本剧以东汉末年和三国时期为背景，说的是自黄巾之乱后，西晋武帝统一中国。剧中人物多达四百多，塑造了诸如诸葛亮、刘备、关羽、张飞、赵云、黄忠、周瑜、董卓、鲁肃、孙权、曹操等性格鲜明且具有艺术魅力的形象。 　　在原著的基础上，加入了儿女情长的戏说，点缀了原本是“只充满勇武、缺乏温柔细腻”的“男人世界。 　　剧情概要： 　　关羽因在家乡犯案，故逃亡至涿郡，恰巧与刘备和张飞相遇，刘、关、张三人志向相同，极为投契，便在桃园结成异姓兄弟，从此闯荡天下。 　　后因日夜兼程兵撤上庸，连续数日未曾休息，人困体乏，在近蜀境的临沮(今湖北安远西北)被马忠擒获。关羽坚决不降东吴，被东吴所杀，享年五十六岁有余。 　　此剧虽为历史剧，但儿女情长很多，女性角色的戏份不少，港台众多著名女星加盟，（美女当然是少不了的，很有味道）反而更有些像武侠剧。剧里有些人物刻画的很突出，夸张（不如说是相当的夸张...汗...），如 张飞；有些人物则不想三国演义里描述的那般，比如，吕布在戏中的演艺不像反复无常的小人，倒像一个帅哥书生，怎么看都不像个坏人。戏中也加入了不少神话色彩。此剧于95年完成，虽然在现在看来内容不深入，详略很不得当，战争场面粗糙，画面重复播放。但毕竟距今十几年。无法与现代影视相提并论！所以，请大家口下留情。无论怎样，此戏也堪称经典！被称为港台版的《三国演义》。而且此戏的片尾曲，更是让人回味无穷，就好像特别是为英雄所创作的，更突出了回味历史惜英雄的色彩！请大家带着看武侠片的心态去好好品味这部经典港台历史剧《三国英雄传之关公》

本剧以东汉末年和三国时期为背景，说的是自黄巾之乱后，西晋武帝统一中国。剧中人物多达四百多，塑造了诸如诸葛亮、刘备、关羽、张飞、赵云、黄忠、周瑜、董卓、鲁肃、孙权、曹操等性格鲜明且具有艺术魅力的形象。 　　在原著的基础上，加入了儿女情长的戏说，点缀了原本是“只充满勇武、缺乏温柔细腻”的“男人世界。 　　剧情概要： 　　关羽因在家乡犯案，故逃亡至涿郡，恰巧与刘备和张飞相遇，刘、关、张三人志向相同，极为投契，便在桃园结成异姓兄弟，从此闯荡天下。 　　后因日夜兼程兵撤上庸，连续数日未曾休息，人困体乏，在近蜀境的临沮(今湖北安远西北)被马忠擒获。关羽坚决不降东吴，被东吴所杀，享年五十六岁有余。 　　此剧虽为历史剧，但儿女情长很多，女性角色的戏份不少，港台众多著名女星加盟，（美女当然是少不了的，很有味道）反而更有些像武侠剧。剧里有些人物刻画的很突出，夸张（不如说是相当的夸张...汗...），如 张飞；有些人物则不想三国演义里描述的那般，比如，吕布在戏中的演艺不像反复无常的小人，倒像一个帅哥书生，怎么看都不像个坏人。戏中也加入了不少神话色彩。此剧于95年完成，虽然在现在看来内容不深入，详略很不得当，战争场面粗糙，画面重复播放。但毕竟距今十几年。无法与现代影视相提并论！所以，请大家口下留情。无论怎样，此戏也堪称经典！被称为港台版的《三国演义》。而且此戏的片尾曲，更是让人回味无穷，就好像特别是为英雄所创作的，更突出了回味历史惜英雄的色彩！请大家带着看武侠片的心态去好好品味这部经典港台历史剧《三国英雄传之关公》

