少年斯派维的奇异旅行 The Young and Prodigious T.S. Spivet (2013)【完整台词】
少年斯派维的奇异旅行 The Young and Prodigious T.S. Spivet (2013) 全部台词 (当前第1页,一共 8 页)
♪Subtitles: ANS,
corrected by♪ Asifakheir☻♥
The West
Our ranch was located several miles
north of Divide,
lost in the Pioneer Mountains.
The closest thing to traffic was
when the Union Pacific
Freight trains rumbled
through the valley, at 5:44 am
11:53 am,
5:15 pm.
Divide was literally located
on the continental divide.
To the east, the water spilled
into the Atlantic.
To the west, it spilled
into the Pacific.
One day my brother Layton and I,
decided to christen
this natural border.☻
Giddap, you little donkey!
Yee-haah!
Giddiup, horse!
Yaaah! Yahoo!
Layton, look over here.
Hello Big Sur!
Hello New Orleans!
Hello Big Sur!
And hello New Orleans!
Hello "Nawleans"!
But Layton's favourite pastime
was shooting at anything that moved.
Big loop.
Elbow up.
Ready?
Now!
Go! Yaah!
Stop!
Upon my brothers request,
father built us a seesaw.
Slow down!
Ride'em, cowboy.
My father loved Layton
more than anything in the world.
Yeah, that's a ood deal.
I would have liked
to be a daredevil, too.
But I knew I'd never be up to it.
One year earlier
Orffyreus had five marbles
travelling in tubes,
creating an imbalance.
This rocking motion, however,
caused the energy to dissipate.
Robert Flux built a mill
based on the concept
of perpetual rotation.
However the inherent friction of the machine
caused a significant loss of energy.
The Italian philosopher Marco Zimara
imagined a machine that could
recycle the wind.
But the force required
to compress the bellows
was greater than the energy
produced by the windmill.
And so, it didn't work.
No scientific challenge
remains greater,
most prestigious,
more mythical,
than that of finding the key to
perpetual motion.
Thank you.
And yet some affirm that
this quest is doomed to failure.
Such a machine defies the laws
of the universe.
The very basis of thermodynamics
assumes that
all mechanism will
eventually come to a stop.
Yes, you.
Given the current state of
Science and Technology,
isn't the quest for perpetual
motion better suited for
idealists and poets than
real scientists?
What if imagination started
and science ended?
Those who pushed the boundaries
of science, were they not all poets?
I'm certain that as we speak here today,
that somewhere in this country,
a budding Leonardo Da Vinci
is gearing up for the challenge.
Thank you very much.
Oh God...
Hello.
Sir, I am the Leonardo from Montana.
You are? What you are going to do?
I accept the challenge.
You do?
One afternoon in August,
the phone rang,
while my sister Gracie and I
were on the porch, shucking sweet corn
into large metal buckets.
What?
the buckets were riddled with
bite marks dating back to last spring
when our dog Tapioca got depressed
and started eating metal.
Hello.
Wow.
Gracie, can you hold this a second.
This is what I predicted.
The Manticora Herculeana
is a subspecies of the Cicindeler.
Who was it, that called?
Same time, it has a hair on
the tip of the mandible.
Doesn't seem to have a white spot
on the elytra.
Mom?
The phone, who was it?
Oh, a call for TS.
- A call for him?!
- M-hm. Yes Gracie.
- Who was it?
- Hm?
I don't know. Ah...
She's still in the line.
She's waiting.
You should probably go.
If you finish before I get back,
count the number of good ears
and the number of bad ones.
Why not count the kernels,
while we're at it?!
I had 3 options
to get to the phone.
The corridor-kitchen way,
the quickest
but also the most boring.
The upstairs-downstairs route,
but the shift in altitude
made me nauseous.
I opted for the third and
riskiest,
particularly when father was
working around the house.
The sitting room smelled like
whiskey stained leather.
and moldy photographs.
