万世魔星

This movie was of great fun, and I can't help laughing from the beginning of it to the end. To watch this movie, it's better for one to learn some Christian or at least to read the fist chapters of the Holy Bible in advance before enjoying it. Of course, better not to watch it if you are a devout religious guy. There are full of black humours inside. The story of Jesus Christ's birth was totally rewritten in the tone of black humour: there was nothing saint, a fellow named Brian who was born as Jesus and he was the only regular guy in the movie and thus was taken as Messiah; superstitious public who believe they need a god to rescue them but they don't know why they need to rebel Roman's rule; bureaucratic Jewish officials who did care nothing but their copious democratic procedures; stupid stutter Roman officials, etc. Actually, this is really a mirror of our modern society.

信仰的本质无外乎是逃避自己做决定的责任。

‘Life of Brian’的智慧更在于消解和揭示，而非建构和规劝。

原来每一个人一开始都是耶稣基督，我们说的话，就像小混混Brian，他为了驱赶信众所说的“永远不要追随别人，不要相信别人告诉你们的，你们是特别的一个人你们自己”，只要我们相信，我们的话就是神喻，我喜欢有人说的那句，“生命本没有/也不需要超越于其自身意义的意义”，任何附加的意义都是荒谬的，就像我们对耶稣的解释那么荒谬。

Rōmānī ite domum.

Romans, go home.

Rōmānī: masculine noun, vocative plural for rōmānus, rōmānī

ite: (3rd conjugation) verb, imperative, 3rd person plural for eō, īre, iī/ivi, itum

domum: feminine noun, accusative singular for domus, domī

"He's making it up as he goes along!" That might be the funniest and most trenchant line in "Monty Python's Life of Brian," the 1979 comic classic that is being rereleased this summer as a sort of satiric antidote to the sanctimony that has taken over screen religion in recent months. The scene takes place in A.D. 33, when a Judean citizen named Brian Cohen (Graham Chapman) finds himself taken for the Messiah. The more he demurs -- he actually pretended to be a prophet while trying to escape from the Roman guards who were chasing him -- the more his protestations sound to his followers like divine pronouncements. As one disciple says, the surest sign that someone is a Messiah is that he denies being the Messiah. Such are the tautologies, inconsistencies and self-fulfilling prophecies of organized religion that the Pythons poke fun at in "Life of Brian," which in the years since its original release in 1979 has retained nearly every bit of its cheeky good humor. From the opening sequence, in which Brian is born in a manger next door to Joseph and Mary's, to the classic closing musical number of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life," sung by a chorus of crucified criminals, "Life of Brian" leaves no piety unscathed. And it's the apotheosis of Pythonesque humor, an absurdist grab bag of the non sequiturs, puns and bawdy Britishisms that endeared the comedy troupe to the generation of Americans who came of age during the run of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" on TV in the 1970s. If a few of the jokes are dated -- who can laugh wholeheartedly at any line involving terrorists these days? -- the movie still holds up beautifully, as both pointed satire and silly, stakes-free comedy. The memorable set pieces still work, from the crowd scene at Jesus's Sermon on the Mount ("Did he say, 'Blessed are thecheesemakers?' ") to the hilariously interminable sequence during which Michael Palin's Pontius Pilate invokes over and over again a friend back in Rome whose Latin name is a sophomorically funny double-entendre. (You won't watch "Gladiator" again anytime soon without cracking up at Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix's somber Latinate intonations.) The Pythons may have been brilliant, but they weren't above the broadest humor available, including giving speech impediments to Pilate and his friend; viewers are advised to go ahead and laugh -- there will be plenty of time to hate themselves in the morning. It's easy to forget that, as much fun as the Pythons have at religion's expense, "Life of Brian" was just as much a sendup of lefty sectarian politics. For the first half of the movie, the title character is a member of an anti-imperialist political cell that is determined to rout the Romans out of Judea. With their spot-on depictions of the movement's endless meetings, earnest self-seriousness and rhetorical excess, it's clear that the Pythons were impaling political correctness long before the term made its way into the public vernacular. John Cleese, who like his fellow cast members takes on multiple roles in "Life of Brian," is particularly effective as Reg, the hypocritical tyrant who leads the People's Front of Judea, a splinter group of the Judean People's Front. Whether he's playing an ancient version of a Weatherman or a Roman guard who forces Brian to correct his Latin while painting "Romans Go Home!" on a garrison wall, Cleese nearly steals the show in "Life of Brian," as does Terry Jones as Mandy, Brian's mother ("Now you listen here," Jones screams in his familiar falsetto when her son's followers show up at her home, "he'snotthe Messiah, he's avery naughty boy."). Chapman is suitably bland as the naif who becomes the repository of his disciples' most profound projections and anxieties. And it's in these sequences that "Life of Brian" isn't just ridiculous but sublime. Given "Brian's" combination of secular humanist whimsy and surprising theological wisdom, it's hard to believe that it was such a controversial film when it first came out. (It was banned in Norway, Ireland and parts of England for blasphemy; in America, Jewish, Catholic and Protestant leaders all denounced it.) Of course, given the current heightened tenor of religious rhetoric and paranoia, it may well wind up pushing brand-new buttons today. To quote Michael Palin quoting Jesus, "There's just no pleasing some people."