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."
很久没有底层人民的故事了。对一扫而过的那些镜头反而有了升华的感触——穿着一样工服的快递员，在店门口早上喊加油的房产中介，通勤路上买包子的普通白领。。。大家都不要忘记听自己心里的声音呀！
没想到看个动画片也要带纸巾，剧情非常工整，每个情节都不出意料，但线索铺得高级且克制，画面堪称光线大师。最珍贵的是，我们很久没看到一个真实的中国城市出现在屏幕上了，荔枝湾、芳村地铁站、红木棉市花都是真的，舞狮文化、留守儿童、工伤、一闪而过的富士康厂服也是真的，有这片子是广州之幸。
可怜人看可怜人 眼泪里都倒映得是自己的影子……
一个半小时那里隐瞒律师造成的转折，就很诡异，故事到那里就已经结束了。。
前半段惊喜到了，不是因为对周星驰电影的借鉴，而是对本片没有任何了解的前提下发现它一反潮流选择了现代背景，并且生动地还原了一个南方村镇的空间质地和人物形象，那个阿猫一头蓬乱发型，眯缝眼，宽牙床，破洞牛仔裤，一口浓厚广普，就是印象中的乡下广东仔啊。后半段好在节奏和情节层次，剧情推进在有意识规避陈俗烂套，然而剧作水平跟不上，比如打工和舞狮决赛完全不冲突的两件事必须强行处理成“抉择时刻”，太傻了。至于现实表达，反正我是觉得走马灯式地表现下城市打工生活的辛劳真说明不了个啥，留守儿童也就是个基本设定。女阿娟的阶层暗示和彩蛋算是轻微撩拨了一下下吧。
「豆友评论：印度有希望，至少他们敢把这几个词拿出来拍电影。电影的伟大之处在于创造奇迹，就像梦，虽然现实黑暗，但如果没有梦，会更绝望吧！」「豆友评论：世界因律师这样伟大的人变得更美好！」
其实没有被人物造型打动，甚至害怕是追求刻板印象中的审美。
不求尽如人意，只求无愧于心。
真正的现实主义底层叙事从来不等于贩卖情绪主题先行的比惨哭片，只是这几年越来越被消费敷衍玩坏了，庆幸当年有人开先河现如今有人也回过神掰回来，很了不起了。细节出真知，即使有配乐过满台词喊口号结局缺少离场感的问题，但种种细节铺陈是真切的人文关怀，是真现实反而就没有共情，只觉得惨和无能为力，那是血淋淋无法改变的状况。除此之外的一大意义是填补了动画电影的题材空白，其实写实题材动画在其他国家非常多，而国内还享受着把老掉牙的神话传说翻来覆去讲的舒适圈。用动画形式去触及真人电影无法直接展示的议题，也是中特行为一种了，尤其在当前所谓“共富”背景下。有现实意义也有行业意义，某种程度上都很“新”很“奇迹”，一个关于“怎样才能有奇迹”命题，这边建议又名《奇迹》吧来个粤港少年梦幻联动，北文不死哈哈哈哈。
完全按电影分镜画的吧，调度运镜都太牛了。一切都恰到好处，乍一看还是老励志套路，但其中的分寸拿捏的太好了。被剧透了五条人和九连，怎么没人和我说还有椅子啊。
岭南的偏远村镇里就是有很多这种眼睛小小、瘦骨嶙峋、其貌不扬的男孩子啊，这部电影的创作人员多棒呀，愿意把镜头对准他们，愿意承认这些人也有梦想，可以去做一些很厉害的事情。这么真诚的动机，却被你们说成是ruhua。我看，这几个角色形象不ruhua，ruhua的是你们的小肚鸡肠和小人之心。
感觉主创应该会很想让周星驰师父看看。看的粤语版，开场那段介绍旁白十分醒神。技术超凡得简直让我怀疑这是动画吗这不是真人(狮) 电影吗。有些画面真的，根本看不出是动画。喜欢木棉甸甸掉落时感受到银幕内空气湿度的重量仿佛都蒸腾弥漫在影厅里。中途发现竟没带纸巾只得去影院厕所拿纸巾，结尾真的雄狮出现时，我暴哭成傻逼，也说不太清为何。
“九连真人”的小号🎺在片尾吹响，终于找到了与他最匹配的电影视觉画面，为了这一刻，这部电影值得反复看~
个人心目中年度最近国产电影🈶 至于有多佳，写在长评了，短评写不完。 在这里我只想说，所有只是因为包括眼睛在内造型原因就说这部剧乳华的人，再见！本广东人，现居佛山，一 点 也 不 觉得被冒犯。 本中国广东人拒绝被代表。 这是一个好故事、好电影，有优良的制作和扎实的故事，不要被狭隘的思想禁锢而错过了一部好电影。
你能在一部动画片里看到工地，贫穷，也能看到理想和浪漫
作为闽南人也很喜欢，感觉片中每一座房子都像老家的房子，路边混着榕树樟树和芭蕉，木棉花一碗一碗地掉，一股东南沿海的气息。在城市不断崛起的同时，民工子弟的生活却是坠落的。年纪大了就知道这种勇气很难，舞狮踩的高桩就是万重山，“人这一生，上山下山，有自己的路要走”，就常常觉得难走，可是他在楼顶张着双臂，变得结实黝黑，“嘭—嘭—嘭”好像自己的心也在跳。台词有些刻意，剧情问题倒不算大，最喜欢的设计是林中的石佛像，一个具象化的“命运”，使这个片虽不是神话却有一丝神性，那个地方就是隐秘的内心世界，少年半信半疑地向神佛许愿，但实现奇迹的却可能不是佛像而是他心中的狮子。
之所以情怀能拉满，恐怕主要是当年录像店镭射厅凤凰电影台以及央6依次看了几十遍《狮王争霸》的那代人，如今都带着娃进影院，原本是亲子顺带支持下国漫，哪知道不小心被浓浓的写实风和港片味逼着怀了一把旧。本片配乐堪称绝绝子，时代和市场兼顾，最戳我还不是乐夏出圈的道山靓仔抑或莫欺少年穷们，而是中间那首射雕，罗文声音还没出来，眼眶湿了一大片。。。
很久没有底层人民的故事了。对一扫而过的那些镜头反而有了升华的感触——穿着一样工服的快递员，在店门口早上喊加油的房产中介，通勤路上买包子的普通白领。。。大家都不要忘记听自己心里的声音呀！
反抗反抗再反抗！因为有种姓歧视的元素在，本片显得格外悲壮。
如果一定要喊国产动画崛起，或许现在才是好时候。
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