维尔纳?赫尔佐格:用脚步丈量世界的电影大师

From the moment I could think independently I knew I was going to make films. （从我能够独立思考的那一刻起，我就知道自己会拍电影。）

—Werner Herzog （维尔纳·赫尔佐格）

Few film directors seem as directly present in their work as Werner Herzog. Not only does he have an instantly recognisable aesthetic， but unlike most European auteurs of his generation， he has become a familiar face in front of the camera. We are so accustomed to seeing him that we might mistake him for just another “personality，” one of the celebrities who parade1） past on our screens. Directors are required to be showmen2）， particularly directors of documentaries， who always have to hustle3） to finance and screen their work. But Herzog’s presence， his insistence on being in the middle of things， is something more like an artistic strategy—which is to say it’s the very opposite of4） a strategy， unless it’s possible to be both strategic and uncalculated5）， canny6） and impulsive at the same time.

In Cave of Forgotten Dreams， Herzog can hardly help appearing on screen. The Chauvet cave， sealed off7） for 20，000 years in a limestone cliff above the river Ardèche in the south of France， was rediscovered in 1994. It was found to contain hundreds of paleolithic8） paintings， which may be more than 30，000 years old， almost twice the age of previous finds. Herzog and his crew had to shoot the whole film from a 2ft-wide metal walkway running along the cave’s floor， using hand-held lights and a stripped-down9） camera. They frequently appear in shot， having nowhere to hide. In voiceover， Herzog speculates about the origins of art， about being “locked in history，” and the impossibility of bridging the distance that separates his image-making from that of the painters， working in charcoal10） and red ochre on the cave walls. Hearing his familiar voice musing about these familiarly Herzogian themes has become weirdly comforting. It’s hard to remember how confrontational11） and strange his essayistic personal style seemed when audiences first encountered it.

Herzog’s first appearance in one of his own films was in a 1974 German TV documentary. In The Great Ecstasy12） of Woodcarver Steiner， his subject is a champion ski-jumper13）， a man who is pushing back the frontiers of his sport. We see footage of Walter Steiner， a phlegmatic14） young Swiss man with a long nose， jumping 179 m， landing badly. “We’re approaching the limit，” he explains. “Maybe I’d prefer to turn back … 15）” Cut to Herzog， glowering beside a ski slope. He taps a wooden stake that marks Steiner’s record-breaking jump. “This is the point where ski-flying becomes inhuman.” Had Steiner jumped a few metres further， he would have landed on the flat， the equivalent of falling from a 110m-high building. Herzog explains that his film “had its inception” at this marker. The word he uses in German is grenze， a border.

At the world championship in Yugoslavia， Steiner effortlessly outclasses the competition， but his mood is anxious. He is exceeding the parameters of the course， which puts him in terrible danger， yet the organisers will not listen. Again， he makes a jump that exceeds the previous world record， but falls. Herzog is at the top of the slope， communicating with his cameraman through a walkie-talkie16）. He believes Steiner may be badly injured. But after cursory treatment， we watch Steiner walk unsteadily out of the medical tent， the side of his head smeared in iodine. Twenty minutes later he jumps again.

When Steiner jumps he is shown in slow motion. His mouth hangs open in an “O” of terror and wonder. When he is in mid-air he embodies what for most people is just a vague metaphor： ecstasy. Standing outside the body， reaching out towards the infinite. Steiner is trying to jump as far as he can， but if he jumps too far he will die. He has come precisely to the border between life and death. Herzog watches him fly， a fan who has succeeded in capturing the sublimity of Steiner’s experience with great simplicity and beauty.

Herzog did not appear on camera by choice in The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner. The film was made for a series called Border Stations and the format demanded that he appear on screen. Later he was to grow confident， not only acting as the narrator of his films， but appearing as a physical presence. Herzog always seems to be on the verge of participation， of undergoing the story he is trying to tell. His “documentary” films sometimes seem like elaborate mechanisms to allow the director to experience the trials and joys of his subjects. Of course， when it is possible to participate directly， he does so. In Waiting for an Inevitable Catastrophe， he climbs a volcano as it is about to erupt. The catastrophe is always imminent17） in Herzog’s films. It is the shadow in which he positions himself for his piece to camera， a lugubrious18） moustachioed19） Orpheus20）， reporting live from the underworld.