If you just closed your eyes,
you could feel the dust
falling onto the prairie
after a cowboy posse galloped through.
Layton used to think the sitting room,
was the greatest thing since
grilled cheese.
- Hello.
- Hello. Yes, um...
I would like to speak to T.S. Spivet,
this is Miss Jibsen,
Under Secretary of the Smithsonian.
Hold on.
Father!
Phone!
My father is all yours, Miss. Jibsen.
Hello, Mr. Spivet.
Yes, my dad is listening.
Could you hand him the phone please.
No, my father is mute, Mrs. Jibsen.
He can hear you but can only
respond in sign language.
I'll translate everything for you.
You are the T.S. Spivet
that has just invent the magnetic wheel?
One second. Father is saying...
Yes, I only sent you the blueprints,
because I didn't have the time to do it.
The quest for perpetual movement!
I mean, it's the Holy Grail
of inventors...
Tell me Mr.Spivet,
I take it you live in Montana?
Coppertop ranch.
Longitude: 112° 44' 19".
Latitude: 45° 44' 27".
These are the coordinates
to my bedroom.
Wow!
Clearly you have an eye for detail.
Which is a requisite for
any great inventor.
Father is asking:
so you are the head of the Smithsonian?
Well, technically,
I'm the Under Secretary, but,
many people would say I run the place.
Wow!
Yeah.
Look, Mr.Spivet, your invention
has won our prestigious Baird Award.
The Spencer Baird Award?
Indeed.
Our 150th anniversary gala
is in a week's time
and it would be perfect
oppurtunity for you to,
you know, make your
acceptance speech.
Of course, we would
provide you with a
sign language interpreter.
But... I'll be in class.
I go back to school on Monday.
Oh, you must teach at the
University of Montana.
A quick phone call to your
President, Jack Campbell,
and it'll be taken care of.
I mean,...
we are talking about
the Baird Award, after all.
Prairie of Truth
Mountain of Lies
Hello... Hello?
I was just thinking.
I can't come out to receive
the Baird award.
I have too much work to finish.
Thanks anyway.
Have a good day.
What are you doing?
What do you think I'm doing?
You're going to mess up my dataset.
corrected by♪ Asifakheir☻♥
The West
Our ranch was located several miles
north of Divide,
lost in the Pioneer Mountains.
The closest thing to traffic was
when the Union Pacific
Freight trains rumbled
through the valley, at 5:44 am
11:53 am,
5:15 pm.
Divide was literally located
on the continental divide.
To the east, the water spilled
into the Atlantic.
To the west, it spilled
into the Pacific.
One day my brother Layton and I,
decided to christen
this natural border.☻
Giddap, you little donkey!
Yee-haah!
Giddiup, horse!
Yaaah! Yahoo!
Layton, look over here.
Hello Big Sur!
Hello New Orleans!
Hello Big Sur!
And hello New Orleans!
Hello "Nawleans"!
But Layton's favourite pastime
was shooting at anything that moved.
Big loop.
Elbow up.
Ready?
Now!
Go! Yaah!
Stop!
Upon my brothers request,
father built us a seesaw.
Slow down!
Ride'em, cowboy.
My father loved Layton
more than anything in the world.
Yeah, that's a ood deal.
I would have liked
to be a daredevil, too.
But I knew I'd never be up to it.
One year earlier
Orffyreus had five marbles
travelling in tubes,
creating an imbalance.
This rocking motion, however,
caused the energy to dissipate.
Robert Flux built a mill
based on the concept
of perpetual rotation.
However the inherent friction of the machine
caused a significant loss of energy.
The Italian philosopher Marco Zimara
imagined a machine that could
recycle the wind.
But the force required
to compress the bellows
was greater than the energy
produced by the windmill.
And so, it didn't work.
No scientific challenge
remains greater,
most prestigious,
more mythical,
than that of finding the key to
perpetual motion.
Thank you.
And yet some affirm that
this quest is doomed to failure.
Such a machine defies the laws
of the universe.
