared half of it and remitted it to Helen's parents, but they returned the money to me. In addition to thanking me for my kindness, they also repeatedly stated that they would not accept the money anyway.Later, I bought a whole new set of play equipment for the elementary school where Tad attended, donated 2,000 yuan to Marco’s childcare center, used it to purchase books and set up a beautiful sandpit, and persuaded my sister who lives in Baltimore She and her brother-in-law, who is a music teacher, received high cash sponsorship from Ji's Dead Money Fund.If I can find more relatives, I will continue to send money out, but both my parents are dead, and my sister Deborah is the only relative.So I simply set aside a large sum of money to set up a Helen Macan Travel Grant Program at Hampton University in Helen's name.The idea was simple and straightforward: select a new graduate every year, give him a cash sum for excellence in the humanities, and nothing else, no strings attached, no eligibility restrictions.The scholarship winners will be selected by a selection committee composed of professors from different departments (Department of History, Department of Philosophy, Department of English and Department of Foreign Languages) serving as committee members in rotation.As long as it is used for overseas travel, the winner of the Macan Award has complete freedom to dispose of the prize money without anyone asking.It took a huge amount of money to set up that grant, but even if it was a huge amount (about four years of my salary), it was still only a small fraction of my total assets.And even though I tried my best to think of all kinds of reasonable names and exhausted all the channels