The last time Britain was a major force in world cinema was in the 1960s; a documentary of a few years back on the subject was entitled 'Hollywood UK'. This was the era of the Kitchen Sink, social realism, angry young men; above all, the theatrical. And yet, ironically, the best British films of the decade were made by two Americans, Richard Lester and Joseph Losey, who largely stayed clear of the period's more typical subject matter, which, like all attempts at greater realism, now seems curiously archaic. 　　'King and Country', though, seems to be the Losey film that tries to belong to its era. Like 'Look Back in Anger' and 'A Taste of Honey', it is based on a play, and often seems cumbersomely theatrical. Like 'Loneliness of the long distance runner', its hero is an exploited, reluctantly transgressive working class lad played by Tom Courtenay. Like (the admittedly brilliant) 'Charge of the Light Brigade', it is a horrified, near-farcical (though humourless) look at the horrors of war, most particularly its gaping class injustices. 　　Private Hamp is a young volunteer soldier at Pachendaele, having served three years at the front, who is court-martialled for desertion. Increasingly terrorised by the inhuman pointlessness of trench warfare, the speedy, grisly, violent deaths of his comrades and the medieval, rat-infested conditions of his trench, he claims to have emerged dazed from one gruesome attack and decided to walk home, to England. He is defended by the archetypal British officer, Captain Hargreaves, who professes disdain for the man's cowardice, but must do his duty. He attempts to spin a defence on the grounds of madness, but the upper-crust officers have heard it all before. 　　This is a very nice, duly horrifying, liberal-handwringing, middle-class play. It panders to all the cliches of the Great War - the disgraceful working-class massacre, while the officers sup whiskey (Haig!) - figured in some charmingly obvious symbolism: Hargreaves throwing a dying cigarette in the mud; Hamp hysterically playing blind man's buff. 　　The sets are picturesquely grim, medieval, a modern inferno, as these men lie trapped in a never-ending, subterranean labyrinth, lit by hellish fires, with rats for company and the constant sound of shells and gunfire reminding them of the outside world. 　　The play, in a very middle-class way, is not really about the working class at all - Hamp is more of a symbol, an essence, lying in the dark, desolately playing his harmonica, a note of humanity in a score of inhumanity. He doesn't develop as a character. The play is really about Hargreaves, his realisation of the shabby inadequacy of notions like duty. He develops. This realisation sends him to drink (tastier than dying!). Like his prole subordinates, he falls in the mud, just as Hamp is said to have done; he even says to his superior 'We are all murderers'. 　　This is all very effective, if not much of a development of RC Sherriff's creaky 'Journey's End', filmed by James Whale in 1930. Its earnestness and verbosity may seem a little stilted in the age of 'Paths of Glory' and 'Dr. Strangelove'; we may feel that 'Blackadder goes forth' is a truer representation of the Great War. But what I have described is not the film Losey has made. He is too sophisticated and canny an intellectual for that. 　　The film opens with a lingering pan over one of those monumental War memorials you see all over Britain (and presumably Europe), as if to say Losey is going to question the received ideas of this statue, the human cost. But what he's really questioning is this play, and its woeful inadequacy to represent the manifold complexities of the War. 　　This is Brechtian filmmaking at its most subtle. We are constantly made aware of the artifice of the film, the theatrical - the stilted dialogue is spoken with deliberate stiffness; theatrical rituals are emphasised (the initial interrogation; the court scene, where actors literally tread the boards, enunciating the predictable speeches; the mirror-play put on by the hysterical soldiers and the rats; the religious ceremony; the horrible farce of the execution). Proscenium arches are made prominent, audiences observe events. 　　This is a play that would seek to contain, humanise, explain the Great War. This is a hopeless task, as Losey's provisional apparatus explains, 'real' photographs of harrowing detritus fading from the screen as if even these are not enough to convey the War, never mind a well-made, bourgeois play. Losey's vision may be apocalyptic - it questions the possibility of representation at all - the various tags of poetry quoted make no impact on hard men men who rattled them off when young; the Shakespearean duality of 'noble' drama commented on by 'low' comedy, effects no transcendence, no greater insight. 　　Losey's camerawork and composition repeatedly breaks our involvement with the drama, any wish we might have for manly sentimentality; in one remarkable scene an officer takes an Aubrey Beardsley book from the cameraman! This idea of the theatrical evidently mirrors the rigid class 'roles' played by the main characters (Hamp's father and grandfather were cobblers too; presumably Hargreaves' were always Sandhurst cadets). Losey also takes a sideswipe at the kitchen sink project, by using its tools - history has borne him out.

