擰緊電影劇情結局

① 電影擰緊結局什麼意思

電影狩獵結局什麼意思？
最後其實是點題之筆，·電影名字叫《狩獵》，這電影通篇講的是主人公因小孩的一句無心之語而被人誤會的事，這裡面，主人公就是一個獵物，而鎮上的人就是獵人，獵人是不會考慮獵物的想法的，只有獵物自己才知道自己
的處境是多麼的危險。

② 《擰緊》百度雲高清資源在線觀看，弗洛莉婭·塞吉斯蒙迪導演的

鏈接: https://pan..com/s/10bPWjWz1Zkx7s-oapCt70A

提取碼: waqd
《擰緊 The Turning》
導演: 弗洛莉婭·塞吉斯蒙迪
編劇: 凱利·海斯、查德·海斯、亨利·詹姆斯
主演: 麥肯茲·戴維斯、菲恩·伍法德、布魯克琳·普林斯、芭芭拉·馬滕、喬莉·理查德森、尼爾·格雷格·富爾頓、丹尼·湯姆森、金·阿迪斯、卡倫·伊根、馬克·休伯曼
類型: 劇情、恐怖
製片國家/地區: 英國、愛爾蘭、加拿大、美國
語言: 英語
上映日期: 2020-01-24(美國)
片長: 94分鍾
又名: 凶宅疑童(港)、豪門怨靈(台)、螺絲在擰緊、碧廬冤孽、轉向
改編自亨利·詹姆斯小說《螺絲在擰緊》（The Turn of the Screw），一位男子僱用了一名年輕女家庭教師，來照顧一對驟失雙親的侄兒和侄女，而她發現孤兒的家鬧鬼。

③ 求一部喜劇電影名：女主角偷梁換柱賣100萬的贗品畫後被追殺，殺手最後反而幫助女主角逃難

給你找半天，是這部，今年新出的英國喜劇。

狂野目標 Wild Target (2010)7.8
這個殺手好怕丑
導演：喬納森·林恩 主演：比爾·奈伊 艾米莉·布朗特 魯伯特·格林特 ...
維克多·梅納德（比爾·奈伊飾）是一名正經歷中年危機的即將退休的頂尖職業殺手，他人過中年卻一直孑然一身，過著單調刻板的生活，從未品嘗過愛情的滋味。而他那位專橫霸道的老媽（艾琳·阿特金斯飾）一直逼迫他找個女人傳宗接代，好「傳承家族血液中的殺手基...

