拧紧电影剧情结局

① 电影拧紧结局什么意思

电影狩猎结局什么意思？
最后其实是点题之笔，·电影名字叫《狩猎》，这电影通篇讲的是主人公因小孩的一句无心之语而被人误会的事，这里面，主人公就是一个猎物，而镇上的人就是猎人，猎人是不会考虑猎物的想法的，只有猎物自己才知道自己
的处境是多么的危险。

② 《拧紧》百度云高清资源在线观看，弗洛莉娅·塞吉斯蒙迪导演的

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

提取码: waqd
《拧紧 The Turning》
导演: 弗洛莉娅·塞吉斯蒙迪
编剧: 凯利·海斯、查德·海斯、亨利·詹姆斯
主演: 麦肯兹·戴维斯、菲恩·伍法德、布鲁克琳·普林斯、芭芭拉·马滕、乔莉·理查德森、尼尔·格雷格·富尔顿、丹尼·汤姆森、金·阿迪斯、卡伦·伊根、马克·休伯曼
类型: 剧情、恐怖
制片国家/地区: 英国、爱尔兰、加拿大、美国
语言: 英语
上映日期: 2020-01-24(美国)
片长: 94分钟
又名: 凶宅疑童(港)、豪门怨灵(台)、螺丝在拧紧、碧庐冤孽、转向
改编自亨利·詹姆斯小说《螺丝在拧紧》（The Turn of the Screw），一位男子雇用了一名年轻女家庭教师，来照顾一对骤失双亲的侄儿和侄女，而她发现孤儿的家闹鬼。

③ 求一部喜剧电影名：女主角偷梁换柱卖100万的赝品画后被追杀，杀手最后反而帮助女主角逃难

给你找半天，是这部，今年新出的英国喜剧。

狂野目标 Wild Target (2010)7.8
这个杀手好怕丑
导演：乔纳森·林恩 主演：比尔·奈伊 艾米莉·布朗特 鲁伯特·格林特 ...
维克多·梅纳德（比尔·奈伊饰）是一名正经历中年危机的即将退休的顶尖职业杀手，他人过中年却一直孑然一身，过着单调刻板的生活，从未品尝过爱情的滋味。而他那位专横霸道的老妈（艾琳·阿特金斯饰）一直逼迫他找个女人传宗接代，好“传承家族血液中的杀手基...

④ 为什么在螺丝在拧紧中,女家庭教师没有名字

因为整个故事是以“我”的第一人称叙述的，没有名字可以更好的让观众代入自己。
本书展开方式是一个套在故事中的故事，基本百分之九十的内容都是一名家庭女教师的心理活动，不像其他的恐怖小说着重于描写环境来营造恐怖气氛，Henry通过大量对心理的描写及有张力的对话来渲染恐怖氛围，让人佩服。由于作者含糊的描写和剧情设定，本书有多种解读和争议，争议比较大的就是一种认为真的有鬼魂存在，女教师说的全是真话；一种是没有鬼魂存在，全部都是女教师的臆想。我稍微梳理一下故事情节：
女主受聘于一位英俊有钱的上流社会的绅士，绅士让她去一个偏远的庄园给他的侄子侄女担任家庭女教师，女教师在去的路上充满了担心，到了之后发现工资待遇很高、地位也很高，而且当她看到小女孩Flora时一切顾虑都打消了，她长得像天使一样美丽纯洁。
因为Flora的缘故女教师非常期待着看见小男孩Miles，想象着他会和Flora一样如何的美好，但是却等来了一封学校开除他的信，由此种下了疑惑的种子，女教师问过仆人Grose女士是否小男孩平时行事不端才会被学校开除，Grose非常肯定的否定了她，一直到本书结尾小男孩具体因为什么被开除都没有讲出来，这是一个萦绕全书、影响女教师心理变化很重要的事情。
之后女教师见到了Miles，看见他机灵可爱，完全不理解他为什么会被学校开除。她被这两个孩子深深的吸引，美妙的日子是被她偶然看见的“人影”打破的，后来女教师坚持认为是鬼魂，经和Grose太太讨论认为是庄园以前绅士的男仆Quint和之前的女教师Jessel。这二人都是意外死亡，Quint是醉酒车祸死的，Jessel是离开庄园后死的，女教师认为两个鬼魂之所以出现是不怀好意的，Quint想带走Miles，Jessel想带走Flora，为了两个孩子她变得非常勇敢开始和鬼魂作斗争。
但是奇怪的是，能看到这两个鬼魂的似乎从始至终只有女教师一个人，所有关于鬼魂的猜测都只存在于她的心理活动里，她与Grose太太讨论的时候Grose也是半信半疑的附和她，不支持她说一定是鬼魂也不否定她一定不是，之后两个孩子频繁诡异的活动让女主更加坚信两个孩子是受到了鬼魂的蛊惑和引诱，导致他们联合起来欺骗捉弄她，她已经不再喜欢两个孩子天使的脸庞，认为他们两个是演给她看的，其实内心早已经邪恶被腐化。
故事的转折点发生在Flora走失的一天，女教师和Grose在湖边找到她，女教师看到了湖对岸的正在燃烧的Jessel鬼魂，然而Grose和Flora没有看到，女教师的癫狂举动吓到了Flora，她再也不想看到女教师了。女教师让Grose带走了Flora，留下Miles和她在房子里，她要留下来和鬼魂战斗。Miles说出了他被开除的原因是他对他喜欢的人们讲了一些话，这些话被传到老师那里去所以被开除了，但是不知道说了什么。最后她看到Quint要来带走Miles，她紧紧拥抱住男孩，却发现男孩死在她怀中。

⑤ 螺丝在拧紧电影英文观后感

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 跪求拧紧2020年上映的由麦肯兹·戴维斯主演的百度云资源

《拧紧TheTurning》网络网盘高清资源免费在线观看

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

提取码: 19cj

《螺丝在拧紧》（TheTurnoftheScrew），一位男子雇用了一名年轻女家庭教师，来照顾一对骤失双亲的侄儿和侄女，而她发现孤儿的家闹鬼。

⑦ 《THE TURN OF THE SCREW》螺丝在拧紧

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 拧紧电影百度云资源

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

密码：rjpx

该片讲述了一名年轻女家庭教师发现孤儿的家闹鬼的故事

⑨ 螺丝在拧紧（The Turn of Screw）电影 1999

无字的:

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

土豆上的在线

colin·firth吧上的介绍及截图:

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