The last time Britain was a major force in world cinema was in the 1960s; a documentary of a few years back on the subject was entitled 'Hollywood UK'. This was the era of the Kitchen Sink, social realism, angry young men; above all, the theatrical. And yet, ironically, the best British films of the decade were made by two Americans, Richard Lester and Joseph Losey, who largely stayed clear of the period's more typical subject matter, which, like all attempts at greater realism, now seems curiously archaic. 　　'King and Country', though, seems to be the Losey film that tries to belong to its era. Like 'Look Back in Anger' and 'A Taste of Honey', it is based on a play, and often seems cumbersomely theatrical. Like 'Loneliness of the long distance runner', its hero is an exploited, reluctantly transgressive working class lad played by Tom Courtenay. Like (the admittedly brilliant) 'Charge of the Light Brigade', it is a horrified, near-farcical (though humourless) look at the horrors of war, most particularly its gaping class injustices. 　　Private Hamp is a young volunteer soldier at Pachendaele, having served three years at the front, who is court-martialled for desertion. Increasingly terrorised by the inhuman pointlessness of trench warfare, the speedy, grisly, violent deaths of his comrades and the medieval, rat-infested conditions of his trench, he claims to have emerged dazed from one gruesome attack and decided to walk home, to England. He is defended by the archetypal British officer, Captain Hargreaves, who professes disdain for the man's cowardice, but must do his duty. He attempts to spin a defence on the grounds of madness, but the upper-crust officers have heard it all before. 　　This is a very nice, duly horrifying, liberal-handwringing, middle-class play. It panders to all the cliches of the Great War - the disgraceful working-class massacre, while the officers sup whiskey (Haig!) - figured in some charmingly obvious symbolism: Hargreaves throwing a dying cigarette in the mud; Hamp hysterically playing blind man's buff. 　　The sets are picturesquely grim, medieval, a modern inferno, as these men lie trapped in a never-ending, subterranean labyrinth, lit by hellish fires, with rats for company and the constant sound of shells and gunfire reminding them of the outside world. 　　The play, in a very middle-class way, is not really about the working class at all - Hamp is more of a symbol, an essence, lying in the dark, desolately playing his harmonica, a note of humanity in a score of inhumanity. He doesn't develop as a character. The play is really about Hargreaves, his realisation of the shabby inadequacy of notions like duty. He develops. This realisation sends him to drink (tastier than dying!). Like his prole subordinates, he falls in the mud, just as Hamp is said to have done; he even says to his superior 'We are all murderers'. 　　This is all very effective, if not much of a development of RC Sherriff's creaky 'Journey's End', filmed by James Whale in 1930. Its earnestness and verbosity may seem a little stilted in the age of 'Paths of Glory' and 'Dr. Strangelove'; we may feel that 'Blackadder goes forth' is a truer representation of the Great War. But what I have described is not the film Losey has made. He is too sophisticated and canny an intellectual for that. 　　The film opens with a lingering pan over one of those monumental War memorials you see all over Britain (and presumably Europe), as if to say Losey is going to question the received ideas of this statue, the human cost. But what he's really questioning is this play, and its woeful inadequacy to represent the manifold complexities of the War. 　　This is Brechtian filmmaking at its most subtle. We are constantly made aware of the artifice of the film, the theatrical - the stilted dialogue is spoken with deliberate stiffness; theatrical rituals are emphasised (the initial interrogation; the court scene, where actors literally tread the boards, enunciating the predictable speeches; the mirror-play put on by the hysterical soldiers and the rats; the religious ceremony; the horrible farce of the execution). Proscenium arches are made prominent, audiences observe events. 　　This is a play that would seek to contain, humanise, explain the Great War. This is a hopeless task, as Losey's provisional apparatus explains, 'real' photographs of harrowing detritus fading from the screen as if even these are not enough to convey the War, never mind a well-made, bourgeois play. Losey's vision may be apocalyptic - it questions the possibility of representation at all - the various tags of poetry quoted make no impact on hard men men who rattled them off when young; the Shakespearean duality of 'noble' drama commented on by 'low' comedy, effects no transcendence, no greater insight. 　　Losey's camerawork and composition repeatedly breaks our involvement with the drama, any wish we might have for manly sentimentality; in one remarkable scene an officer takes an Aubrey Beardsley book from the cameraman! This idea of the theatrical evidently mirrors the rigid class 'roles' played by the main characters (Hamp's father and grandfather were cobblers too; presumably Hargreaves' were always Sandhurst cadets). Losey also takes a sideswipe at the kitchen sink project, by using its tools - history has borne him out.