that could be donated and sent, there was still a large amount of money left in my hand and I didn't know what to do with it.That was really a very uncomfortable and unbearable windfall, and every penny was exchanged with blood.If it weren't for this plan to watch movies across the sea, I might have continued to spread the money until there was nothing left.But on that chilly night in early November, it occurred to me to make some excursions, which, were it not for the lack of financial resources, I could never have afforded such extravagant impulses.Anyway, keeping that money in hand is just Ling Chi to me.So, let's take it as an antidote, as a way of relief from mental breakdown in the future.Staying in hotels and dining out is expensive everywhere, but for the first time in my life, I can spend money freely without worrying about whether I can afford it.Though gloom and melancholy still haunt me, my freedom of movement, and my pockets full, allow me to squander my freedom as I please. Half of the films are located within driving distance of home.羅徹斯特得開車往西約莫六個鐘頭，紐約與華盛頓則在南邊大約開車五個鐘頭可到達第一站，再花五個鐘頭則可到第二站。我決定先從羅徹斯特開始。冬天即將來臨，愈晚動身，途中遭遇風雪、碰上路面結冰的風險就愈大，屆時恐怕會陷在天寒地凍中不得動彈。隔天我打電話到伊士曼館，要求前往觀賞他們收藏的海特曼恩影片。這類事情通常都怎麼進行，我完全沒有概念，但我不想讓對方認為我一竅不通，便開門見山直接說我是漢普頓大學的教授。希望他們會把那頭銜當一回事而不至於把我當成某個沒頭沒腦的冒失鬼（其實我是）。那位接電話的女士問道：喔，你在寫跟海特曼恩有關的題材啊？聽她的語氣，似乎那就是正確答案無疑，我頓了一下，支支吾吾照著說出她預期聽到的答案：嗯，是的，沒錯，正是如此。我正在撰寫一部關於曼恩的書，基於研究上的需要，我想親自前去觀賞貴館收藏的影片。 於是，我的看片之旅就這麼開始了。我很慶幸自己及早付諸行動，因為一看完羅徹斯特的兩部影片（贏得美人飛與探頭探腦），我當下便確信此行絕對值回票價。海特的才氣與功力果然不負我的期待，假如其他十部影片也具備相同水準，那還真該為他寫本書，他實在值得重新受到世人矚目。於是，打一開始，我就不再只是單純看片打發時間，而是決心下工夫研究他的作品。要不是當初與羅徹斯特那位女士在電話中那番對答，我還真沒想到要寫書。按照原本單純的盤算，我估計到那年聖誕節、頂多隔年年初，整個看片行程大概就可大功告成。結果，直到隔年二月中旬，我才看完海特的所有影片。原本只打算每部片子各看一次，後來變成每部片都看了好幾遍。