His 2005 film Grizzly Man was assembled from archival footage left by bear enthusiast Timothy Treadwell after he and his girlfriend Amie Huguenard were killed and partially eaten in 2003. Treadwell spent 13 summers in an Alaskan national park， living close to bears， against the advice of rangers who warned him it was unsafe. Treadwell’s video camera recorded audio of the fatal attack21）. Jewel Palovak， Treadwell’s former girlfriend and business partner， gave Herzog permission to listen to this “border crossing.” We see the director hunched over， wearing a pair of headphones， as Palovak sits with the camera in her lap， scrutinising his reaction. He begins to describe what he is hearing. Then he falls silent. The shot gradually tightens to a close-up of Palovak’s stunned face. She has never played the tape herself. Finally Herzog asks her to turn the camera-off. “Jewel， you must never listen to this，” he says. “And you must never look at the photos I have seen at the coroner’s office.” She promises not to. And of course we， the audience， will not hear or see these things. Herzog has been to the other side on our behalf.

Herzog’s feature films often seem the byproduct of some transformative， often traumatic experience undergone by the director and his crew. Aguirre， Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo， the two films he made in South America with Klaus Kinski22）， have become legendary for their production problems and the confrontations between director and star. In Fitzcarraldo， which deals with a 19th-century rubber baron who dreams of building an opera house in Iquitos， Herzog insisted that the film’s central image—moving a 300 tonne steamship over a hill—be achieved without special effects. He also filmed on board the ship as it careered23） through a set of rapids. Both productions were shot in inaccessible locations， and the crew underwent great hardship.

Herzog’s wish to be present in his films， to experience what he is trying to understand， can seem avaricious24）. Critics who feel uncomfortable with some of the situations （and people） he puts on screen frequently question his ethics. Yet his avidity for extreme experience has nothing cold or cynical about it. He seems one part ethnographic25） participant-observer to one part strikingly old-school German romantic， an artist who considers his work no more than the trace of the experience that produced it. The various Herzogian heroes are all avatars of a romantic subjectivity： the megalomaniac26） Kinski， the abused but powerfully dignified Bruno S27）， the murderous madrigal composer Gesualdo， revolutionary dwarves， child soldiers， hypnotised28） villagers … None is more powerful than the ski-jumper Steiner， to whom Herzog gives an epigram， adapted from the Swiss writer Robert Walser29）： “I should be all alone in this world. Me， Steiner and no other living being. No sun， no culture： I naked on a high cliff， no storm， no snow， no streets， no banks， no money. No time and no breath. Then I would no longer have to be afraid.”

Steiner’s words are a description of life-in-death， perfected， changeless and absolute. But Herzog knows that to be alive is always to be somewhere rather than nowhere， which is why his films are always concerned with landscape.

Of course， for a German film director， the landscape is not innocent. Under Joseph Goebbels30）， Nazi aestheticians hollowed out the traditions of German romanticism and used them for their own ends. In Nazi-era cinema， the mountain movie was a favourite genre， complete with heroic figures imposing their will on nature， while being infused with its mystical energy. Sachrang， where Herzog grew up， is not far from Berchtesgaden and the Berghof， Hitler’s mountain residence. In the traumatised postwar Germany of Herzog’s youth， German cinema had retreated into sentimental depictions of rural life that were less repudiations31） of what had gone before than distasteful echoes of it.

Thus when Herzog opens The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser with the paradigmatically Nazi image of a field of waving corn， it is a deliberate provocation. Herzog was one of the first film-makers to dare to reimagine romantic landscape， to wrest it free of trashy sentiment and fascist yearnings for domination， to dare to think again about a man standing alone on a high cliff. Herzog’s krautrock32）-soundtracked underdog romanticism， though never commercially popular， caught a note of authentic yearning， the wish for what Herzog has termed “ecstatic truth”.

From Fata Morgana to the calcified womb of the Cave of Forgotten Dreams， Herzog has made it his mission to re-spiritualise landscape， to allow fear， awe and wonder to re-inhabit our perception of the natural world. But， however grounded he is in the canonical images and themes of the German romantic tradition， he is not content to reproduce conventional images of the sublime. The oddest， most authentically Herzogian note in Cave of Forgotten Dreams comes at the end， where the camera drifts away from Chauvet and the cave paintings to a nearby tropical biosphere， where it picks up an extraordinary image of two albino33） alligators34） mirroring each other as they float in the water. Its connection to the ostensible business of the film is tenuous， but it is authentically fascinating， and in the end that is Herzog’s only binding aesthetic criterion for putting something on screen.

