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."
对这种电影没有耐心，抱歉。影像如果不是黑白的，估计会整个看起来像电视电影（。）好白，好男，连政治都没有想好好讲--肯尼斯布拉纳的导演作品绝对不会让你失望，因为它们都无趣得相似。
说“花里胡哨”“平庸”“糖霜”的人真是让我感觉蛋疼，甚至很反感，就是一圈评论家，在炫耀强烈的自我中心罢了。简单点好吧。我还是当做文学作品来阅读，我看到了一样东西——人的腿，那种细长的小腿，延伸到稍粗但有力健壮的大腿。哦对了，有力，是因为这些颀长的细肢带着这里的人在不停地运动着。他们在干什么呢？？？走。没错，不停地走动，整个电影充斥着不停运动着的片段，在街道上，在小门前，在小屋里。那种细长的运动感，我觉得是一种强烈的暗示，他们要走。不管来源于北爱尔兰人的本性，生活的状态，还是特殊的社会现实，他们的命运似乎充满着“走”。我不想做什么文学分析了，太累，我只自我中心地说一句，我是对的，没看最后一句话吗？朱迪·丹奇对着那辆离去的大巴告诫着什么呢：“走，现在就走！”
能有机会与资源为自己、家人、家乡拍这样一部电影，无论如何是值得羡慕的。影像、节奏、音乐的选择都精心设计过。精致，精致略过。从电影里第一次了解到新教“到底怎么看天主教”，也回忆起以前看过的好些关于北爱尔兰的片子。不知道那个地方现在如何了。电影总体还行，不过它对于导演本人的意义应该大于对于大众的。
36/365 清明节看一部阴间电影达成✔️ 歌好听詹米多南帅 勉强能看下来
装备不错，哈哈哈。低幼里面又有些不一样的东西，确实有电影的画面和赶脚了，还不错，比上一部好看。
非常适合小朋友看的一部电影，大人陪着看也不会太无聊。我最喜欢毛毛！
从头到尾看得津津有味
导演只是想拍一个童年回忆，为什么要求他处理北爱极其复杂的政治和宗教冲突，当然他也处理不了
节奏并不太吸引人，但是用了很多有趣的句子、经典的歌曲和感人的镜头去吸引人。
🎬
第一次全家出动！虽然没穿制服的chase 俺都没认出来😅，从成人角度也无法完全欣赏各种夸张的剧情，但孩子们看的蛮开心，可能也是因为全程在吃爆米花😆感觉国外动画很强调克服个体内心的脆弱。Even heroes get scared, they just push through. 大人孩子都能汲取一些正能量
狗狗很可爱，但是有些地方太离谱了，，，，我和同学说，这个狗飞过去一定是要靠勇气不靠别的，这就是他最大的buff，结果真就靠勇气过去了
剧情就是电视剧的加长版，可能由于是儿童电影，怕小朋友们坐不住，片场仅1小时多一点，结束还有种意犹未尽的感觉。画面很精良，狗狗车子真的无敌炫。
离开这里。
这分明是一部想学习他人的颁奖季正确答案，然后在自我平淡如水的记忆里苦苦寻找冲突和drama的烂作：一直在被按照骗子/浪荡子/渣男塑造的父亲口中的伦敦带花园大房子居然是真的，从贝尔法斯特的内战区搬到伦敦的肯尼斯·布拉纳，居然在那儿谈乡愁——
乱世中相亲相爱的一家人，有些东西总是能让人在失望中撑下去，小男孩让人想起四百击，音乐有趣。
“For the ones who stayed. For the ones who left. And for all the ones who were lost.”故乡这两个字，无论最后扎根在哪里，都是不一般的份量。那些熟悉的一草一木、楼房街景，甚至于讨厌的邻里和八卦，在走之前和走了后都是会想念、留恋与不舍的。但就如片中老一辈所说的那样，“There were no roads to Shangri la from our part of Belfast.”“Get yourself to the moon. ”
805｜1.5，从来没见过哪个导演在第一场戏就把自己的缺点自信地暴露出来。航拍和慢镜头太掉价了，机位也是随心而动，加上莫名其妙的黑白（黑白与彩色的转换更是令人摸不着头脑），光从摄影一个层面就暴露了肯尼思·布拉纳愚蠢、自恋而不自知的对视听语言的理解。剧本层面也非常平庸，对于回忆的描写只能用寡淡来形容，不断重复Belfast 只会让人觉得这个写剧本的人水平太低。《罗马》里有一直在重复自己的家乡吗？我都不好意思拿《罗马》和这片比，真是一个天堂一个地狱。唯一值得称道的可能是演员的演技。
一部《人的迁徙》。多数电影聚焦移民以后的生活，《贝尔法斯特》则关注决定移民前的犹豫和挣扎。感动都来自我个人非常相似的经历，哭瞎了，评分很私人。
“好”与“不好”可能在此处不是一个评价自传体乡愁电影的标准，导演能自我感动和自我沉醉就很好。打四星因为我对那地方有滤镜，就这样。
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