秋丰满月时

2023北影节的第二部电影，又一次见到了游牧民族对“离开“这个话题的表达，近年来电影凡是涉及到游牧民族以及原住民必然会讨论城市化对人的影响，故事无外乎年轻人离开原住址，年老的人化作苍鹰飞上蓝天，两方的思维冲突和变化来临时的大势所趋与无奈云云。本片则用一种温和又体贴的方式讲述“离开”的命题，把根与飘做进露水情缘的父子关系里，已经离开的青年人和留在了故土上的少年，而一开始就已经过世的年迈父亲，早早地将影片的命题推向了下一个节点。有意思的是，本片镜头对准的是两个被女性留下的孤独男魂，在广袤草原的月色下，为这两个人物染上了一身草原男性本该鲜少具备的温情。

一、人是天与地的链接：

本片中有许多低角度镜头，形式等同于现在抖音里网红教人像拍美的手法。不过在影片的语境下，画面中的人物则是链接天空与大地的梯子，人物挥杆割草，草越来越低，天空的面积就越来越大，对于男主来说，预示着他从失去父亲和得知恋人早有儿子的失落中逐渐豁然，在一个个重复的动作中，杂草是他的心绪，一点点抚平这份一直来不及好好关注和料理的情绪荒地，影片中后段得知他是一名厨师时，职业上的料理对上情绪上的料理，割草这种粗糙的操作却映衬出了人物情感上的细腻。

影片中不仅将人作为分割线，组成画面中的链接。情节上安排男主去盖山顶上的木塔也是在做链接的比喻。首先是照应了影片开头，男孩站在马背上挑起长杆打电话寻信号，求的是一个与外界的沟通，其次男主从城里来，作为一个城市人本身具备着科技和发展的属性，他来带头建设草原部落山坡上的“电塔”，再一次给小男孩希望，完成男孩对外沟通的内心需求。最后，也为那两个游手好闲一直让小男孩操心的，仿佛法国喜剧电影里才有的笨蛋组合式的两个成年人物，留下了一份赚钱的工作，又一次解决了小男孩本身的困境。

二、父子关系的第二种影像可能性：

以往的影片中我们经常看到男人和他固执的父亲，彼此冲突，难以表达情感，最终一人离去，留下一个孤独的男人独自惆怅并且完成一个沉默男人的成长。而本片则非常快速地结束了上述传统的父子影像关系，转而去塑造失去传统形象的父亲和父子关系的男性是如何遇见一个男孩后，重塑自己的父子关系。虽然男人与男孩的相遇具备冲突，但他们的和解却是快速的，男孩子的主动示好，瞬间化解掉了男人的固执，虽然有些找不到示好的理由，但是后面的情感发展很是顺理成章，也便无需在此纠结。

男孩生气，男人主动去说话寻求谅解，男孩自以为成长为一个成熟的大人了，走过玩具摊位还是会停住多看几眼，这些细节被男人捕捉并且满足了男孩的心愿，这个一早被男孩称之为“城里人”的男人仿佛魔法教母一样，随时一挥仙女棒，就可以看清男孩的需求，满足他。每一次这种男性主动面对情感，主动上前交流的场景，都极其具备现代理解，对于一个纯粹的每逢节日只管摔跤平日牧羊牧马的草原人来说，都是有违传统非同一般的性格，无声之中强化了“都市气”，不是草原上的传统男人。也正是这个男人的不一般，才能给到一个嘴上教训大人，很有领导风范忍着情绪佯装懂事的小男孩，一个情绪的出口。

当两人骑马去参加儿童摔跤大会的路上，一群候鸟站在美丽的湖泊边，男人问能过去吗，男孩说你会惊扰它们，但当男孩在识字问题上漏怯时，策马扬鞭跑过湖泊，惊起候鸟。这一段情绪的张力，使得人物关系进行了一次释放，走的太近会惊扰，离得远了刚刚好，但人是有眷恋的，是有理想有梦的，所以小男孩幻想可以留下这个男人充当自己的父亲，以此获得爱意，而男人无法留下承诺，只能远远地给这个男孩平静。