In 2010， Herzog published the text of a speech he gave after a screening of Lessons of Darkness. In it he expounds on the difference between truth and fact. It is a statement which gets to the heart of35） why his documentaries feel like fiction， and why he is always chest-deep in the river， rather than looking at a monitor on the bank. “We must ask of reality： how important is it， really？ And： how important， really， is the factual？ Of course， we can’t disregard the factual； it has normative power. But it can never give us the kind of illumination， the ecstatic flash， from which truth emerges.”

很少有电影导演像维尔纳·赫尔佐格那样直接出现在自己的作品中。他不仅有一套让人一眼就能认出来的审美观，而且有一点和大多数欧洲同代电影导演不同，那就是他已成为镜头前的熟面孔。我们对银幕上的他如此习以为常，以至于会误以为他只不过是又一“知名人士”，一位在银幕上闪亮走过的明星。导演按要求应该是经理人，尤其是纪录片导演，总是要四处奔波筹集资金，拍摄作品。但赫尔佐格在影片中的露面——对自身进入影片的坚持——更像是一种艺术策略。也就是说，它其实是反策略的，除非人们可以做到既讲究策略性又缺乏计划性，既精明谨慎又冲动任性。

在影片《遗忘之梦的岩洞》中，赫尔佐格几乎是在不得已的情况下出现在银幕上的。肖韦洞在法国南部阿尔代什河岸的石灰岩绝壁上已尘封了两万年，于1994年被重新发现。在洞中，人们发现了几百幅旧石器时代的壁画，这些壁画大概有三万多年的历史，比之前的发现几乎早一倍的时间。洞穴的地面上铺设了一条两英尺宽的金属通道，赫尔佐格和他的摄制组人员只能在这条通道上拍摄整部电影，使用的是手持式光源和没有任何附属设备的简装摄像机。他们常常会出现在镜头中，因为没有地方藏身。在画外音中，赫尔佐格推测艺术的起源，思索“尘封在历史中”的感觉，认为他所拍摄的影像和当初画师们在洞壁上用木炭和红赭石创作出来的壁画之间存在着无法弥补的距离。说来也怪，听着他那熟悉的声音若有所思地讲述着人们所熟悉的赫尔佐格式的主题，竟令人感到一种慰藉。现在人们已很难想起，当初第一次看到他那种论说式的个人风格时，是如何感到奇怪和格格不入的。

赫尔佐格第一次在他自己的电影中露面是在1974年德国的一部电视纪录片中。在《木雕家斯泰纳的狂喜》一片中，他的主人公是一名跳台滑雪冠军，一个在自己所属的运动领域不断开拓疆域的人。他叫斯泰纳，一位长鼻子的瑞士年轻人，沉着冷静。在一组连续镜头中，我们看到斯泰纳从179米的高空跳下，着陆时摔倒了。“我们正接近极限，” 斯泰纳解释说，“也许我宁可回头（去跳不那么高的斜道）……”这时镜头切换到赫尔佐格，他正脸色阴沉地站在助滑斜道旁看着这一切。他拍着一根标记着斯泰纳那破纪录一跳的木桩说：“到了这个点上，跳台滑雪已经变得极其残忍。”如果斯泰纳再往前跳几米，他就会摔到平地上，那相当于从110米高的楼顶上摔下来。赫尔佐格说他的电影就是从这个标志物上“找到了切入点”。他用的是德语中的一个词“grenze”，意思是“边界”。

在前南斯拉夫举行的世界冠军赛上，斯泰纳轻而易举地击败了竞争对手，但他的情绪却很焦虑。他跳出了赛道的边界，这使他陷于极其危险的境地，但主办方对此却置若罔闻。结果，他又一次起跳，这次跳跃超越了之前的世界纪录，但他摔倒了。赫尔佐格当时正在斜道顶上，用步话机和摄影师进行联络。他认为斯泰纳可能会受重伤。但经过草草治疗之后，我们看到斯泰纳步履蹒跚地从医疗帐篷里走了出来，头的一侧涂上了碘酒。20分钟之后，他又开始起跳。