④ 為什麼在螺絲在擰緊中,女家庭教師沒有名字

因為整個故事是以「我」的第一人稱敘述的，沒有名字可以更好的讓觀眾代入自己。
本書展開方式是一個套在故事中的故事，基本百分之九十的內容都是一名家庭女教師的心理活動，不像其他的恐怖小說著重於描寫環境來營造恐怖氣氛，Henry通過大量對心理的描寫及有張力的對話來渲染恐怖氛圍，讓人佩服。由於作者含糊的描寫和劇情設定，本書有多種解讀和爭議，爭議比較大的就是一種認為真的有鬼魂存在，女教師說的全是真話；一種是沒有鬼魂存在，全部都是女教師的臆想。我稍微梳理一下故事情節：
女主受聘於一位英俊有錢的上流社會的紳士，紳士讓她去一個偏遠的庄園給他的侄子侄女擔任家庭女教師，女教師在去的路上充滿了擔心，到了之後發現工資待遇很高、地位也很高，而且當她看到小女孩Flora時一切顧慮都打消了，她長得像天使一樣美麗純潔。
因為Flora的緣故女教師非常期待著看見小男孩Miles，想像著他會和Flora一樣如何的美好，但是卻等來了一封學校開除他的信，由此種下了疑惑的種子，女教師問過僕人Grose女士是否小男孩平時行事不端才會被學校開除，Grose非常肯定的否定了她，一直到本書結尾小男孩具體因為什麼被開除都沒有講出來，這是一個縈繞全書、影響女教師心理變化很重要的事情。
之後女教師見到了Miles，看見他機靈可愛，完全不理解他為什麼會被學校開除。她被這兩個孩子深深的吸引，美妙的日子是被她偶然看見的「人影」打破的，後來女教師堅持認為是鬼魂，經和Grose太太討論認為是庄園以前紳士的男僕Quint和之前的女教師Jessel。這二人都是意外死亡，Quint是醉酒車禍死的，Jessel是離開庄園後死的，女教師認為兩個鬼魂之所以出現是不懷好意的，Quint想帶走Miles，Jessel想帶走Flora，為了兩個孩子她變得非常勇敢開始和鬼魂作斗爭。
但是奇怪的是，能看到這兩個鬼魂的似乎從始至終只有女教師一個人，所有關於鬼魂的猜測都只存在於她的心理活動里，她與Grose太太討論的時候Grose也是半信半疑的附和她，不支持她說一定是鬼魂也不否定她一定不是，之後兩個孩子頻繁詭異的活動讓女主更加堅信兩個孩子是受到了鬼魂的蠱惑和引誘，導致他們聯合起來欺騙捉弄她，她已經不再喜歡兩個孩子天使的臉龐，認為他們兩個是演給她看的，其實內心早已經邪惡被腐化。
故事的轉折點發生在Flora走失的一天，女教師和Grose在湖邊找到她，女教師看到了湖對岸的正在燃燒的Jessel鬼魂，然而Grose和Flora沒有看到，女教師的癲狂舉動嚇到了Flora，她再也不想看到女教師了。女教師讓Grose帶走了Flora，留下Miles和她在房子里，她要留下來和鬼魂戰斗。Miles說出了他被開除的原因是他對他喜歡的人們講了一些話，這些話被傳到老師那裡去所以被開除了，但是不知道說了什麼。最後她看到Quint要來帶走Miles，她緊緊擁抱住男孩，卻發現男孩死在她懷中。

⑤ 螺絲在擰緊電影英文觀後感

The most daring thing about this adaptation of Henry James' classic tale is the way that stunning newcomer Jodhi May plays the ghost haunted governess as a living, breathing girl with flaws rather than a lifeless model of prim perfection. Deborah Kerr's interpretation was so cool and crisp that there was never any doubt that the governess would overcome the evil ghosts (and save the rotten children who serve them) through sheer icy self-control, pure virginity and stubborn virtue.

Jodhi May's performance shows more psychological depth, depicting a governess who is menaced not only by the ghosts themselves but by her own voluptuous desires. Temptation surrounds the governess in this version, not only in the attentions of her devastatingly handsome employer (a stunning and very youthful Colin Firth) but also in the very comforts and luxuries of her position on the secluded estate.

Watch the way she succumbs to the charms of Miles' piano playing in the film's climactic scene, not only losing track of the time but falling little by little into a deep, drugged sleep. The two children are both shown as being more alert, more aware, than the lovely governess, whose nights have been quite sleepless owing to both ghostly terrors and erotic dreams of her employer. During the piano scene, Jodhi May's shifting expression is worth watching closely, as her bewitching gray eyes sink from stern watchfulness to drooping weariness, an unwilling surrender every bit as haunted and erotic as her dreams. Note how the camera very knowingly cuts back and forth from the heavy eyes of the governess to the light fingers of Miles at the piano, his skill meant to suggest the feather-soft touch of a lover. There can be little doubt that this image suggests a woman who bears her crystal pure virginity not as a shining shield but as an exhausting burden. She wants to have her employer's hands touching her lightly and knowingly, drawing forth her full desires the way Miles draws exquisite melody from the piano. Her deep sleep leaves her at the mercy of the children, but it results from the alt strain of holding her own sensual desires at bay. What a rich, haunting story, and what an authentic, womanly performance from the beautiful Jodhi May!

