In 1961, Stanislaw Rozewicz created the novella film "Birth Certificate" in cooperation with his brother, Taduesz Rozewicz as screenwriter. Such brother tandems are rare in the history of film but aside from family ties, Stanislaw (born in 1924) and Taduesz (born in 1921) were mutually bound by their love for the cinema. They were born and grew up in Radomsk, a small town which had "its madmen and its saints" and most importanly, the "Kinema" cinema, as Stanislaw recalls: for him cinema is "heaven, the whole world, enchantment". Tadeusz says he considers cinema both a charming market stall and a mysterious temple. "All this savage land has always attracted and fascinated me," he says. "I am devoured by cinema and I devour cinema; I'm a cinema eater." But Taduesz Rozewicz, an eminent writer, admits this unique form of cooperation was a problem to him: "It is the presence of the other person not only in the process of writing, but at its very core, which is inserperable for me from absolute solitude." Some scenes the brothers wrote together; others were created by the writer himself, following discussions with the director. But from the perspective of time, it is "Birth Certificate", rather than "Echo" or "The Wicked Gate", that Taduesz describes as his most intimate film. This is understandable. The tradgey from September 1939 in Poland was for the Rozewicz brothers their personal "birth certificate". When working on the film, the director said "This time it is all about shaking off, getting rid of the psychological burden which the war was for all of us. ... Cooperation with my brother was in this case easier, as we share many war memories. We wanted to show to adult viewers a picture of war as seen by a child. ... In reality, it is the adults who created the real world of massacres. Children beheld the horrors coming back to life, exhumed from underneath the ground, overwhelming the earth."
The principle of composition of "Birth Certificate" is not obvious. When watching a novella film, we tend to think in terms of traditional theatre. We expect that a miniature story will finish with a sharp point; the three film novellas in Rozewicz's work lack this feature. We do not know what will be happen to the boy making his alone through the forest towards the end of "On the Road". We do not know whether in "Letter from the Camp", the help offered by the small heroes to a Soviet prisoner will rescue him from the unknown fate of his compatriots. The fate of the Jewish girl from "Drop of Blood" is also unclear. Will she keep her new impersonation as "Marysia Malinowska"? Or will the Nazis make her into a representative of the "Nordic race"? Those questions were asked by the director for a reason. He preceived war as chaos and perdition, and not as linear history that could be reflected in a plot. Although "Birth Certificate" is saturated with moral content, it does not aim to be a morality play. But with the immense pressure of reality, no varient of fate should be excluded. This approached can be compared wth Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Blind Chance" 25 years later, which pictured dramatic choices of a different era.
The film novella "On the Road" has a very sparing plot, but it drew special attention of the reviewers. The ominating overtone of the war films created by the Polish Film School at that time should be kept in mind. Mainly owing to Wajda, those films dealt with romantic heritage. They were permeated with pathos, bitterness, and irony. Rozewicz is an extraordinary artist. When narrating a story about a boy lost in a war zone, carrying some documents from the regiment office as if they were a treasure, the narrator in "On the Road" discovers rough prose where one should find poetry. And suddenly, the irrational touches this rather tame world. The boy, who until that moment resembled a Polish version of the Good Soldier Schweik, sets off, like Don Quixote, for his first and last battle. A critic described it as "an absurd gesture and someone else could surely use it to criticise the Polish style of dying. ... But the Rozewicz brothers do no accuse: they only compose an elegy for the picturesque peasant-soldier, probably the most important veteran of the Polish war of 1939-1945." "Birth Certificate" is not a lofty statement about national imponderabilia. The film reveals a plebeian perspective which Aleksander Jackieqicz once contrasted with those "lyrical lamentations" inherent in the Kordian tradition. However, a historical overview of Rozewicz's work shows that the distinctive style does not signify a fundamental difference in illustrating the Polish September. Just as the memorable scene from Wajda's "Lotna" was in fact an expression of desperation and distress, the same emotions permeate the final scene of "Birth Certificate". These are not ideological concepts, though once described as such and fervently debated, but rather psychological creations. In this specific case, observes Witold Zalewski, it is not about manifesting knightly pride, but about a gesture of a simple man who does not agree to be enslaved.