斯泰纳跳跃的动作播放时用的是慢镜头。他的嘴巴因为恐惧和惊讶张成了一个大大的“O”字。在半空中，他形象地演绎了一个对大多数人来说只是模糊概念的隐喻：狂喜。摆脱躯体的束缚，飞向无限的时空。斯泰纳一直力图跳得尽可能远，但如果跳得太远他就会丧命。他已经不折不扣地来到了生与死的边界。赫尔佐格看着他飞翔，这位铁杆粉丝以极其简洁而又富有美感的手法成功地捕捉到了斯泰纳滑雪生涯中那崇高的气质。

在《木雕家斯泰纳的狂喜》中，赫尔佐格在镜头前露面并不是出于他自己的选择。这部片子是系列节目《边界站点》的一部分，该系列节目的拍摄模式要求他必须出现在银幕上。后来他渐渐有了信心，不仅当电影的解说员，而且还实打实地出现在银幕上。对于他试图讲述的故事，赫尔佐格总是处于一种近乎参演的状态，几乎是亲身经历了一番。有时，他的“纪录”片似乎就是一种精心设计的机制，可以让导演经历主人公所经历的痛苦与欢乐。当然，在有可能直接参与时，他当仁不让。在纪录片《苏弗雷火山》中，他爬上了一座即将喷发的火山。在赫尔佐格的影片中，灾难总是随时都会降临。他正是站在这样的阴影中开始拍摄自己的作品，就像一位悲怆的、留着八字胡的俄耳甫斯，在地狱中进行现场报道。

他2005年的电影《灰熊人》是根据灰熊爱好者提摩西·崔德威尔留下的影片档案改编而成的。2003年，崔德威尔和他的女友艾美·霍格纳德在灰熊口下丧命，遗体有一部分被灰熊吃掉。崔德威尔在阿拉斯加州的一个国家公园里度过了13个寒暑，他不顾公园管理员提出的灰熊危险的忠告，和灰熊亲密生活在一起。崔德威尔的摄像机记录下了他们受到致命攻击时的音频。他的前女友和生意伙伴朱厄尔·帕罗法克许可赫尔佐格去听这段“越界”的录音。于是我们看到导演赫尔佐格弓着腰，戴着一副耳机。帕罗法克则坐在那里，膝上放着摄像机，凝神细观他的反应。他开始描述他所听到的内容，但突然他停了下来。镜头逐渐拉近，变成一个特写，那是帕罗法克惊愕的面孔。她本人从没有听过那个带子。最后，赫尔佐格让她把摄像机关上。“朱厄尔，你切记永远都不要听这个带子，”他说，“而且永远也不要看我在验尸官办公室里看到的那些照片。”她答应了。当然，作为观众的我们将无法听到或者看到这些东西。赫尔佐格已代表我们到“那边”走了一遭。

赫尔佐格的故事片似乎常常是导演及其摄制组人员的一些经历的副产品，那些经历具有转变意义，往往也十分惨痛。他在南美洲拍摄的由克劳斯·金斯基主演的《阿奎尔，上帝的愤怒》（译注：也译作《天谴》）和《陆上行舟》两部影片因制作问题以及导演和主演之间的对抗而成为影坛传奇。《陆上行舟》写的是19世纪一位橡胶大亨的故事，他梦想在秘鲁伊基托斯市建造一座歌剧院。影片的中心场景是将一艘三百吨重的轮船运过一座山，赫尔佐格坚持不使用特效进行拍摄。当轮船急速穿过一道道激流时，他还照样在这艘船上指导拍摄。这两部影片都是在难以进入的场地进行拍摄的，摄制组人员吃尽了苦头。

赫尔佐格渴望在自己的影片中露面，渴望体验他试图理解的东西，这种渴望似乎永无止境。有些批评家对他在银幕上所展示的某些场景（和人物）感到不安，常常质疑他的道德观。然而，他对极端体验的热衷并不能说明他生性冷酷或者愤世嫉俗。一方面，他似乎是一位人种志研究的参与者和观察者；另一方面，他似乎又是一个显而易见的德国老派浪漫主义者，一位认为自己的作品不过是创作这一作品的经历所留下的印迹的艺术家。赫尔佐格影片中的主人公虽形形、各不相同，但却都是浪漫主体性的化身：妄自尊大的金斯基、曾遭虐待却依然高傲自尊的布鲁诺·S，杀过人的牧歌作曲家杰苏阿尔多、革命的小矮人、娃娃兵、被催眠的村民等等。但这些都没有跳台滑雪手斯泰纳那么强大，对于他，赫尔佐格曾赠予过一段名言，改编自瑞士作家罗伯特·瓦尔泽的一段话：“在这个世界上我将孑然一身。只有我——斯泰纳，其他再无别的生命存在。没有太阳，没有文化：在高高的悬崖上我赤身，没有风暴，没有雪，没有街道，没有银行，没有金钱。没有时间，没有呼吸。于是我将不再担惊受怕。”