各收藏單位也不只待上區區幾個鐘頭，而是盤桓數日，利用剪接臺、看片機一再倒片、播放，從早到晚目不轉睛盯著海特，一鼓作氣看一整個上午、再一鼓作氣看一整個下午；不停來回捲送膠片，直到兩眼疲憊到幾乎睜不開為止。我拚命做筆記、頻頻查書、寫下密密麻麻的心得，翔實記錄每場戲的取景鏡位、攝影角度、打燈位置，仔細且全面分析每一段影片，所有枝微末節都不放過。而每到一處前，我一定做足全部功課、把所有影片看到熟記於心，這才移往下一站。 我自始至終都沒想過那樣拚命究竟值不值得。我好不容易找到一件事做，對我來說，重要的就是抱定貫徹到底的決心。我明白海特只被歸為千萬個競逐影壇失利的微不足道小角色之一，但這絲毫無礙我衷心讚賞他的作品，更以一路有他相伴為樂。當年他以每個月一部的超高效率拍攝那些影片，而且開銷甚低，攝製費用之低遠遠不足以支應攝製一般喜劇默片絕不可少的刺激特技與驚險場面所需，簡直拮据得令人納悶他到底如何拍出那十二部作品，何況還是十二部極具看頭的電影。根據我所讀到的資料，海特當年在好萊塢是以道具工人和布景畫師起家，偶爾也充當臨時演員，曾在不少部喜劇片中跑龍套，他後來遇到貴人一名想涉足電影圈的財主西摩杭特，才總算得到自導自演的機會。杭特是出身辛辛那提的銀行家，一九二七年初赴加州獨資成立製片公司萬花筒影業。現存所有資料都指出，杭特是個性格顢頇跋扈且行事偷雞摸狗的人，不僅對電影這行一竅不通，也不擅長商業經營，萬花筒只維持一年半就宣告倒閉。杭特本人則受到違法炒股、侵占公款兩項指控，後來他趕在對簿公堂之前上吊自殺。儘管要錢沒錢、要人沒人，還得忍受杭特一天到晚處處扯後腿，海特仍舊緊緊抓住機會、使出渾身解數。他拍的電影統統沒有腳本，甚至連前置作業亦付之闕如。端賴海特和身邊一對搞笑搭檔安祖莫菲與朱爾布勞斯登三人臨場即興創作、邊想邊拍，還經常不得不將就運用臨時借來的場地、疲憊的工作人員、老舊的器材，趁夜深人靜進行拍攝。他們沒錢拍攝十幾輛汽車轟然撞成一團或大群牛隻集體奔竄，也負擔不起樓房倒塌、爆破等特效；更別提洪水氾濫、颶風肆虐那種壯觀場面，也沒有能力呈現洋溢異國風情的景色。追加預算的機會微乎其微，假如過程中哪個點子未能符合原先設想，也完全沒有餘裕事後補拍。所有拍攝流程都得按部就班，一點都馬虎不得。每個爆笑橋段都經過縝密計算：每分鐘有三個笑點，然後碼錶歸零、重新計時。即使周遭有許多各式各樣的不利因素，海特似乎優游自得、游刃有餘。他的影片儘管格局不大，卻自有一股親和力，能吸引觀眾、讓人自然融入其中。我明白研究電影的學者為何重視他的作品但也理解為什麼從來沒人熱中那些影片。既然他沒做出任何重大突破，而且他的全部作品皆已重新出土，那麼關於他的歷史定論也就無須改寫。儘管海特的電影對於這門藝術貢獻甚微，但他的影片並非全無可取之處，我看得愈多，就愈喜愛片中蘊藏的靈氣與不刻意賣弄的慧黠、他滑稽逗趣而又楚楚可憐的神態。我旋即發現，至今還沒有任何人看遍海特的所有作品。由於最後幾部失傳影片直到晚近幾年才出現，加上沒人會只為觀賞那幾部影片跑遍全世界走訪各個典藏機構，如果我能堅持走完全程，就將成為全世界頭一個做到的人。 離開羅徹斯特前，我打了通電話給漢普頓大學教務長史密茲，告訴他我想再多請一學期的假。起初他有點為難，表示已經將我的課程排入課表、也已對外公告，但我騙他自己正在接受心理治療，他聽完立刻道歉。現在回頭想想，那真是個很卑劣的謊話。可是，當時我正在為自己的人生奮戰，實在不想多花力氣向別人解釋為何突然間四處奔波看默片對我十分要緊。接著我們熱絡地聊了一會兒，最後他還祝我一切順利，儘管我們兩人都假裝下學期我就會返校上課，但他八成已經察覺我想開溜，早就無心戀棧教職。 我在紐約看了醜事外揚與鄉下週末，然後轉往華盛頓看出納員現形記與贏雙倍或全輸光。然後我就近在杜邦圓環旁的旅行社為接下來的行程訂票（到洛杉磯的美國國鐵列車與開往歐洲的伊莉莎白二世女王號郵輪），但隔天一早，不知怎地，我突然鼓起不知哪兒來的餘勇，把前一天訂好的車票、船票統統取消，臨時決定改搭飛機。這簡直是笨膽包天，不過既然難得有了好的開始，我想索性一鼓作氣。