燃烧的爱

在一个美丽祥和的海岛上，有一群健康可爱的蔬菜，大家在萝卜村长的带领下，过着幸福而又快乐生活。可是神秘邪恶的基因博士在入侵了世上大部分地区后，将下一个目标瞄准了蔬菜家园，他派遣了一群变异动物去对付蔬菜们。阳光正义的小番番，善良可爱的洋葱美眉，无厘头爱恶作剧的萝卜特，脾气火爆的火辣辣，超级大吃货小胖豆……蔬菜们将使用各自神奇的技能，反抗动物们的入侵和破坏，保卫自己的家园。

在一个美丽祥和的海岛上，有一群健康可爱的蔬菜，大家在萝卜村长的带领下，过着幸福而又快乐生活。可是神秘邪恶的基因博士在入侵了世上大部分地区后，将下一个目标瞄准了蔬菜家园，他派遣了一群变异动物去对付蔬菜们。阳光正义的小番番，善良可爱的洋葱美眉，无厘头爱恶作剧的萝卜特，脾气火爆的火辣辣，超级大吃货小胖豆……蔬菜们将使用各自神奇的技能，反抗动物们的入侵和破坏，保卫自己的家园。

Deep into Hell Week, a favored pledgee is torn between honoring his code of silence or standing up against the intensifying violence of underground hazing.

The story is about an unnamed detective, hired by a beautiful, alcoholic woman, to find clues related to the disappearance of her husband. In the process, the detective is given a map (a ruined one), supposedly to help him, but which turns out in the end to be more like a metaphor of the guidelines one should have in life. The impossibility of finding relevant clues to help him solve the mystery leads the main character to an existential crisis, which builds slowly from inside and finally puts him in the position of identifying himself with the man he was supposed to find. 　　The Man Without a Map (燃えつきた地図 Moetsukita chizu) is a 1968 Japanese film directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara and starring Shintaro Katsu. The screenplay was adapted by Kōbō Abe from his novel The Ruined Map. This was the fourth and final film collaboration between Teshigahara and Abe.

The story is about an unnamed detective, hired by a beautiful, alcoholic woman, to find clues related to the disappearance of her husband. In the process, the detective is given a map (a ruined one), supposedly to help him, but which turns out in the end to be more like a metaphor of the guidelines one should have in life. The impossibility of finding relevant clues to help him solve the mystery leads the main character to an existential crisis, which builds slowly from inside and finally puts him in the position of identifying himself with the man he was supposed to find. 　　The Man Without a Map (燃えつきた地図 Moetsukita chizu) is a 1968 Japanese film directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara and starring Shintaro Katsu. The screenplay was adapted by Kōbō Abe from his novel The Ruined Map. This was the fourth and final film collaboration between Teshigahara and Abe.