The novella "Drop of Blood" is, with Aleksander Ford's "Border Street", one of the first narrations of the fate of the Polish Jews during the Nazi occupation. The story about a girl literally looking for her place on earth has a dramatic dimension. Especially in the age of today's journalistic disputes, often manipulative, lacking in empathy and imbued with bad will, Rozewicz's story from the past shocks with its authenticity. The small herione of the story is the only one who survives a German raid on her family home. Physical survial does not, however, mean a return to normality. Her frightened departure from the rubbish dump that was her hideout lead her to a ruined apartment. Her walk around it is painful because still fresh signs of life are mixed with evidence of annihilation. Help is needed, but Mirka does not know anyone in the outside world. Her subsequent attempts express the state of the fugitive's spirits - from hope and faith, moving to doubt, a sense of oppression, and thickening fear, and finally to despair.
At the same time, the Jewish girl's search for refuge resembles the state of Polish society. The appearance of Mirka results in confusion, and later, trouble. This was already signalled by Rozewicz in an exceptional scene from "Letter from the Camp" in which the boy's neighbour, seeing a fugitive Russian soldier, retreats immediately, admitting that "Now, people worry only about themselves." Such embarassing excuses mask fear. During the occupation, no one feels safe. Neither social status not the aegis of a charity organisation protects against repression. We see the potential guardians of Mirka passing her back and forth among themselves. These are friendly hands but they cannot offer strong support. The story takes place on that thin line between solidarity and heroism. Solidarity arises spontaneously, but only some are capable of heroism. Help for the girl does not always result from compassion; sometimes it is based on past relations and personal ties (a neighbour of the doctor takes in the fugitive for a few days because of past friendship). Rozewicz portrays all of this in a subtle way; even the smallest gesture has significance. Take, for example, the conversation with a stranger on the train: short, as if jotted down on the margin, but so full of tension. And earlier, a peculiar examination of Polishness: the "Holy Father" prayer forced on Mirka by the village boys to check that she is not a Jew. Would not rising to the challenge mean a death sentance?
Viewed after many years, "Birth Certificate" discloses yet another quality that is not present in the works of the Polish School, but is prominent in later B-class war films. This is the picture of everyday life during the war and occupation outlined in the three novellas. It harmonises with the logic of speaking about "life after life". Small heroes of Rozewicz suddenly enter the reality of war, with no experience or scale with which to compare it. For them, the present is a natural extension of and at the same time a complete negation of the past. Consider the sleey small-town marketplace, through which armoured columns will shortly pass. Or meet the German motorcyclists, who look like aliens from outer space - a picture taken from an autopsy because this is how Stanislaw and Taduesz perceived the first Germans they ever met. Note the blurred silhouettes of people against a white wall who are being shot - at first they are shocking, but soon they will probably become a part of the grim landscape. In the city centre stands a prisoner camp on a sodden bog ("People perish likes flies; the bodies are transported during the night"); in the street the childern are running after a coal wagon to collect some precious pieces of fuel. There's a bustle around some food (a boy reproaches his younger brother's actions by singing: "The warrant officer's son is begging in front of the church? I'm going to tell mother!"); and the kitchen, which one evening becomes the proscenium of a real drama. And there are the symbols: a bar of chocolate forced upon a boy by a Wehrmacht soldier ("On the Road"); a pair of shoes belonging to Zbyszek's father which the boy spontaneously gives to a Russian fugitive; a priceless slice of bread, ground under the heel of a policeman in the guter ("Letters from the Camp"). As the director put it: "In every film, I communicate my own vision of the world and of the people. Only then the style follows, the defined way of experiencing things." In Birth Certificate, he adds, his approach was driven by the subject: "I attempted to create not only the texture of the document but also to add some poetic element. I know it is risky but as for the merger of documentation and poety, often hidden very deep, if only it manages to make its way onto the screen, it results in what can referred to as 'art'."
After 1945, there were numerous films created in Europe that dealt with war and children, including "Somewhere in Europe" ("Valahol Europaban", 1947 by Geza Radvanyi), "Shoeshine" ("Sciescia", 1946 by Vittorio de Sica), and "Childhood of Ivan" ("Iwanowo dietstwo" by Andriej Tarkowski). Yet there were fewer than one would expect. Pursuing a subject so imbued with sentimentalism requires stylistic disipline and a special ability to manage child actors. The author of "Birth Certificate" mastered both - and it was not by chance. Stanislaw Rozewicz was always the beneficent spirit of the film milieu; he could unite people around a common goal. He emanated peace and sensitivity, which flowed to his co-workers and pupils. A film, being a group work, necessitates some form of empathy - tuning in with others.