姑且撇開我得硬著頭皮強迫自己進行一件打死都做不到的事；我實在很想乘勝追擊，就算到時必須倚賴藥物才能安然度過那道關卡，我也做好心理準備，該吞多少藥才夠讓我昏死過去，那就吞唄。美國電影學會有位女士向我推薦一位醫生，我原以為大概花五到十分鐘去醫院看個診就解決了。見到醫生只須開口向他討幾顆應急藥丸，然後他開張處方箋給我，十分輕鬆省事。畢竟，害怕搭飛機是非常普遍的症狀，根本沒必要扯到海倫和孩子，也不需對別人掏心掏肺。我只想讓中樞神經系統停止運作幾個鐘頭，可是那種東西又不是街上隨隨便便就能買到，萬不得已去看診全是為了拿到那張有醫生簽名的處方箋。結果，那位辛大夫竟然絲毫不肯打馬虎眼，他一邊照章行事為我量血壓、測心跳，一邊東問西問一大串問題，害我在醫院裡足足待了四十五分鐘。他很高明，曉得如何不露痕跡循循善誘，一步步揭開我的底細。 他說：季默先生，每個人終究不免一死，為什麼你偏偏認為搭飛機會喪命？如果你相信統計數字，待在家裡的死亡機率比搭飛機還高哩。 我答道：我可沒說我怕死，我只說怕搭飛機。Those are two different things. 只要飛機不摔下來，又有什麼好擔心呢？ 我是對自己沒把握。擔心管不住自己，我不想讓自己出洋相。 我不大明白你的意思 只要光想像自己踏進機艙，不必等到坐定，我肯定就當場爆了。 爆了？怎麼個爆法？你的意思是會情緒失控？ 對，我會在四百個陌生人面前崩潰。我會抓狂。 那麼，請想像一下你會出現哪些脫序行為？ 那就難說了。我也許會大吼大叫，也許會一拳打在別人臉上，也可能闖進駕駛艙勒住駕駛員的脖子。 都沒人攔著你嗎？ 怎麼沒有。一大群人蜂擁而上，硬把我摁倒在地，然後把我揍得半死。 季默先生，你最近一次跟人打架是什麼時候的事？ 我不記得了。還是小孩的時候吧，大概十一二歲左右。學校生活難免嘛，就是抵抗霸凌之類的。 那為什麼你認為現在還會跟別人打起來？ No reason.我就是覺得自己骨子裡帶著這種因子。誰要把我惹毛，那我可不保證管得住自己，什麼事都可能發生。 那為什麼特別擔心在飛機上發作呢？你就不怕自己在地上也可能控制不住？ 就因為搭飛機太安全了，這大家都曉得。搭飛機既安全又迅速、又有效率，只要一飛上天空就一切太平。我怕搭飛機，不是因為覺得搭飛機會死而是因為搭飛機從不死人 季默先生，你曾經尋短，是嗎？ No. 但你想過？ 當然想過。沒想過我還是人嗎我？ 所以這是你上這兒來的目的？打算拿著我的處方箋，合法取得某種保證有效的藥，了結自己的生命？ 醫生，我只打算不省人事，不是要尋死。吃藥是為了讓自己睡著，只要能昏睡過去，我就不必去想自己會幹嘛。人上去了，但腦子沒上去；只要達到這種效果，我就不用一路提心吊膽。 你提心吊膽是要防什麼呢？ 防我自己。提防自己提心吊膽、提防知道一路將會平安無事的恐懼。 所以你預期這趟旅程會平穩順暢，我還是不明白這樣有什麼好怕的。 正因為我穩贏不輸。我知道飛機會安全起飛、安全著陸，一抵達目的地，我還能活著走下飛機。你八成會說：那恭喜啊。可是，一旦平安無事，我原本的信念就會全部瓦解。醫生，我侮辱了那些死者；我把一樁大悲劇變成了只是單純的走霉運。這樣你明白嗎？我等於告訴那些死者，你們的死全無意義。 他當下就明白了。我其實什麼也沒提，但那位心思縝密的醫生就已猜出剩下的部分。在那小小的診療間裡，頭上頂著白慘慘的日光燈、到處都是金屬表面冷冰冰的反光，那位皇家醫學院畢業、在喬治城大學附屬醫院內科部駐診，一口純正英國腔、略微少年禿的Ｊ． M．辛醫師，當下全盤了解我想說卻說不出口的話。我坐在診療臺上，逐一扣上襯衫前襟，兩眼定定盯著地板（我不想看他，我不想一個不慎忍不住掉淚），接著，彷彿經過漫長而尷尬的沉默，他伸出手搭在我肩頭說：請節哀我真的很遺憾。 那是長達好幾個月來頭一回有人碰觸我的身體，我頓覺渾身不舒服，對於自己淪為別人憐憫對象感到一陣強烈反感。我對他說：醫生，用不著同情我，你只要開藥給我就好。 他把手縮回，微微苦笑一下，然後坐回角落。當我紮好襯衫，看著他從白袍口袋裡掏出處方箋本子。他說：我這就開處方給你，但在你離開前，我要請你重新考慮你的決定。