⑥ 跪求擰緊2020年上映的由麥肯茲·戴維斯主演的百度雲資源

《擰緊TheTurning》網路網盤高清資源免費在線觀看

鏈接: https://pan..com/s/1PzVLfzyxLQp3VcxbBFXsOA

提取碼: 19cj

《螺絲在擰緊》（TheTurnoftheScrew），一位男子僱用了一名年輕女家庭教師，來照顧一對驟失雙親的侄兒和侄女，而她發現孤兒的家鬧鬼。

⑦ 《THE TURN OF THE SCREW》螺絲在擰緊

The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only case he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child. The case, I may mention, was that of an apparition in just such an old house as had gathered us for the occasion—an appearance, of a dreadful kind, to a little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the terror of it; waking her not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to sleep again, but to encounter also, herself, before she had succeeded in doing so, the same sight that had shaken him. It was this observation that drew from Douglas—not immediately, but later in the evening—a reply that had the interesting consequence to which I call attention. Someone else told a story not particularly effective, which I saw he was not following. This I took for a sign that he had himself something to proce and that we should only have to wait. We waited in fact till two nights later; but that same evening, before we scattered, he brought out what was in his mind.

"I quite agree—in regard to Griffin's ghost, or whatever it was—that its appearing first to the little boy, at so tender an age, adds a particular touch. But it's not the first occurrence of its charming kind that I know to have involved a child. If the child gives the effect another turn of the screw, what do you say to TWO children—?"

"We say, of course," somebody exclaimed, "that they give two turns! Also that we want to hear about them."

I can see Douglas there before the fire, to which he had got up to present his back, looking down at his interlocutor with his hands in his pockets. "Nobody but me, till now, has ever heard. It's quite too horrible." This, naturally, was declared by several voices to give the thing the utmost price, and our friend, with quiet art, prepared his triumph by turning his eyes over the rest of us and going on: "It's beyond everything. Nothing at all that I know touches it."

"For sheer terror?" I remember asking.

He seemed to say it was not so simple as that; to be really at a loss how to qualify it. He passed his hand over his eyes, made a little wincing grimace. "For dreadful—dreadfulness!"

"Oh, how delicious!" cried one of the women.

He took no notice of her; he looked at me, but as if, instead of me, he saw what he spoke of. "For general uncanny ugliness and horror and pain."

"Well then," I said, "just sit right down and begin."

He turned round to the fire, gave a kick to a log, watched it an instant. Then as he faced us again: "I can't begin. I shall have to send to town." There was a unanimous groan at this, and much reproach; after which, in his preoccupied way, he explained. "The story's written. It's in a locked drawer—it has not been out for years. I could write to my man and enclose the key; he could send down the packet as he finds it." It was to me in particular that he appeared to propound this—appeared almost to appeal for aid not to hesitate. He had broken a thickness of ice, the formation of many a winter; had had his reasons for a long silence. The others resented postponement, but it was just his scruples that charmed me. I adjured him to write by the first post and to agree with us for an early hearing; then I asked him if the experience in question had been his own. To this his answer was prompt. "Oh, thank God, no!"

"And is the record yours? You took the thing down?"

"Nothing but the impression. I took that HERE"—he tapped his heart. "I've never lost it."

"Then your manuscript—?"

"Is in old, faded ink, and in the most beautiful hand." He hung fire again. "A woman's. She has been dead these twenty years. She sent me the pages in question before she died." They were all listening now, and of course there was somebody to be arch, or at any rate to draw the inference. But if he put the inference by without a smile it was also without irritation. "She was a most charming person, but she was ten years older than I. She was my sister's governess," he quietly said. "She was the most agreeable woman I've ever known in her position; she would have been worthy of any whatever. It was long ago, and this episode was long before. I was at Trinity, and I found her at home on my coming down the second summer. I was much there that year—it was a beautiful one; and we had, in her off-hours, some strolls and talks in the garden—talks in which she struck me as awfully clever and nice. Oh yes; don't grin: I liked her extremely and am glad to this day to think she liked me, too. If she hadn't she wouldn't have told me. She had never told anyone. It wasn't simply that she said so, but that I knew she hadn't. I was sure; I could see. You'll easily judge why when you hear."

"Because the thing had been such a scare?"

He continued to fix me. "You'll easily judge," he repeated: "YOU will."

I fixed him, too. "I see. She was in love."

He laughed for the first time. "You ARE acute. Yes, she was in love. That is, she had been. That came out—she couldn't tell her story without its coming out. I saw it, and she saw I saw it; but neither of us spoke of it. I remember the time and the place—the corner of the lawn, the shade of the great beeches and the long, hot summer afternoon. It wasn't a scene for a shudder; but oh—!" He quitted the fire and dropped back into his chair.