In a biographical documentary about Stanislaw Rozewicz entitled "Walking, Meeting" (1999 by Antoni Krauze), there is a beautiful scene when the director, after a few decades, meets Beata Barszczewska, who plays Mireczka in the novella "Drops of Blood". The woman falls into the arms of the elderly man. They are both moved. He wonders how many years have passed. She answers: "A few years. Not too many." And Rozewicz, with his characteristic smile says: "It is true. We spent this entire time together."
像是谁记忆中无数片段的总和，太过私人化，碎片化，欣赏不来，也不知道在讲什么，想表达什么。
“我已经尽力了，我不认为自己做的很差。”
以为是马拉多纳的生平传记原来是个青春期成长故事（奶奶好酷哦 意大利美女真多 最后和导演那段对吼很有戏剧性啊好喜欢
真诚吗？倒像是层层包裹的漠然 不过你记得就好 @Hannover
3.5⭐，那不勒斯好美，好想去啊~非常费里尼了~融入了导演的乡愁有种半自传体的感觉~前半段很有意思，后半段略松散~
很精彩很好看，好的部分非常好——除了有的部分特别拉垮非同一般地拉垮，看着看着突然跳戏了跳到郭敬明片场，又跳回来，又跳到郭片场；这使得整个看片体验情绪非常无法连贯。细节（很多地方）做的很好，但是有不少部分的节奏和转折又是一团浆糊。到底是为什么啊？？？（为了那些很好看的部分还是给四星（虽然还是有点气
每个人一生只会讲述一种故事，大多与故乡与童年有关
青春期对男性崇拜，对女性渴望，梦想与女人成为他们生活的全部，后来男性却只是虚幻的梦，让人孤独，在宿命中推向人生路口，初潮是女性带给的新生。“为什么要拍电影？”“为什么要离开故乡？”一次自我拷问，回溯自己人生至痛时刻。这是今年最男孩气的电影。
#观影手记# 2312 4.5
小时候常常陪爸看老马进球集锦，所以看到世纪球王撑起一座城的回忆有些共情。故事很富有个人感情但感觉深度上有所保留，从景深构图上也能看出法比奥逐渐被孤立的过程。最喜欢跟卡布阿诺最后那段对话
索伦蒂诺的私电影，原本以为会是马拉多纳的记录片来着www
和《罗马》《南方》一样，很私人的影像。那些丧失后的感伤，求而不得的失落，和青春时的我们一模一样。
那不勒斯阳光灿烂的日子。悲伤来临的时候，命运的齿轮开始转动，你就长大了。
Antonio Capuano与法比奥的那段对话，生动地阐释了什么叫做自我致敬。
马拉多纳和电影的那不勒斯，我的那不勒斯。兜兜转转最终还是逃离，并努力让梦想继续。影子不少，但对人物情绪和生活滋味处理略平庸，还无法让观者也完全陷进去。
作者回头处理了少年自我与时代偶像的关系，通过身边人施加的影响解释过往自我各种选择……没有避忌欲望、模仿的冲动，而最终它们化为令法比托感受残酷现实的源泉动力，因此能呈现出复杂。相较具有类似小镇青年出走的剧情走向的《浪荡儿》来说，复杂的成长意味替代了悲悯与离愁。也许可惜的是千百味私人情感也很难填补后者的缺失，但与一个拥有「上帝之手」的时代对位的个体故事，呈现复杂是一种必然……吧。或因为始终克制的镜头运动与情感的复杂性无法带来当下共情，但这样的片子在之后的悠长体验中再被勾起是免不了了。
展望过去同时也想让观众代入过去，但这私人么？人生中拍的每部电影不需要全部是绝对的诗意。大家都活得这么认真，有意思么？
像去了趟意大利……这部真的像看了部小说一样丰富
索伦蒂诺的那不勒斯美丽传说，宛如阿玛柯德之于费里尼，痛苦与荣耀之于阿莫多瓦，罗马之于阿方索，长日将尽之于戴维斯，相比这些伟大而又同样优秀的同行与前辈，索伦蒂诺电影独有的魅力，仍是他秉持了身为意大利最佳旅游宣传大使的创编能力，这座静谧而又活力四射的地中海城市，在陪伴少年体验成长酸甜之余，也让异国观者无比神往，正如片尾Pino Daniele的那首Napule è在索伦蒂诺的耳畔与记忆里回响：那不勒斯是一千种颜色，那不勒斯是一千种恐惧，那不勒斯是孩子们慢慢扬起的声音，你知道你并不孤单。是啊，只要一日有乡愁，我们就都不会孤单
3.5⭐，那不勒斯好美，好想去啊~非常费里尼了~融入了导演的乡愁有种半自传体的感觉~前半段很有意思，后半段略松散~
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