父子关系在牧羊、牧马之间完成了两次塑造，与自然之间达成关系性，谁也无法掌控谁，而是相互依偎，寻求寂寞中的一团热切。对现实父子关系的一种内心补偿，亦或者是一个理想化的父子，男孩追求着理想化的父亲，男人也回应了这份祈求，把自己塑造成了理想的模样。

本片尾声，男孩看到收割机快速地割完干草，心中的失落化成愤怒，他像男主鞭打羊群一样鞭打两个成年人，他刚刚得到的宁静和快乐，在一团团干草垛面前失去了依靠，他再次成为镜头里孤独的一个小小身影，他知道时日已到，不想做完的梦还是醒了。男人离去，男孩逃避，最后相拥哭泣，两个人物最终又回归到了“离去”的命题里，谁也找不到心里的一隅平静，只不过这一次的离开，不再是郁郁寡欢和自我折磨，陪伴的美好在两个人的拥抱和泪水中凝固，留下一个长长的黑屏给观众们处理自己的情绪，“离开”从银幕里的讨论走进了观众的心里，观众此刻也要离开影院，可内心却还未离去。

这种人与场的顺畅结合，是我对本部影片高评价的主要原因之一，这部电影虽然语法朴实，结构普通，但导演的表达和情感场的塑造都具备魅力，很难不为人物之间建立起的依偎动情，这一场电影下来，我依旧记得两个人骑马的模样，谁也阻挡不了离去，所以才要好好对待当下，对待还在的时刻。

One of the high-profile actors from Mongolia, Amarsaikhan Baljinnyam is mostly known for his tough-guy roles in the Trapped Abroad action flicks and Netflix's Marco Polo, where he plays Kublai Khan's brother Ariq Böke. This time, the audience gets to see the everyday man in him in his directorial debut, Harvest Moon, where he plays Tulgaa, a mild-mannered chef in Ulaanbaatar who is facing a dilemma in his life.

When the news of his stepfather's falling ill reaches him, Tulgaa returns to the countryside to fulfill his filial duties and agrees to finish the hay harvesting his old man promised to do. There he meets Tuntuulei (Tenuun-Erdene Garamkhand), a cocky ten-year-old who lives with his grandparents while his single mother works in the city.

There is certainly more to Tuntuulei than meets the eye. "A weak man stumbles on a blunt scythe," he mockingly says upon seeing Tulgaa's blistered hand. Besides having a full inventory of literary zingers, the preteen hero rolls his grandfather's cigarettes with dexterity and regularly curses with nonchalance, albeit often not fully understanding what he says. In some respects, the boy has matured beyond his years in the absence of his parents.

Adapted from Bum-Erdene Tumenbayar's short story, the movie is essentially a two-hander, a tale of a man and a child bonding, with all other characters in the background. Desiring a break from home life with his grandparents, Tuntuulei starts palling around with Tulgaa at every opportunity and the two develop a nurturing relationship.

Amarsaikhan brings a quotidian demeanor to his performance, differentiating Tulgaa from the usual curmudgeon trope in this genre while proving himself to be a versatile actor. With already a dozen credits under his belt, Tenuun-Erdene earns admiration for his convincing portrayal of a sharp-tongued countryside kid.

Perhaps thanks to the director's acting experience, the cast as a whole puts in a natural performance without awkward, dramatic delivery of lines -- a rather unfortunate and common problem in many Mongolian productions, most recently evinced in the Best Feature winner at this year's New York Asian Film Festival, Janchivdorj Sengedorj's The Sales Girl.

Neither Tulgaa nor Tuntuulei ever met his biological father and the two are drawn to each other, given their shared emotional wound. The story starts on this familiar path and moves quite predictably towards a heart-tugging destination that one can guess ten minutes into the film once the tone is set.