斯泰纳的这段话描述的是死亡中的生命——完美、永恒、纯粹。但赫尔佐格知道，活着总是意味着存在于某个地方，而不是无处容身。正因为如此，他的影片总是和风景有关。

当然，对一位德国电影导演来说，风景也不是完全无辜的。在约瑟夫·戈培尔的领导下，纳粹美学家掏空了德国浪漫主义传统，以达到自己的目的。在纳粹时期的影坛，山岳题材的电影很受欢迎，讲述的往往是英雄人物如何融合了自然的神秘力量，以自己的意志战胜了自然。萨其朗格——赫尔佐格成长的地方——就离德国东南部城镇贝希特斯加登和希特勒的山地别墅伯格霍夫不远。赫尔佐格的少年时代正处于伤痕累累的战后德国，那时德国电影已开始转型，转向对乡村生活的伤感描述，这与其说是对以前电影风尚的否定与拒绝，倒不如说是一种令人倒胃口的回应。

因此，当赫尔佐格在一片摇曳的玉米地里开拍《贾斯伯·荷西之谜》时，那是一种故意的挑衅，因为玉米地是经典的纳粹形象。赫尔佐格是第一位敢于重新构想浪漫风景的电影制作人，敢于使之脱离无谓的伤感，脱离法西斯分子对统治的觊觎，敢于重新思考一个人独自站在高高的悬崖顶端的涵义。赫尔佐格那带有德国摇滚音轨的浪漫主义虽然不被看好，虽然从商业上来说从未走红，但却传达了一种真正的渴望，那是对赫尔佐格所说的“狂喜的真理”的渴望。

从《海市蜃楼》到《遗忘之梦的岩洞》中那钙化的洞穴，赫尔佐格一直致力于重新赋予风景以精神内涵，允许畏惧、敬畏和惊叹重新进入我们对自然世界的感知之中。然而，不管他如何立足于德国浪漫主义传统中的经典形象和主题，他并不满足于再现传统的崇高形象。在《遗忘之梦的岩洞》中，最古怪同时也最具赫尔佐格风格的画面出现在影片最后，镜头从肖韦洞穴和洞穴壁画上移开，停在附近一个热带生物圈上，偶然捕捉到一个非同寻常的画面：两只白化短吻鳄漂浮在水中，彼此像照镜子一样相“映”成趣。这个画面和影片表面上的主题似乎没有多大关联，但确实很迷人。从根本上来讲，它也是赫尔佐格在选择将什么放上银幕时唯一具有约束力的审美标准。

2010年，赫尔佐格发表了他在拍摄《黑暗之课》后所作的一次演讲的演讲稿。在演讲中，他阐述了真理与事实的区别。正是这句话一语中的，回答了为什么他的纪录片感觉像是虚构的，为什么他总是宁愿深入齐胸的水中，也不愿轻松地坐在岸上看监视器。“对于现实，我们一定要问：它到底有多重要？还有：真实到底有多重要？当然，我们不能不考虑真实性；真实具有规范性力量。但它永远也无法给我们以启迪——那灵光一闪的狂喜。而真理正是在这灵光一闪中诞生的。”

