鬼庄园 The Haunting of Bly Manor-第01集

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• 来自网友【David Pledger】的评论She would sleep.She would wake.She would walk.And time went by, how much time, it was impossible to reason.Sleeping.Waking.Walking.Sleeping.Waking.Walking.And in time, as we all do, she admitted all. She admitted she was dead. She admitted her husband had moved on. She admitted her daughter was growing without her. And she admitted her room was a dream, a construct, a lie preferred, to the truth of the trunk.But there waited for her, at the end of this purgatory, a reward in the knowledge that one day, the door would open. One day, the locks would see their keys, and one day, Isabel would open her mother’s trunk and claim her reward. Both of their rewards.And day after day, night after night, an ocean of time, the moment finally came.When she beheld her husband, she saw not the changes wrought of time, only his sadness. Only that. And so, overwhelmed, she slept and waited.They buried Lady Perdita, and set about forging a new life. The business was empty, the manor was lost. If not in law, in spirit.They would move away from here, sell the manor and find a quieter life, a smaller one, made only for the two of them. The two of them, and also, Viola.At last, at least, she’d be with them both. Her husband, her daughter. No matter if they couldn’t see her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hear her. No matter. She’d be with them, and that was all that mattered.They were leaving Bly, leaving most of what remained of their belongings. Her reward for all these years of isolation, for all the ache in her tired heart.But Arthur had grown a superstitious man, and had seen the horror on Perdita’s lifeless face.His superstition defied reason, but he felt confident all the same. Whatever curse had claimed his second wife, he would not risk his daughter to its icy fingers. His daughter, nor anyone else.This final insult of being cast to the swampy depths, while her daughter would grow to womanhood. This absolute abandonment. It shattered Viola’s heart.The feeling of being pulled towards some other place, some realm beyond, had faded in the years since her death, but now she rejected it outright. With every ounce of her considerable will, as when she was sick, and against all probability, Viola would not go. The eldest of Willoughby’s daughters, once Lady Lloyd of Bly, remained, some would whisper, by stubbornness alone.The pull of that next world ignored, she instead made her own gravity, gravity of will, that would change the terrain of Bly Manor forever.And once again, she would sleep.She would wake.And she would walk.As if woken from a nightmare, she would walk back to her home, feeling each time that it was a dream. Feeling that if she walked to her bedroom, to the room she once shared with her husband, her infant daughter, that perhaps the nightmare would abate, that she could simply slip into the warmth of blankets and nestle herself to the bosom of her family, waiting for her all this time. And she’d stare at that empty bed, and Viola would remember. And the remembering itself was injury anew.Her heart would shatter anew, burning in her bosom, a searing ache that she hoped would be quenched by the cold, muddy waters of her new manor, her new home.Thus, she would sleep, and she would forget. Having forgotten, she would wake. She would walk. How many nights, how many walks, she could no longer count. Her attention lay only ahead, only on the bed that was her goal, and on the daughter she believed, each time she woke, would be waiting her there.She didn’t even realize that a decade had passed, not even realize, after an outbreak of plague in the village, that the empty manor had become a quarantine for the coughing death that ravaged her former community.“Where is she?”“What are you doing in here? It isn’t safe. You mustn’t be in this wing without protection...”“Where?”As the plague doctor died, so he was immediately forgotten, and a strange phenomenon occurred. Her gravity, it seemed, her invented gravity that held her to the grounds, that kept her in purgatory, it would hold others, too.She would sleep, and as happens when one dreams, she would forget. And having forgotten, she would wake. She would walk.Viola faintly noticed her own attempted exorcism. And alas, the poor vicar, the second person to find himself in Viola’s path.She would sleep, forget, and forget, and forget. And with the forgetting, an ailment altogether monstrous.All things fade. All things. Flesh, stone, even stars themselves. Time takes all things. It is the way of the world. The past recedes, memories fade, and so, true, does the spirit. Everything yields to time, even the soul.Wake, walk, forget even more. Her name, forgotten. Her sister’s name, forgotten. As her memories left her, so, too, her face.So little did she remember, that one night, she found a child in her daughter’s old bed, and could not remember who she had been hoping to see. She had only the faint notion that she’d walked this far hoping to find a child, and here was a child. It must be the child whom she’d sought. It must.She would sleep, and she would fade. And fade, and fade. And the others, too. Those souls held in her orbit, those unfortunates trapped in the gravity well she had made of Bly Manor. They were fading as well.The eldest of Willoughby’s daughters, once Lady Lloyd of Bly, now just a thought, just a feeling, not a woman at all, not a person at all, nor a name or face. Just need, need, and loneliness, and rage.Her fate was a nightmare. A fate that befell all trapped at Bly. A fate that befell Viola’s once sister, now forgotten in the attic. Unaware that she’d ever had a sister at all, to murder, or be murdered by. A fate that befell anyone unfortunate enough to step into her habitual path.“Stop! Stop!”A fate that befell a poor valet, so many years later. A fate that befell even those who died of other causes at Bly, who found themselves in the grips of Viola’s gravity, even if never in the grip of her icy hands. No hope for anyone with the sad misfortune to die on the grounds of Bly. No hope for the victims of Bly, be the victims of fate, of vice, or disease, or of each other.And no hope, it would seem, for the young au pair, who, having run afoul of so many of the dead, those unfortunate tenants of the gravity well, and who had finally stepped into the path of her own fate.
• 来自网友【Vic】的评论有人说“弹幕都在说难看”，“别看，快逃”…我并不这样觉得。有人说不恐怖。湖中女鬼我觉得造型还是有点吓人的。特别是第8集，妹妹去阁楼悄悄咪咪开箱子那场，试问以后半夜起床大家还敢把衣服举起看吗？有人说剧情过分割裂，影响观感。同样我不认同。做为单元剧，也许是因为前后不同导演的执导不同的集数，部分伏笔确实没有深挖，没有一气呵成的酣畅淋漓。但我认为这只是影响剧情高潮的体验。相反，从听一个故事的角度，在网飞上一口气看完九集，不香吗？而且，这部剧的台词写得像散文一样，当有声书听我都觉得好美…我随手一停，这句Where would we be, we wretched people, without generosity of our betters and luck... (虽然我看不懂，但读起来就是很舒服^^或者，She would walk,she would sleep,she would wake,she would walk,...这样循环起来是不是用would +动词原形表示过去经常做的动作也能理解了…（抱歉这里英语语法乱入了）