But sometimes it is more about the execution than the freshness of the story. Amarsaikhan handles the material with grace and charm. The script could easily have been reworked into a full-on mistaken-identity comedy, especially given that many of the supporting actors are actually comedians, but the director lends a more matter-of-fact quality to the project while inserting a few humorous moments. "Who needs this garbage? I'm not a kid," Tuntuulei scoffs when Tulgaa asks him if he wants to buy a toy in one scene, which then immediately cuts to Tuntuulei singing along to "If You're Happy And You Know It," immersed in a children's puppet theater.

The actor-producer-turned-director keeps the story emotional while avoiding veering off to schmaltz. Some beautiful dialogue inevitably gets lost in translation and a few parts of the English subtitles are outright inaccurate, containing sentences that are not spoken and thus altering characterization (take Tuntuulei's phone call with his mother, for example). The film has virtually no nondiegetic sound and its communicative, telling silences help set a light tone. Bayarsaikhan Batsukh's well-paced editing also helps reduce sentimental excess in the 90-minute running time.

Although an early indoor scene could have benefited from better lighting to not let the unstable shadow distract attention, the camerawork on the whole remains competent to drive the story forward. The cinematography is by Josua Fischer, who worked on the 2019 mediocre action flick The Mongolian Connection, also starring Amarsaikhan, and offers in fits and starts a hauntingly beautiful view of the eastern Mongolian countryside.

The later painterly shots of the hayfield remind one of Mongolian painter Odon Geleg's masterpiece, "After Work," but Fischer knows better than to exhibit long shots of idyllic landscapes in succession. In fact, the film proves quite successful in its authentic depiction of life on the Mongolian steppe and does not resort to self-exoticism and cinematic cultural tourism -- a judgment that might not be shared by everyone in one scene with dancing and singing around a bonfire.

Impressively polished by first-feature standards, Amarsaikhan's exploration of (step)fatherhood in Harvest Moon is undeniably simple but achingly tender, which might well prove to be a winning combination at Vancouver.

The film enjoys its world premiere in the Vanguard Section at the 41st edition of the Vancouver International Film Festival.

Originally published on Screen Anarchy.

电影本身其实是很质朴，甚至是平铺直叙的，夹杂着草原、蒙古包、蒙古马、河流、山川这些常规元素，又安插了篝火、那达慕（可能是）这样的特色元素。草原上很难有信号，在草原和在城市的家人很难通过一部电话进行问候，男主角用自己很忙来搪塞继父，而小男孩的母亲则用很忙来搪塞他；本来就没有信号很难拨出去的电话也没有系住双方的感情。

爱在满格时是香港这边的译名，可是当手机信号满格时，男主角打不通爱人的电话，小男孩也无法与母亲进行一个简单的问候，这里有爱吗？我想可能是单向的爱，不管身处城市还是草原，不管你是需要还是被需要的，爱总不是双向的。爱在满格时，表面上看当手机信号满格，你就能拨通思念之人的电话，向其诉说你的爱意，但总是会有阴差阳错，使爱意不能即时双向地给予反馈。harvest moon，秋天对草原来说是一个悲凉的季节，割草、准备转场，家人孩子帮忙后即要分别，所以也可以说秋天本就寓意着离别，自古逢秋悲寂寥可能也是如此；当男主角割完草就要回到城里，割草机的出现加快了其进程，分别也突然提上了日程，小男孩与男主的缘分也意味着结束，就像梦醒时分，终究会回到现实。

近些年的蒙古电影大多都是围绕离开和归来两个主题，抹不掉的是家人和故土的羁绊，向往的却又是现代化的生活，其实还是有些模板化了，但这些又是现实中正在发生的，又避免不了。总而言之，还是一部较为质朴、真实的电影，就像片名的原意，相遇即为缘分，秋日不复返，记忆永留存。