美國“狗仔隊之父”羅恩·格拉拉（上）

Paparazzo，“帕帕垃圾”，意大利語，指一種會嗡嗡叫、惹人煩的蚊子。1960年，費德里柯·費里尼大師的電影《甜蜜生活》中有一個專門拍攝明星私生活的攝影記者，就叫“Paparazzo”。從此，這個名字就專門用來稱呼那些讓名人討厭的小報攝影記者。在國內(nèi)，這一職業(yè)則被稱為“狗仔”。

羅恩·格拉拉，上世紀七八十年代美國最著名的狗仔隊員，曾因偷拍好萊塢明星馬龍·白蘭度而被打掉5顆牙齒，因長期跟蹤拍攝當(dāng)時的“第一夫人”杰奎琳·奧納西斯而被告上法庭……他雖是一個臭名昭著的攝影師，但總能抓拍到明星們最光彩照人的一瞬間，他的圖片里蘊藏的巨大能量能塑造明星，這種獨有的才華也為他贏得了知名度。但格拉拉始終認為，自己和那些潛入明星臥室或故意激怒明星以求拍到他們丑態(tài)的狗仔隊員不同。今年77歲的格拉拉隱居在新澤西州郊區(qū)，如今他正為當(dāng)下狗仔行業(yè)中的一些危險跡象感到憂慮。

I first meet Ron Galella when I break into his home. The notorious 1)paparazzo and his wife， Betty， live in a 2)neoclassical megamansion in rural New Jersey. There’s a white marble fountain out front; columns frame the door. At the base of the stairs is a 3)slab of concrete imprinted， Hollywood Walk of Fame style， with Galella’s handprints and his looping signature. I walk up and ring the doorbell several times， but it seems to be broken， so I yell， “Hello?” and finally turn the knob and open the door one hesitant crack. The first thing I see are rows of bright blue eyes.

[1]Elizabeth Taylor. [2]Barbra Streisand.

[3]Robert Redford. There are 10 or so black-and-white pictures， their 4)irises tinted， propped carefully on large easels—a gallery of iconic celebrity.

Suddenly， Galella appears， carrying a photo tripod that he uses as a crutch; he’s recently had knee surgery. “Hello， hello， come in!” he barks， friendly but gruff. Even at 77， Galella is a physically imposing man， with thick features， a 5)boxer’s nose and a 6)staccato laugh. We walk past the carpet and the mantelpiece toward the dining-room table， which is covered in a shining 7)mulch of books and prints.

We sit in the kitchen， and Galella reminisces happily with me about the good old days， back when he turned his lens towards Hollywood. The son of Italian immigrants， Galella first got his hands on a camera when he was in the Air Force， during the Korean War， and along with it he bought a book called How to Shoot Glamour. In art school under the 8)GI Bill， he toyed with becoming a ceramicist or a dance instructor. But Galella was eternally drawn towards the famous—he was curious， he says， to test the stars， to see if their glamour was real. The truth， he decided， was that anyone could become iconic; the camera itself was the true celebrity， a “magic medium” to which the famous owed their power.

His first big sell was a simple picture of a little girl—he’d tried to capture actress [4]June Lockhart’s daughter， but couldn’t get permission， so he shot a different child instead， earning $62. “But once I found celebrity journalism， I plied my know-how，” Galella says with satisfaction. “For a take of Elizabeth Taylor or [5]The Lennon Sisters， you could get $1，000 from these magazines. 9)Photoplay， 10)Modern Screen and the 11)National Enquirer， of course.” In those days， Hollywood photography was dominated by the glamour shot， that 12)lacquered 13)residue of American PR machinery. Galella embraced instead the piratical spirit of the Europeans， adding a certain entrepreneurial zeal all of his own， blending high-art skills with a dedication that bordered on monomania.

In 1978， he had already established himself as the dread paparazzo of his era—not the only one， but certainly the most famous， the most dogged.

[6]Richard Burton sent 14)goons to steal his film; [7]Brigitte Bardot had her boyfriend hose him down. Most notoriously， [8]Jacqueline Onassis won a lawsuit against him in 1973， a court order for him to stay 25 feet away from her and her children. For years， he drove each day from the Bronx， where he had built a lab in his father’s basement， to premieres， galleries， 15)Park Avenue. “In 1967， I got Jacqueline at the Wildenstein Gallery. I followed her to her apartment， and once you know where they live， that’s where you have to be. They’re like a mouse coming out of a hole.”

In those days， Galella was regarded as a bug， a parasite. (The word paparazzo is derived from an Italian word for mosquito.) But from Galella’s perspective， he was always misunderstood. His art was a corrective to the artifice of the star system. It was a kind of forced 16)Turing test of celebrity， determining whether the star is human. Only by seeing someone shocked and spontaneous can you tell if their charisma is genuine. “I’m very quick， that was the technique: fast-shoot， fast-shoot! I don’t even look through the viewfinder. And you 17)nail the picture like that， you get the surprise expression. Beauty that radiates from within.”

Galella talks to me about his favourite， most iconic photo， Windblown Jacqueline， an image of Jacqueline Onassis striding down the street， her hair blowing into her eyes as she turns her face， smiling， toward him—she didn’t realise Galella was there when she turned toward his cab’s honking horn. “I call it the Mona Lisa smile.”

Galella is eager to distinguish himself from the more aggressive breed of paparazzo—both the

old-style European photographers willing to break into a star’s bedroom and the new generation，

zooming in on 18)cellulite and bad plastic surgery. That wasn’t his style， he says. He’d hover， chatting up doormen， improvising with a combination of

19)brass and discretion. Still， he found plenty of

violence. In 1973， he followed [9]Marlon Brando down to Chinatown， only to have Brando punch out five of his teeth (Brando had to go to hospital with an infected hand). The two settled out of court， and later Galella returned to shoot the actor wearing a special football helmet， with Ron printed on the front.

…

我第一次見到羅恩·格拉拉是在闖入他家后。這位臭名昭著的狗仔隊員和他的妻子貝蒂住在新澤西州郊區(qū)一幢新古典主義風(fēng)格的豪宅里。門前有一個白色大理石噴泉，大門嵌上羅馬石柱邊框。石階最底部是一塊厚厚的水泥板，上面有格拉拉的手印和龍飛鳳舞式的簽名，很有好萊塢星光大道的風(fēng)格。我走上前，按了幾次門鈴，但門鈴好像壞了。于是我扯開嗓子大叫：“喂？喂？”我終于扭開門把手，猶豫地打開了一條縫隙。第一眼看見的就是一排排炯炯有神的藍眼睛，包括伊麗莎白·泰勒、芭芭拉·史翠珊和羅伯