The very basis of thermodynamics
assumes that
all mechanism will
eventually come to a stop.
Yes, you.
Given the current state of
Science and Technology,
isn't the quest for perpetual
motion better suited for
idealists and poets than
real scientists?
What if imagination started
and science ended?
Those who pushed the boundaries
of science, were they not all poets?
I'm certain that as we speak here today,
that somewhere in this country,
a budding Leonardo Da Vinci
is gearing up for the challenge.
Thank you very much.
Oh God...
Hello.
Sir, I am the Leonardo from Montana.
You are? What you are going to do?
I accept the challenge.
You do?
One afternoon in August,
the phone rang,
while my sister Gracie and I
were on the porch, shucking sweet corn
into large metal buckets.
What?
the buckets were riddled with
bite marks dating back to last spring
when our dog Tapioca got depressed
and started eating metal.
Hello.
Wow.
Gracie, can you hold this a second.
This is what I predicted.
The Manticora Herculeana
is a subspecies of the Cicindeler.
Who was it, that called?
Same time, it has a hair on
the tip of the mandible.
Doesn't seem to have a white spot
on the elytra.
Mom?
The phone, who was it?
Oh, a call for TS.
- A call for him?!
- M-hm. Yes Gracie.
- Who was it?
- Hm?
I don't know. Ah...
She's still in the line.
She's waiting.
You should probably go.
If you finish before I get back,
count the number of good ears
and the number of bad ones.
Why not count the kernels,
while we're at it?!
I had 3 options
to get to the phone.
The corridor-kitchen way,
the quickest
but also the most boring.
The upstairs-downstairs route,
but the shift in altitude
made me nauseous.
I opted for the third and
riskiest,
particularly when father was
working around the house.
The sitting room smelled like
whiskey stained leather.
and moldy photographs.
If you just closed your eyes,
you could feel the dust
falling onto the prairie
after a cowboy posse galloped through.
Layton used to think the sitting room,
was the greatest thing since
grilled cheese.
- Hello.
- Hello. Yes, um...
I would like to speak to T.S. Spivet,
this is Miss Jibsen,
Under Secretary of the Smithsonian.
Hold on.
Father!
Phone!
My father is all yours, Miss. Jibsen.
Hello, Mr. Spivet.
Yes, my dad is listening.
Could you hand him the phone please.
No, my father is mute, Mrs. Jibsen.
He can hear you but can only
respond in sign language.
I'll translate everything for you.
You are the T.S. Spivet
that has just invent the magnetic wheel?
One second. Father is saying...
Yes, I only sent you the blueprints,
because I didn't have the time to do it.
The quest for perpetual movement!
I mean, it's the Holy Grail
of inventors...
Tell me Mr.Spivet,
I take it you live in Montana?
Coppertop ranch.
Longitude: 112° 44' 19".
Latitude: 45° 44' 27".
These are the coordinates
to my bedroom.
Wow!
Clearly you have an eye for detail.
Which is a requisite for
any great inventor.
Father is asking:
so you are the head of the Smithsonian?
Well, technically,
I'm the Under Secretary, but,
many people would say I run the place.
Wow!
Yeah.
Look, Mr.Spivet, your invention
has won our prestigious Baird Award.
The Spencer Baird Award?
Indeed.
Our 150th anniversary gala
is in a week's time
and it would be perfect
oppurtunity for you to,
you know, make your
acceptance speech.
Of course, we would
provide you with a
sign language interpreter.
But... I'll be in class.
I go back to school on Monday.
Oh, you must teach at the
University of Montana.
A quick phone call to your
President, Jack Campbell,
and it'll be taken care of.
I mean,...
we are talking about
the Baird Award, after all.
Prairie of Truth
Mountain of Lies
Hello... Hello?
I was just thinking.
I can't come out to receive
the Baird award.
I have too much work to finish.
Thanks anyway.
Have a good day.
What are you doing?
What do you think I'm doing?
You're going to mess up my dataset.
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