"You'll receive the packet Thursday morning?" I inquired.

"Probably not till the second post."

"Well then; after dinner—"

"You'll all meet me here?" He looked us round again. "Isn't anybody going?" It was almost the tone of hope.

"Everybody will stay!"

"_I_ will"—and "_I_ will!" cried the ladies whose departure had been fixed. Mrs. Griffin, however, expressed the need for a little more light. "Who was it she was in love with?"

"The story will tell," I took upon myself to reply.

"Oh, I can't wait for the story!"

"The story WON'T tell," said Douglas; "not in any literal, vulgar way."

"More's the pity, then. That's the only way I ever understand."

"Won't YOU tell, Douglas?" somebody else inquired.

He sprang to his feet again. "Yes—tomorrow. Now I must go to bed. Good night." And quickly catching up a candlestick, he left us slightly bewildered. From our end of the great brown hall we heard his step on the stair; whereupon Mrs. Griffin spoke. "Well, if I don't know who she was in love with, I know who HE was."

"She was ten years older," said her husband.

"Raison de plus—at that age! But it's rather nice, his long reticence."

"Forty years!" Griffin put in.

"With this outbreak at last."

"The outbreak," I returned, "will make a tremendous occasion of Thursday night;" and everyone so agreed with me that, in the light of it, we lost all attention for everything else. The last story, however incomplete and like the mere opening of a serial, had been told; we handshook and "candlestuck," as somebody said, and went to bed.

I knew the next day that a letter containing the key had, by the first post, gone off to his London apartments; but in spite of—or perhaps just on account of—the eventual diffusion of this knowledge we quite let him alone till after dinner, till such an hour of the evening, in fact, as might best accord with the kind of emotion on which our hopes were fixed. Then he became as communicative as we could desire and indeed gave us his best reason for being so. We had it from him again before the fire in the hall, as we had had our mild wonders of the previous night. It appeared that the narrative he had promised to read us really required for a proper intelligence a few words of prologue. Let me say here distinctly, to have done with it, that this narrative, from an exact transcript of my own made much later, is what I shall presently give. Poor Douglas, before his death—when it was in sight—committed to me the manuscript that reached him on the third of these days and that, on the same spot, with immense effect, he began to read to our hushed little circle on the night of the fourth. The departing ladies who had said they would stay didn't, of course, thank heaven, stay: they departed, in consequence of arrangements made, in a rage of curiosity, as they professed, proced by the touches with which he had already worked us up. But that only made his little final auditory more compact and select, kept it, round the hearth, subject to a common thrill.

The first of these touches conveyed that the written statement took up the tale at a point after it had, in a manner, begun. The fact to be in possession of was therefore that his old friend, the youngest of several daughters of a poor country parson, had, at the age of twenty, on taking service for the first time in the schoolroom, come up to London, in trepidation, to answer in person an advertisement that had already placed her in brief correspondence with the advertiser. This person proved, on her presenting herself, for judgment, at a house in Harley Street, that impressed her as vast and imposing—this prospective patron proved a gentleman, a bachelor in the prime of life, such a figure as had never risen, save in a dream or an old novel, before a fluttered, anxious girl out of a Hampshire vicarage. One could easily fix his type; it never, happily, dies out. He was handsome and bold and pleasant, offhand and gay and kind. He struck her, inevitably, as gallant and splendid, but what took her most of all and gave her the courage she afterward showed was that he put the whole thing to her as a kind of favor, an obligation he should gratefully incur. She conceived him as rich, but as fearfully extravagant—saw him all in a glow of high fashion, of good looks, of expensive habits, of charming ways with women. He had for his own town residence a big house filled with the spoils of travel and the trophies of the chase; but it was to his country home, an old family place in Essex, that he wished her immediately to proceed.

