嗅觉功能消失殆尽，气味不再触动记忆，成千上万过往的片段逐渐消失。烟雾的妖娆可以让我回想起你指尖的烟草味；香水瓶的分类会提醒我你喷洒了不同香水；咖啡的苦涩会代替它的独特香醇让我看到洋溢在你脸庞的表情。
失去味觉，终于可以让烈酒和白开水喝起来一种味道，我或许能灌入更多液体，更快自己变成在你面前酒醉的白痴；无法区分熟肉和生鱼片的口感会不会有理由跑遍全城的餐馆。
即便再也听不到这个世界的声音，还是能根据你的表情猜测你要吐露的文字；虽然无法再听到你的歌声却会把那些曲调保存在记忆的最深处；听不到雨点敲击玻璃的声音你一定会睡得更安心；当世上所有电影都成了默片，你会不会不再惊吓。
当黑暗来临我或许也不会惧怕，你总是在我的记忆里和梦里才会出现，我已习惯用这种方式来想念；手心的温度会告诉我你在身边；站在你前面时拂面的轻风会见证这一刻。
所有感官都可以失去，可回忆丢不掉甩不开，它们让你在我的海马回里分外深刻。这场疾病来得毫无征兆，而我会记得与你相关的所有。

更符合故事情节地说，爱与对彼此地依赖，在其他感觉逐次消逝地过程中，愈来愈浓，最后成为生命延续下去唯一依赖地感觉。

本来我从一开始就想着，想要fuck的感觉会不会最后也没啦？还好，一直都在，电影结束的时候也没提。。。

刚刚发布影评出现错误，于是浏览了一些之前的影评，发现很多观后感都很接近，就不多说了，不过有一句话又一次触动了我，这里稍加改动：
    生命是一场缓慢的死亡，希望能与最初的你同归于尽。

人类社会由人驱动，人由欲望驱动，欲望由感官驱动

当感官消失的时候，欲望就变得没有意义了，作为人也没有意义了，感官的沦陷，才是真正的末日


从创意的角度说，比之于最近拍的无数灾难片——那些用imax，3d，电脑特效，美女来驱动的那些世界末日，在这部描述感官沦陷的柔劲下完全丧失抵抗力。因为它无法挽救，它直接扑向人性的根源。

从发挥创意的角度来说，导演着实是将这块糖一点点含化了，淋漓尽致。
没有了英雄拯救世界，没有夸张的剧情和传奇色彩，只有一点点丧失感官的人。不需要反派，也不需要责备谁，当我们熟知的世界开始崩塌，当人一点点变为虽然活着，但却如同死了一样的木头，每一个人都是一样的，都只是像个溺水者，拼命抓着还能依靠的东西，榨干自己所仅存的感官所带给自己的感动。

导演更侧重于描写了那些“让生活继续下去”的人，这些人是大多数，他们也许麻木，但是他们能活下去，他们能继续发现活下去的方法。

很狡猾的设定，人们看上去积极，但事情在变得更糟

从无足轻重的嗅觉开始，味觉，听觉，最后……每一次，人们都是在痛苦之后，便欣然接受了，因为生活还要继续。丧失嗅觉和味觉不算什么，因为世界依然在那里，朋友，爱人也在那里，只是少了一些乐趣罢了，人们还是可以发现新的乐趣。但从丧失听觉开始，影片也变得无声了，人们开始真正地感到恐惧，作为观众，也能感同身受了，如果连视觉也丧失了，电影就不存在了，当然也是全片的终点，对于电影中的那个世界来说，世界还存在吗？

人们在最后的时刻，在视觉临近丧失的时候，终于学会了宽恕，宽恕身边的所有人，和好友相拥，因为人人都不想孤独地离开，宽恕别人是为了得到宽恕，靠近好友是为了能在最后关头仍保留一些感觉，我们看到了平和与情感上的升华，
但，但生活是为了什么？对于很多人来说生活就是满足自己的感官，正如同我们看电影一样，如果感官都丧失了，那人便是一块石头，人已经死了，死了固然平和，这是临终者的平和，这种所谓的升华与顿悟，是来自于绝望，这些人的确超越了人类的情感，但超越了这所有的感觉，也就意味着我心已死，这种顿悟，其实没什么可奢望的。

完美平和的世界，是没有纷争的世界，没有纷争源于没有欲望，没有欲望，源于没有感觉，没有感觉，正是所谓的完美感觉，我只想说，这是哪门子完美。如果这是我们追求的完美，那在片中，上帝实现了人们的祈祷，但其实这只是无间炼狱，所以，你懂得~

ps:片中的xx镜头果断是很多，我本以为导演会让这种感觉也没掉，看来导演还是仁慈了。。。。

There is darkness and there is light.
There are men and women.
There’s food.
There are restaurants.
Disease.
There’s work.
Traffic.
The days as we know them.
The world as we imagine the world.

