接受不完美 將其變成財富

Accept Your Lack of Knowledge and Use It as Your Asset

A couple of years ago， I went to Tokyo with my husband and I ate at the most remarkable sushi restaurant. I don’t even eat fish， I am 1）vegan， so that tells you how good it was. Even with just vegetables， this sushi was the stuff you dream about. The restaurant had six seats. My husband and I marveled at how anyone could make rice so 2）superior to all other rice. We wondered why they didn’t make a bigger restaurant and be the most popular place in town. Our local friends explained to us that all the best restaurants in Tokyo are that small and do only one type of dish： sushi or 3）tempura or 4）teriyaki. Because they want to do that thing well and beautifully. And it’s not about quantity. It’s about taking pleasure in the perfection and beauty of the particular.

In my professional life， it also took me time to find my own reasons for doing my work. The first film I was in came out in 1994. I was 13 years old upon the film’s release， and I can still quote what the New York Times said about me 5）verbatim： “Ms. Portman poses better than she acts.” The film had a universally 6）tepid critical response and went on to bomb commercially. That film was called The Professional. And today， 20 years and 35 films later， it is still the film people approach me about the most to tell me how much they loved it， how much it moved them， how it’s their favorite movie. I feel lucky that my first experience of releasing a film was initially such a disaster by all standard measures. I learned early that my meaning had to be from the experience of making the film and the possibility of connecting with individuals rather than the 7）foremost trophies in my industry： financial and critical success. And also that those initial reactions could be 1 predictors of your work’s ultimate legacy. I started choosing only jobs I was passionate about and from which I knew I could 8）glean meaningful experiences. This thoroughly confused everyone around me： agents， producers， and audiences alike.

I made 9）Goya’s Ghost， a foreign independent film and studied art history， visiting the 10）Prado everyday for four months as I read about Goya and the 11）Spanish Inquisition. I made V for Vendetta， a studio action movie for which I learned everything I could about freedom fighters who， in other eyes， might be called terrorists， from 12）Menachem Begin to the 13）Weather Underground. I made Your Highness， a 14）pothead comedy with Danny McBride and laughed for three months straight. I was able to own my meaning and not have it be determined by box office receipts or prestige.

By the time I got to making Black Swan， the experience was entirely my own. I felt immune to the worst things anyone could say or write about me， and to whether the audience felt like going to see my movie or not. It was 15）instructive for me to see that for ballet dancers once your technique gets to a certain level， the only thing that separates you from others is your 16）quirks or even flaws. One 17）ballerina was famous for how she turned slightly off-balance. You can never be the best technically. Someone will always have a higher jump or a more beautiful line. The only thing you can be the best at is developing your own self. Authoring your own experience was very much what Black Swan itself was about. I worked with Darren Aronofsky， the film’s director， to change my last line in the movie to “It was perfect.”because my character Nina is only artistically successful when she finds perfection and pleasure for herself， not when she’s trying to be perfect in the eyes of others. So when Black Swan was successful financially and I began receiving 18）accolades， I felt honored and grateful to have connected with people. But the true core of my meaning I had already established. And I needed it to be independent of people’s reactions to me. People told me that Black Swan was an artistic risk， a scary challenge to try to portray a professional ballet dancer. But it didn’t feel like courage or daring that drew me to it. I was so 19）oblivious to my own limits that I did things I was 20）woefully unprepared to do. And so the very inexperience that in college had made me feel insecure and made me want to play by others’ rules now was making me actually take risks I didn’t even realize were risks. But the point is if I had known my own limitations， I never would have taken the risk. And the risk led to one of my greatest artistic and personal experiences.

Similarly， I just directed my first film， A Tale of Love and Darkness， and was quite blind to the challenges ahead of me. The film is a period film， completely in Hebrew， in which I also act with an eight-year-old child as a costar. All of these are challenges I should have been terrified of， as I was completely unprepared for them， but my complete ignorance to my own limitations looked like confidence and got me into the director’s chair. Once there， I had to figure it all out， and my belief that I could handle these things contrary to all evidence of my ability to do so was half the battle. The other half was very hard work. The experience was the deepest and most meaningful one of my career. Now clearly I am not urging you to go perform heart surgery without the knowledge to do so！ Making movies， 21）admittedly， has less drastic consequences than most professions and allows for a lot of effects that make up for mistakes. The thing I’m saying is， make use of the fact that you don’t doubt yourself too much right now. As we get older we get more realistic， and that includes about our own abilities or lack thereof， and that realism does us no favors.

People always talk about diving into things you’re afraid of. That never worked for me. If I’m afraid， I run away. And I would probably urge my child to do the same. Fear protects us in many ways. What has served me is diving into my own obliviousness. Your inexperience is an asset， and will allow you to think in original， unconventional ways. Accept your lack of knowledge and use it as your asset. The only way you know how to do things is your own way. You here will all go on to achieve great things. There is no doubt about that. Each time you set out to do something new， your inexperience can either lead you down a path where you will conform to someone’s else values， or you can forge your own path， even if you don’t realize that’s what you’re doing. If your reasons are your own， your path， even if it’s a strange and clumsy path， will be wholly yours. And you will control the rewards of what you do by making your internal life fulfilling.

幾年前，我跟丈夫去了趟東京，曾在一家最美味的壽司餐廳用餐。我不吃魚，是一名嚴格的素食主義者。僅從這一點，你們就可以知道那里的東西該有多好吃了。即便只是蔬菜，那壽司都是夢幻般的美味。這家餐廳只有六個座位。我和我丈夫很驚訝，怎么有人能把米飯做得如此超絕。我們納悶他們為何不擴大規模，做成全城最火爆的餐館。當地的朋友跟我們解釋：東京所有最棒的餐廳都這么小，而且只做一種料理——壽司或天婦羅或照燒，因為他們想要把食物做得美味出色，其關鍵不在數量，而在于享受追求那道料理至善至美過程中的愉悅。

在我的職業生涯中，我也花了許多時間尋找自己拍電影的原因。我的第一部電影在1994年上映，當時我才13歲，至今我仍能一字不差地重復《紐約時報》對我的評價：“波特曼小姐擺造型的功力比演戲強得多?！边@部電影得到的評價普遍都不溫不火，在商業上則是慘敗。這部電影正是《這個殺手不太冷》。如今，20年過去了，我拍了35部電影，可它仍是人們見到我時最常提及的片子。他們告訴我他們多愛這片子，這片子多么感人，說這是他們最愛的電影。以所有的衡量標準來看，我首次參演的電影在上映之初都是一場災難，這讓我感到很幸運，因為這讓我很早就認識到，我的價值應該源于電影拍攝過程的體驗，源于與觀眾的共鳴，而不是我們這一行最重要的戰利品：商業和影評方面的成功。而且，影片最初得到的反響可能是對其最終影響力的錯誤預測?！?br>