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."
借师生的互动与分离，演绎两种社会理想的碰撞，最终在绝望中选择独善其身的人格自我保全，“若不能按照所学的来活，那就该按照自己的性格来活。”“做个无名之人也是有意义的。”因为对心灵世界的深入，可以说是非常震撼的观影经验了。
最后一场高潮戏的爆发力值得学习。剪辑不错。
师徒因为中西文化信仰的矛盾而分开，最后的结果恰恰是很好的证明，真理应该是怎样吧。
非常感动的影片、感叹韩国能将我国的儒学诠释的如此之好并且不枯燥还能让人思考、当时韩国面临的其实跟中国非常相像、由于儒学将人民固化形成统治工具的时候自然放弃了欧洲的工业革命。就像丁先生说的性理学和洋枪洋炮是朋友可以一起走的、他的思想就是想要一个没有压迫没有阶级没有王的国家那其实就是社会主义。但是对于昌大来说从小被父亲遗弃的庶子、他一直想要靠读书来改变命运摘掉贱民的头衔、所以他无法理解入世又出世老师的敦敦教导。于是他去考了功名但是他还是无法做到为了抓泥鳅而深陷泥中。当他洗去铅华的时候老师已经不在了。其实两个人都没错、丁先生已经非常恐惧在西方日益发展的情况下朝鲜的闭关锁国代表着什么而昌大依然想着学而优则仕、去除贱民籍步入两班切近君王再去为百姓做好事。但是真正的政治中你是无法做到改变整个体制的。
后半个小时一直爆哭，哭得头疼缓不过来。经世的理想即使被放逐了，依然在荒岛上落地生根。实学在儒学和西学institution之间驻足，朴素的无君思想即使未能指引一个未来，依然传颂至今。清代的每本图谱又能拍出怎样的故事呢？想穿越回硕士论文交稿之前把瓯中物产图重新写一遍。
是一部和安静的电影，大部分时间还挺轻松的，只是徒弟当官的部分，现实有凸显了它的苍白。最后当然有另一种安静，一种愿做平凡之人的一种生活态度。这种师徒关系，是养人的。
必看薛景求。幽晦可怖的黑山，传奇惊险《漂海始末》，没有主人，没有君王的世界超越想象。“既然无法学以致用，那就按照性情活着就行了”。
“一个人是否值得尊重不在于他有多少才能，而在于他用自己的才能去做什么。”
啊，说是流放。天天住海景房吃海鲜啊。小渔村日子过得真的比都市社畜们好多了
贱民努力追寻形而上学，士大夫饱受权力之苦追寻形而下学。贱民与士大夫，你是我师，我是你师。相互学习，取长补短。黑山兹山看山是山，看山不是山，看山还是山。对于绝大多数人来说，实用的学问才更值得追寻吧。实用的学问在哪里呢，在自然间，大山海间，在民间。而不是利用权力意志洗-脑的学问。不是为王-权服务的学问。「活成不断向上飞的鹤虽也不算坏事，但是即便身上沾满污水泥浆，也选择活得像兹山一样，虽外表看着黑暗，却生机勃勃自由自在，也未尝不是有意义的事啊。」
可说是中国古典文学爱好者必看影片。以前对韩国电影有个挥之不去的印象就是小器，看上去深刻但无大气象，这部完全使我改观，感动之余又觉得遗憾。感动是因电影本身传达的内容，遗憾是以后如果有人问我有没有讲述中国古代文人的电影，我会跟他推荐《兹山鱼谱》，中国古代那么多的人物故事，大如宋应星《天工开物》，郦道元《水经注》，小如历朝历代无数位文人匠师所著典籍，却无对应的好电影呈现，如何不遗憾？这并非执着中韩电影差异。古代文人寄情于山水是有复杂原因的，不仅是因为山水怡情，也是因为现实无情。山水永远无私，一个人无论是什么身份地位，无论他苦乐与否，都可以在山水自然中找到安慰——既是生理上，也在个人价值和灵魂，这也是田园山水诗的地位如此之高的原因。近年中国一直宣扬传统文化，但恕我直言，这样的电影目前我国是看不到的。
破例给个5*吧4+1情感分，前40分钟看得有点犯困，节奏有点慢，另外这片子叙事节奏也有很多欠技巧的地方，略平了，悬念和细节都有可改进得更好看的地方。但情节真的是可以用震撼形容，就冲印度可以随意示威加司法独立这两点，也比某国强的太多。很难不让人类比雷洋案。你国不是电影不如印度，…… 再多就不说了。应该是我2021年看的最好的电影。IMDB评分有点虚高，TOP250的倒还合理，不知是怎么排的。
好看到失语。比《思悼》的冲突温和些，感动之余仍然揪心。黑白影像的色调使片子增色不少。again，这个题材简直比《思悼》更应该是中国概念啊，就让人不懂为啥我们拍不出来
这是印度版的《辩护人》，前几年还有印度版《熔炉》。印度电影或许不能在质量上超越我国，但在题材的开放性上已经把我国电影甩出十万八千里了。
尽管外表乌黑而死气沉沉，却一直源源不断给国家输送着鲜活生机，不要做好高骛远的鹤，在乱世中做着脚踏实地的渔民也很好。但是思想虽生机勃勃、自由自在，现实却如鲠在喉。从这个角度上看，是一部确确实实的“文人电影”。
不讳疾忌医，能正视问题，就有解决问题的可能。
对中华文化的执著，是他们的坚持，是我们的奢望
电影抛出来三个问题：为何而学、何为真学、若道不行则何如。孔子和基督似乎都只解答了前两个问题，但对于大多数读书人而言，第三个问题才是最困惑的。中国文人大抵是儒道相参的，孔子抱怨完乘槎浮海，然后继续周游列国；孔明眼看着南阳高卧，依然心系天下大势。好土壤和好种子孰轻孰重的问题也许只有种子才能回答，哪怕被风吹到荒地，哪怕枯干不得结实，也依然会努力以自己的方式生长，那就是好种子。孔子说“我欲仁斯仁至矣”，基督说“种子便是神的道”，是故孔子奔走于列国之间，基督牺牲在十字架上，他们对第三个问题的解答没有语言，乃是都在行动里了。
黑白构图有了海岛与兹山交融的韵味。“魟鱼要走的路，只有魟鱼知道”，其实是在对比传统观念进行思考。一白群黑，将大昌与众官的对比放大，海岛渔夫“通过做官实现原初的理想”被驳得多么实在沉重，也只有这样，他在海岛的那段岁月才更显珍贵。从影像世界投射到现实世界，读书的功利心被无限放大，内心的自我沉浸往往比改变社会现实更令人接受，但从“走入”到“出走”实际上也是一个不可忽视的话题。天主教与朝廷的冲突很有意思，也很残酷，观念的和平共处几乎是无法想象的，过去固然是，但今日呢？其中值得深思，“兼容并包”永远是“天下”之所以为“天下”的原因，但“统治”天生的排异却使得一切难上加难。
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