-Well, you’ve been sick.
-Not sick, just unhappy.
-Well, it’s the same thing.

One day, son, you’ll be in love.
And you’ll be miserable.
That’s your karma.
Truly in love and miserable.

Overwhelmed with grief.
People are hit with all that they’ve lost.
Lovers they never had.
All the departed friend.
They think of all the people they’ve hurt.
First, overwhelmed with grief.
And then no sense of smell.
That’s the disease.

Life goes on.
The food becomes spicier, saltier, more sweet, more sour.
You get used to it.
The greater loss are all the memories that are no longer triggered.
Smell and memory were connected in the brain.
Cinnamon might have remained you of your grandmother’s apron.
The scent of cut hay could evoke a childhood fear of cows.
Diesel oil might bring back memories of your first ferry crossing.
Without smell, an ocean of past images disappears.

-What shall we do now?
-Well, now you could invite me back to your place.
-Don’t know if I will.
-Well, you…you can just start walking home, and I’ll follow you.

I can’t die alone.
That’s how it’ll end.
Without anybody loving me.

It betrays itself.
Your body, it takes away the color of your skin.
And betrays your spirit.
Pissing and bleeding and fucking puss is coming out of your ear.
I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it!
At the end, you’re all alone.
You die on your own and it gets all dark.
All your body, it turns to fucking soup.

First the terror.
And then a moment of hunger.

It’s still out there.
The world.

Slowly things return to normal and life goes on.
People do what they did before as best they can.
Within a few weeks, taste becomes a distant memory.
And different sensations take its place.
In restaurants, it’s all about offering another person dinner, letting yourself be waited on, listening to the trickle of wine and the clink of glassed.

Not only has the food received special attention, but also the temperature of the food and its consistency.
And we tried it all, from the freezing cold to the scorching hot.
It was dry, it was moist, it was crisp, it was spongy, it was crunchy and it was all at the highest level, up to and including the dessert- a light pudding with caramelized nuts and a bright orange sorbet, and a dark blue coulis on blackberries and blackcurrant.
Chew on that.
Life goes on.

My ovaries are crippled.
My eggs are no good.
Because of not eating.
I pretend that I’m not that into them, that I have an interesting job.

You could smell there was something wrong inside her, like something damp, something from a basement.
I make myself go and visit her grave.
I go there to feel guilty, you know?
I thought I would feel guilty for the rest of my life but, actually it’s starting to fade.

-You’re an arsehole.
-I am.
-It works. It works. You’re making me yours.
-I’m an arsehole.
-So am I.
-A couple of arseholes.
-Mr and Mrs arsehole.

“I think it’s OK to panic now.”
And that’s basically what the world does.
Rage.
Anger.
Hatred.
And then the loss of another sense.
All the unaffected can do is wait.

There are two movements now.
There are the people who run through the streets, grabbing all they can.
People who don’t believe in anything but the end of the world.
Then there’s the other movement- farmers going out to milk their cows, soldiers reporting for duty.
Those who believe that life will go on somehow, or just don’t know what else to do.
People prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.
They concentrate on the things that are important to them.
All the things beyond fat and flour.

The cold must have hit them like a blow from a club.
That’s how the darkness descends upon the world.
But first the shining moments.
A shared flinching of the brain’s temporal lobe.
A profound appreciation of what it means to be alive.
But most of all, a shared urge to reach out to one another.
To offer warmth, understanding, acceptance, forgiveness, love.
It’s dark now, but they feel each other’s breath, and they know all they need to know.
They kiss, and they feel each other’s tears on their cheeks.
And if there had been anybody left to see them, then they would look like normal lovers caressing each other’s faces, bodies close together, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around them.
Because that is how life goes on.
Like that.

《完美感觉》
你生过病么？我是指那种很严重的病，你站在眼光下，和别人一起站在阳光下，阳光打在你们的皮肤上，但是你知道你和他们都不同，你身上带着病毒或者别的什么恶疾，你站在阳光下，随时面对死亡。

影片中讲述了末日来临前，人类集体开始逐渐失去嗅觉、味觉、听觉，最后失去视觉，在这个悲伤压抑的过程里，却也让一对情侣相遇他们讲述自己的故事，做爱，吵架，分离，最后在失去听觉的那个清晨，他们在那个阳光异常透明的清晨，好像有预感似的奔向彼此，相拥在黑暗里，没有气味，没有声音，没有味道，没有眉目的模样，只有胸膛相依，脸颊相贴，眼泪的温度和心跳的震动。

我们会面对疾病，面对死亡，人事实上是向死而生的，只是这个过程被丢在近百年的时间长河里总是容易被遗忘。但是我们知道生活总是会继续，爱也是。