He had been left, by the death of their parents in India, guardian to a small nephew and a small niece, children of a younger, a military brother, whom he had lost two years before. These children were, by the strangest of chances for a man in his position—a lone man without the right sort of experience or a grain of patience—very heavily on his hands. It had all been a great worry and, on his own part doubtless, a series of blunders, but he immensely pitied the poor chicks and had done all he could; had in particular sent them down to his other house, the proper place for them being of course the country, and kept them there, from the first, with the best people he could find to look after them, parting even with his own servants to wait on them and going down himself, whenever he might, to see how they were doing. The awkward thing was that they had practically no other relations and that his own affairs took up all his time. He had put them in possession of Bly, which was healthy and secure, and had placed at the head of their little establishment—but below stairs only—an excellent woman, Mrs. Grose, whom he was sure his visitor would like and who had formerly been maid to his mother. She was now housekeeper and was also acting for the time as superintendent to the little girl, of whom, without children of her own, she was, by good luck, extremely fond. There were plenty of people to help, but of course the young lady who should go down as governess would be in supreme authority. She would also have, in holidays, to look after the small boy, who had been for a term at school—young as he was to be sent, but what else could be done?—and who, as the holidays were about to begin, would be back from one day to the other. There had been for the two children at first a young lady whom they had had the misfortune to lose. She had done for them quite beautifully—she was a most respectable person—till her death, the great awkwardness of which had, precisely, left no alternative but the school for little Miles. Mrs. Grose, since then, in the way of manners and things, had done as she could for Flora; and there were, further, a cook, a housemaid, a dairywoman, an old pony, an old groom, and an old gardener, all likewise thoroughly respectable.

So far had Douglas presented his picture when someone put a question. "And what did the former governess die of?—of so much respectability?"

Our friend's answer was prompt. "That will come out. I don't anticipate."

"Excuse me—I thought that was just what you ARE doing."

"In her successor's place," I suggested, "I should have wished to learn if the office brought with it—"

"Necessary danger to life?" Douglas completed my thought. "She did wish to learn, and she did learn. You shall hear tomorrow what she learned. Meanwhile, of course, the prospect struck her as slightly grim. She was young, untried, nervous: it was a vision of serious ties and little company, of really great loneliness. She hesitated—took a couple of days to consult and consider. But the salary offered much exceeded her modest measure, and on a second interview she faced the music, she engaged." And Douglas, with this, made a pause that, for the benefit of the company, moved me to throw in—

"The moral of which was of course the section exercised by the splendid young man. She succumbed to it."

He got up and, as he had done the night before, went to the fire, gave a stir to a log with his foot, then stood a moment with his back to us. "She saw him only twice."

"Yes, but that's just the beauty of her passion."

A little to my surprise, on this, Douglas turned round to me. "It WAS the beauty of it. There were others," he went on, "who hadn't succumbed. He told her frankly all his difficulty—that for several applicants the conditions had been prohibitive. They were, somehow, simply afraid. It sounded ll—it sounded strange; and all the more so because of his main condition."

"Which was—?"

"That she should never trouble him—but never, never: neither appeal nor complain nor write about anything; only meet all questions herself, receive all moneys from his solicitor, take the whole thing over and let him alone. She promised to do this, and she mentioned to me that when, for a moment, disburdened, delighted, he held her hand, thanking her for the sacrifice, she already felt rewarded."

"But was that all her reward?" one of the ladies asked.

"She never saw him again."

"Oh!" said the lady; which, as our friend immediately left us again, was the only other word of importance contributed to the subject till, the next night, by the corner of the hearth, in the best chair, he opened the faded red cover of a thin old-fashioned gilt-edged album. The whole thing took indeed more nights than one, but on the first occasion the same lady put another question. "What is your title?"

"I haven't one."

"Oh, _I_ have!" I said. But Douglas, without heeding me, had begun to read with a fine clearness that was like a rendering to the ear of the beauty of his author's hand.

⑧ 擰緊電影百度雲資源

鏈接：https://pan..com/share/init?surl=69hexnjXTJlfaYkI1Dvlrw

密碼：rjpx

該片講述了一名年輕女家庭教師發現孤兒的家鬧鬼的故事

⑨ 螺絲在擰緊（The Turn of Screw）電影 1999

無字的:

http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/pmJOgdOTw10/

英文字幕的:

http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/Wsnn2WnF5uE/isRenhe=1

http://www.tudou.com/programs/view/kTwOZYNmNl8/isRenhe=1

土豆上的在線

colin·firth吧上的介紹及截圖:

http://tieba..com/f?kz=547747908