For his third film in France, L'Enfant du Carnaval (1921), Mozhukhin directed himself. This is a delightful work, hinting at the astonishing visual vocabulary Mozhukhin would employ in his next directorial effort, Le brasier ardent (1923). Full of visual witticisms that include amusing match cuts and a terrific use of scenography, it can be argued that the choice of subject matter (wealthy bachelor finds a child on his doorstep and hires the child's real mother as nanny) has more than an old-fashioned air about it, but he manages to keep it fresh and sparkling until the tragic conclusion. There are some stylistic similarities between L'Enfant du Carnaval and an Italian film from 1917 which screened at last year's Festival, Luigi Serventi's Le Mogli e le arance (Wives and Oranges), written and supervised by Lucio D'Ambra, although this may be pure coincidence. 　　La Maison du mystère was followed by Mozhukhin's second and final solo directorial effort, the extraordinary Le brasier ardent (1923). Though Renoir cites this as the film which convinced him to become a director, few people understood Mozhukhin's tour de force blend of surrealism, Freud and dada, and Le brasier ardent was a commercial flop. It is directed with breathtaking boldness and a mastery of cinematic styles ranging in influence from Gance and Feuillade to the avant-garde. Le brasier ardent opens with a nightmare sequence that jumps out at the audience, beginning in hell and working itself up to a cathedral, all with Mozhukhin in different parts, from a demonic heretic at the stake to a bishop. The visionary Alexander Lochakoff designed, with Joseph-Louis Mundwiller (who later shot part of Gance's Napoléon [1927]) as cameraman. Mozhukhin's incandescent personality, shining out of those riveting eyes, acts as a match to his bravura directing, which includes astounding edits and the use of negative images. The audience is left dazzled by the audacity of his style, and mournful that a great career as director was cut short by an unappreciative public. 　　Finally, Casanova (Volkoff, 1927). I can think of no film where Venice is so gloriously shot, where the Carnival festivities of the late 18th century are so perfectly recreated, straight out of the paintings of Pietro Longhi. Full of comedy, and with Mozhukhin bounding through his scenes in the style of Douglas Fairbanks, 　　Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova 　　Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova 　　this is a gorgeous work, and though it lacks the technical bravura of, say, Le brasier ardent, it is a pleasure from beginning to end. The extraordinary restorations by Renée Lichtig (co-winner this year of the Jean Mitry Award) of both this and Michel Strogoff include their original hand-coloured sequences. The night scenes during Carnival, with fireworks exploding over the torch-lit gondolas, are scenes of wonder.

For his third film in France, L'Enfant du Carnaval (1921), Mozhukhin directed himself. This is a delightful work, hinting at the astonishing visual vocabulary Mozhukhin would employ in his next directorial effort, Le brasier ardent (1923). Full of visual witticisms that include amusing match cuts and a terrific use of scenography, it can be argued that the choice of subject matter (wealthy bachelor finds a child on his doorstep and hires the child's real mother as nanny) has more than an old-fashioned air about it, but he manages to keep it fresh and sparkling until the tragic conclusion. There are some stylistic similarities between L'Enfant du Carnaval and an Italian film from 1917 which screened at last year's Festival, Luigi Serventi's Le Mogli e le arance (Wives and Oranges), written and supervised by Lucio D'Ambra, although this may be pure coincidence. 　　La Maison du mystère was followed by Mozhukhin's second and final solo directorial effort, the extraordinary Le brasier ardent (1923). Though Renoir cites this as the film which convinced him to become a director, few people understood Mozhukhin's tour de force blend of surrealism, Freud and dada, and Le brasier ardent was a commercial flop. It is directed with breathtaking boldness and a mastery of cinematic styles ranging in influence from Gance and Feuillade to the avant-garde. Le brasier ardent opens with a nightmare sequence that jumps out at the audience, beginning in hell and working itself up to a cathedral, all with Mozhukhin in different parts, from a demonic heretic at the stake to a bishop. The visionary Alexander Lochakoff designed, with Joseph-Louis Mundwiller (who later shot part of Gance's Napoléon [1927]) as cameraman. Mozhukhin's incandescent personality, shining out of those riveting eyes, acts as a match to his bravura directing, which includes astounding edits and the use of negative images. The audience is left dazzled by the audacity of his style, and mournful that a great career as director was cut short by an unappreciative public. 　　Finally, Casanova (Volkoff, 1927). I can think of no film where Venice is so gloriously shot, where the Carnival festivities of the late 18th century are so perfectly recreated, straight out of the paintings of Pietro Longhi. Full of comedy, and with Mozhukhin bounding through his scenes in the style of Douglas Fairbanks, 　　Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova 　　Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova 　　this is a gorgeous work, and though it lacks the technical bravura of, say, Le brasier ardent, it is a pleasure from beginning to end. The extraordinary restorations by Renée Lichtig (co-winner this year of the Jean Mitry Award) of both this and Michel Strogoff include their original hand-coloured sequences. The night scenes during Carnival, with fireworks exploding over the torch-lit gondolas, are scenes of wonder.