我大概曉得你的心情，季默先生，我不大放心讓你身處可能勾起傷痛的環境。還有很多其他交通方式可供選擇，或許，你這陣子應該盡量避免搭飛機。 我說：我不要走回頭路，我決定正面迎戰。路途實在太遠，我下一站要到加州柏克萊，接著還得去倫敦和巴黎。如果搭火車，光坐到西岸就要花三天，加上回程再乘以兩倍；然後搭船來回橫渡大西洋得再耗掉十天，這起碼就得白白浪費十六天。那十六天你叫我幹嘛？盯著窗外、飽覽風光？ 放慢速度也不見得不好，可以幫你舒緩一些壓力。 壓力，我求之不得哩。我現在要是一鬆懈，肯定就會崩潰，碎裂成百片千片、往四面八方到處亂飛，一飛可就再也收不回來了。 或許我形容得太誇張，口氣聽起來既正經八百卻又瘋瘋癲癲，醫生聽得幾乎笑了或至少看起來像是努力憋著不笑出來。他說：喔，那我們可不能讓那種事發生，對吧？假如你決定要飛，那就飛吧。不過咱們先說好，一次只許朝一個方向飛。說完那句俏皮話，他從口袋抽出鋼筆，在本子上飛快寫了一串鬼畫符。然後撕下那一頁遞到我手上說：喏，這是你的贊安諾航空機票。 哪有這家航空公司？ 贊安諾是種強效又具高度危險的藥。季默先生，只要確實按照我的指示服用，你會瞬間變成僵屍活著卻絲毫沒有半點知覺、只剩一具空蕩蕩的軀殼。這玩意兒可以讓你飛遍五洲四海，而且我保證，你完全不會感覺自己身在空中。 隔天下午，我已置身加州。又過不到二十四小時，我正準備踏進太平洋電影檔案館放映室觀賞海特曼恩的另兩部影片。事後總結：十二部作品中以探戈狂潮最恣意狂野、最熱鬧繽紛；而美滿家庭則最謹小慎微。我花了兩個多星期對付那兩部片子，每天準十點整便赴館報到，即使碰到休館日（聖誕節與元旦），我照樣待在旅館房間埋頭工作：爬梳資料、整理筆記，為接下來的長途之旅做好準備。一九八六年一月七日，我再度服用辛醫生開的仙丹，從舊金山搭緊張症航班直飛六千哩到倫敦。那趟飛行必須比前一趟吞服更多藥，但我依然擔心藥效不夠。雖然明知應該乖乖遵照醫囑，但我實在害怕極了會在飛行途中醒來，於是臨登機前又多吞了一顆。結果差點就此長眠不起。護照上的海關印章證明我的確於一月八日入境英國，但我完全不記得飛機何時降落、何時著陸，整個通關過程也絲毫沒有半點印象，甚至想不起自己到底是怎麼住進旅館。一月九日早上我一睜開眼，發現自己躺在陌生的床上，從這兒接著開始，我才算又活了過來。這輩子頭一遭出現一段無跡可循的空白人生。 還剩下四部影片烙牛人與查無此人在倫敦，以及在巴黎的大字跳和妙手當家我深知該趟歐洲之行是觀賞這幾部影片的唯一機會。如有必要，美國境內的收藏單位我隨時都可再次造訪，但英倫電影學會與巴黎國家電影資料館恐怕就很難再有下一回。我費盡千辛萬苦才把自己弄到歐洲，心裡絲毫不敢偷抱再來一趟的希望。因此，我先前已決定停留在倫敦和巴黎的時間要比實際需要更長後來兩地加起來總共待了將近七個星期，蟄伏大半個冬天，不要命似地看片、做功課，簡直就像某種藏在地洞裡的瘋狂野獸。儘管一路以來我十分認真謹慎，但此時整個計畫來到另一個層次，我也進入另一個更加緊鑼密鼓、全神貫注到幾近著魔的狀態。表面上，我的目的是深入研究海特曼恩的電影，但骨子裡，我其實是在教導自己心無旁騖，專心在單一件事情上頭。我當時簡直過著偏執狂的日子，但那是避免自己分崩離析的唯一途徑。我於二月返回華盛頓，先在機場旅館睡了一覺，讓贊安諾藥效完全消退，然後，隔天一早頭一件事就是去長期停車區取車、再開到紐約。我暫時還不打算回佛蒙特。既然下定決心寫書，我得找個地方躲起來，綜觀全世界大小城市，看來看去就屬紐約最不會教我受不了。我先在曼哈頓尋找出租公寓，五天下來毫無斬獲。當時華爾街股市正狂飆到最高峰，還處於一九八七年大崩盤前夕的連續二十個月榮景中，租屋或轉租市場十分吃緊。最後，我索性開車過橋到對岸的布魯克林高地，二話不說火速租下仲介帶我參觀的頭一間，才剛貼上招租告示的皮耶邦街一房一廳公寓。儘管租金頗高、建材老舊，室內裝潢很糟，我還是相當慶幸能租下來。我去買了張床墊擺進其中一個房間，再買一套桌椅放在另一個房間，就那麼住了下來。租約為期一年，該年三月一日是租約起算日，也就在同一天，我動筆開始撰寫那本書。