一个英国人，在伦敦长大，二战期间加入军队在朝鲜战争中的战斗。

克雷格·比贝洛斯将导演根据Greg Rucka同名漫画改编的《女王与祖国》（Queen & Country）。艾伦·佩吉将饰演女主角Tara Chace，一名英国军情六处的女间谍。

雷德利·斯科特商谈执导福斯新片《女王与国家》(Queen & Country)，若谈好了他也将同Chernin Entertainment共同制片。基于Greg Rucka所著同名漫画，聚焦英国秘密情报局特工Tara Chace，她是三个致力于保护英国情报机构的特工组织中的其中一员，在一次暗杀任务重身份被暴露。 参与插画创作的包括Chris Samnee、Carla Speed McNei、Bryan Lee O'Malley，该系列漫画从2001年至2007年共出版了32本，于2002年获得埃斯纳最佳新系列漫画奖。 艾伦·佩吉曾在2013年时商谈出演，当时操刀剧本的是莱恩·康道尔(《殖民地》《宙斯之子：赫拉克勒斯》)，John Rogers(《终极玩家》《猫女》)和Rucka此前也进行过创作，目前剧本的状态不明。

上海机器织布局俗称“老洋布局”，是近代中国最早的官督商办机器棉纺织企业。早在光绪二年（1876），李鸿章便曾派魏纶先出面筹办织布事宜，但魏无法筹集资金，所以该计划未能实现。光绪四年九月初十日，四川候补道彭汝琮呈请北洋大臣李鸿章、南洋大臣沈葆桢奏准设立上海机器织布局。几经变动，光绪六年（1880），确定由戴恒、龚寿图、郑观应、经元善等人负责筹办，郑观应任总办，开办资金五十万两，全套机器从英、美购置，拥有纱绽三万五千枚，布机五百三十台，雇工多时约四千人。光绪十三年（1887），李鸿章复派龚寿图接办。直到光绪十六年（1890）才建成投产。营业兴旺，纺纱的利润尤高。光绪十九年（1893）夏，李鸿章决定扩充纺纱，向英国增订机器。九月初十日，织布局清花间失火，全厂付之一炬。十月，李鸿章派盛宣怀会同上海海关道聂缉椝负责恢复织布局，招募新股一百万两，在织布局旧址设厂，取名“华盛纺织总厂”。

上海机器织布局俗称“老洋布局”，是近代中国最早的官督商办机器棉纺织企业。早在光绪二年（1876），李鸿章便曾派魏纶先出面筹办织布事宜，但魏无法筹集资金，所以该计划未能实现。光绪四年九月初十日，四川候补道彭汝琮呈请北洋大臣李鸿章、南洋大臣沈葆桢奏准设立上海机器织布局。几经变动，光绪六年（1880），确定由戴恒、龚寿图、郑观应、经元善等人负责筹办，郑观应任总办，开办资金五十万两，全套机器从英、美购置，拥有纱绽三万五千枚，布机五百三十台，雇工多时约四千人。光绪十三年（1887），李鸿章复派龚寿图接办。直到光绪十六年（1890）才建成投产。营业兴旺，纺纱的利润尤高。光绪十九年（1893）夏，李鸿章决定扩充纺纱，向英国增订机器。九月初十日，织布局清花间失火，全厂付之一炬。十月，李鸿章派盛宣怀会同上海海关道聂缉椝负责恢复织布局，招募新股一百万两，在织布局旧址设厂，取名“华盛纺织总厂”。

中国历代封建王朝的末年，不堪战乱的普通百姓和权力失落的前朝贵族纷纷移居海外。由于地缘上的毗邻关系，东南亚成为中国移民的迁徙地和避难所。因此这种迁徙历史上称为“下南洋”。 　　走西口是“中国近代史上最著名的三次人口迁徙”之一，从明朝中期至民国初年四百余年的历史长河中，无数山西人背井离乡，打通了中原腹地与蒙古草原的经济和文化通道，带动了北部地区的繁荣和发展。 　　民间所说的“走西口”中的“西口”就是山西省朔州市右玉县杀虎口。走出这个西口，就到了昔日由山西人包揽经商天下的归化与绥远（统称归绥）、库伦和多伦、乌里雅苏台和科布多及新疆等地区。“杀虎口”还是通往蒙古恰克图和俄罗斯等地经商的重要商道。 　　闯关东，是悲壮的历史，是一次移民壮举。存在特定的“闯关东”路线以及“闯关东”的特定背景。因此，闯关东是一种社会历史移民现象，有自发的客观因素，有内在的政治影响深度。“山东人闯关东实质上是贫苦农民在死亡线上自发的不可遏止的悲壮的谋求生存的运动。

节目通过婚宴、周岁宴、成人宴、鹿鸣宴、军宴、寿宴等不同场景主题，将美食宴饮文化中的精彩切面整理展现，意图梳理出传统文化中宴饮的文化礼仪和仪式感，并链接当下找到宴饮文化的传承和发展。

节目通过婚宴、周岁宴、成人宴、鹿鸣宴、军宴、寿宴等不同场景主题，将美食宴饮文化中的精彩切面整理展现，意图梳理出传统文化中宴饮的文化礼仪和仪式感，并链接当下找到宴饮文化的传承和发展。