1. parade [p??re?d] vi. （尤指为了让人注意到并羡慕）炫耀地走来走去

2. showman [????m?n] n. 娱乐经理人；（戏剧、音乐、文娱表演等的）演出主持人

3. hustle [?h?s（?）] vi. 赶忙做，奔忙

4. the very opposite of：与……正好相反

5. uncalculated [??n?k?lkj??le?t?d] adj. 未经事先考虑（或计划）的，一时冲动而造成的

6. canny [?k?ni] adj. 精明而谨慎的

7. seal off：（因有危险而）封闭，封锁（某地区或某建筑）

8. paleolithic [?p?li?u?liθik] adj. 旧石器时代的

9. stripped-down：简装的

10. charcoal [?t?ɑ?（r）?k??l] n. （绘画用的）炭笔

11. confrontational [?k?nfr?n?tei??n?l] adj. 挑衅的；对抗的

12. ecstasy [?ekst?si] n. 狂喜，狂热

13. ski-jumper：跳台滑雪运动员。ski-jumping：跳台滑雪，简称“跳雪”。就是运动员脚踩特制的滑雪板，沿着跳台的助滑斜道下滑，借助速度和弹跳力使身体跃入空中，并在空中飞行约4～5秒钟后，降至着落坡上。

14. phlegmatic [fleg?m?t?k] adj. 不动感情的；冷静的，镇定的

15. 这句话本文有省略，其完整的句子为“Maybe I’d prefer to turn back， go back to flying off 150- or 130-meter ramps”。此处旨在说明斯泰纳认为他起跳的助滑斜道高度已达到极限，他宁可回头去跳不那么高的斜道，比如150米或130米高的助滑斜道。

16. walkie-talkie：手提无线电话机

17. imminent [??m?n?nt] adj. （通常指不愉快的事）即将发生的，迫在眉睫的

18. lugubrious [l??ɡu?bri?s] adj.悲哀的，阴郁的

19. moustachioed [m??st??i??d] adj. 留八字须的，有八字须的

20. Orpheus：〈希神〉俄耳甫斯，希腊神话中的诗人和歌手。善于弹奏竖琴，据说其弹奏时“猛兽俯首，顽石点头”。他的妻子欧律狄克被毒蛇咬伤并致死后，他追到阴间，用琴声打动了冥王哈得斯，欧律狄克再获生机。但冥王告诫他，离开地狱前万万不可回首张望。冥途将尽，俄尔甫斯抑制不住胸中爱念，转身确定妻子是否跟随在后，却使妻子堕回冥界的无底深渊。

21. 在崔德威尔遇难的过程中，他的摄影机没打开镜头盖，但声音却被全部记录下来。尽管帕罗法克同意赫尔佐格在《灰熊人》中采用这段音频，但赫尔佐格最终还是决定让这段音频得到永远的“安息”。

22. Klaus Kinski：克劳斯·金斯基（1926～1991），德国演员，以在银幕上具有爆发性的演出和暴烈性格著称。他的国际声誉来自于与赫尔佐格合作的五部电影，这五部电影被认为是欧洲电影的杰作。但他们的合作关系充满着暴力与纷争，在某次严重的争吵中，他们甚至互相威胁要杀了对方。这种充满执念的爱恨关系使得他们达到创作的巅峰，但也造成他们在1987年的分裂。赫尔佐格后来在美国发行了回顾与金斯基合作的影片《我最好的朋友》（My Best Friend）。

23. career [k??ri?] vi. 全速前进，猛冲

24. avaricious [??v??r???s] adj. 贪恋的，贪得无厌的

25. ethnographic [eθ?n??ɡr?f?k] adj. 人种志的，人种论的

26. megalomaniac [?meɡ?l??me?ni?k] adj. 有自大狂的人

27. Bruno S：即布鲁诺·施莱茵斯坦（Bruno Schleinstein， 1932～2010），德国电影演员、艺术家、音乐家

28. hypnotise [?h?pn??ta?z] vt. 对……施催眠术

29. Robert Walser：罗伯特·瓦尔泽（1878～1956），瑞士作家，被公认为德语文学的大师。

30. Joseph Goebbels：约瑟夫·戈培尔（1897～1945），纳粹党宣传部部长，纳粹德国国民教育与宣传部部长，被认为是“创造希特勒的人”。

31. repudiation [r??pju?die?t??n] n. 拒绝，否认

32. Krautrock：英国一个乐评人发明的专有名词，泛指20世纪70年代出现在德国的有别于英美风格的前卫摇滚乐团。这些乐团偏爱迷幻奇想，在摇滚乐中加入了革命性的电声实验，以营造太空冥想的氛围。

33. albino [?l?bi?n??] n. [生]白变种；白化体

34. alligator [??l??ge?t?] n. 短吻鳄

35. get to the heart of：到达（或确定）事物最重要的部分