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."
北爱尔兰新教徒主题和孩童成长怀旧风格很讨喜，但是具体进入到片中后，只会觉得一切都太predictable了，不如再去看看《无线电时代》...
像是《罗马》但又不一样 相同的可能都只是导演对童年的怀念 一开始的空镜我好喜欢 虽然故事不太吸引我可是画面很喜欢
看了后悔的程度。肯尼斯布拉纳先生，您不会演也就罢了，现在连导也不会了吗？尽管剧情并不累赘，但这一个小时四十分钟的电影依旧显得无比漫长，节奏实在太差劲了。大多数情况下的黑白和彩色的转变都没有意义，所谓“电影艺术照亮动荡生活”的观点根本不需要这么表达。情绪破碎，故事刻意，仿佛揪着观众领子强迫大家认同这是一部【冲奖】片一样。
看的时候我其实不知道当时发生了什么，也不想追究英国当年有着什么样的社会问题，只是觉得故土难离、亲情爱情、两小无猜和思想双标在哪里、在哪个时代、在不同肤色种族之间都是永恒的话题，可能正是这些定义了我们是什么样的人。2000年以前的时光过的也很慢，伴随大规模拆迁也有不断迁徙的人，就像北京旧城改造前，就像三峡大坝修建前…然而时代的滚滚车轮不会扭过来回头看，回过头来的总是那近乡情更怯的灵魂，为了一切忘却的纪念~
可以不喜欢，但一些评论的无知让人遗憾。
正巧前两天去过贝尔法斯特 市政厅的名人堂中还有肯尼斯布拉纳的照片简介 本片黑白色调有些故作深沉 街头巷尾都是导演童年的记忆和情感 每座城市都有着属于自己的印记与故事 片子在很多维度上想要呈现历史的宿命感与沉重感 实际观感上没有很强的剧情连贯性 但仍是一部水准之上的艺术片
乡愁电影，和看《上帝之手》观感类似，记忆不相通，情绪不相容，整体来说没让我全然共情。
虽然片中不乏充满文学感的台词（爱尔兰人出生就是为了离开的。走吧，别回头！），但是给最佳原创剧本，属实不能让人理解！这片应该是效仿罗马，但是没有罗马的宽度和深度。bgm中的歌很有代入感，这片就是太糖水片了。但还是让人能理解举家移民的不舍心情吧！黑白画面确实更有代入感，但是成品一般。这里要重点表扬一下演员们的表演，小男主Jude Hill也太灵了吧？这片能成，他功不可没呢！还有就是爷爷的扮演者塞伦希德，演得也太好了，代入感也很强呢。詹米多南，我总算是看出他的好了，有点低配宽脸版马修古迪的感觉，居然还唱歌了，还唱得不错呢！妈妈的扮演者有点像裴淳华，告诉小孩子不要偷东西和爸爸吵架时，代入感张力十足。
2022.02.17一个人在蓝湾看。以小城窥大世：生存的困，时代的苦，小情的囧，大情的难。两个点：爷爷去世的萨克斯，88岁Dench最后的“Go. Go now. Don't look back”及门后垂首，以及小尾巴“For the ones who stayed. For the ones who left. And for all the ones who were lost.” 3星半。
1. 那条街人人都认识我的岁月早已不在，但黑白对立的仇恨还在；故乡已经不可回去，但关于故乡的电影越来越多。是一部可以从place这个概念出发讨论的电影。2. 故乡是一封旧旧的情书，这部电影虽然采用了黑白摄影，但是分明的对比度和精致的画面让一切显得太新，好像杂志封面，就像演员们精致的脸庞。风格上的矛盾使得乡愁变成了时尚元素，记忆的质感被抛光打磨，因而共情力大大减弱。3. 黄色字体让人想到Roma，结尾的点题让人想起Nomadland, 东施效颦之作。
您这童年往事着实也没啥可值得自溺其中的，更没必要替广大游子吟出个悲秋。《罗马》倒过来是爱，贝尔法斯特倒过来应该是大写的FALSE吧。毫无旧日温度的干净布景上，演员们步履匆匆，穿过的不是岁月洪流，而是急着去拿盒饭。
同时能明显感受到喜欢与不喜欢这电影的地方，故事很走心，这个原创故事很棒，是一本优秀的剧本使然。然而又能感到有目的性地过分炫技，太满当变得溢价。或是剧情转折快，有些东西立体了，有些又有点赶脚。但对于奥斯卡来说技巧多未必是坏事…（7.5分）
没有英国历史背景很难因为暴乱还洗衣粉的小事共鸣
想起了之前的【罗马】，和国内拍的【八月】，说的都是导演自己的童年，用的都是黑白影调，其实【阳光灿烂的日子】也算，无非把现今变成黑白，童年的回忆是绚烂的。这么看也有套路。
就算是刻意地为赋新词强说愁，我也喜欢这份笨拙但真诚的乡愁。
不同于罗马的审视，只是一个小孩子的回忆。另外妈妈为了教育孩子带孩子回被looting的商店这种行为只能让我送上一句sb
奥斯卡里看到的最值得的一部作品了。
#TIFF2021# 肯尼思·布拉纳写给家乡贝尔法斯特的一封情书，很私人，但能感受到深深的怀念和满满的爱意。关于童年的回忆在黑白的影像中展开，冲突与暴乱打破了平静快乐的生活，负债累累的一家面临搬离与留下的选择。天真的孩童视角，初恋和亲情的温馨多少能化解一些伤痛，很多处镜头的设计仿佛让他回到曾经的生活并与之对话。在黑白的回忆里，电影和戏剧却是彩色的，足见二者对导演本人的影响之大。
人生面临的无尽选择啊..and say in thankfulness that you are grateful he was there瞬间泪目..ps. bgm真好听
但是，这种生活碎片采集式的手法确实导致整个影片哪里都涉及一点点但没有一处是深入讨论的。尤其是加上大量的插曲——大部分还是直接以bgm附着与故事之外的——更是冲淡了在那样的背景下应有的迷失感与压抑感。
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