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."
分不清年代感，像在看二十几年前拍的电影。最近看过的最能称之为「电影」的电影。
有动人之处，有滑入梦幻时代的迷醉气质。但也就一瞬
坐在儿子摩托车后座上幸福的她。
1984-87年的巴黎，建筑、房间内饰、穿搭，都能给今天的我灵感，美不胜收。更重要的是人物开放的思想状态。虽然妈妈也唠叨作业升学以及“你们才多大！？”但40多岁忐忑开始就业的她，每每羞涩而平等地跟儿女谈起自己的事，这本身就具有开放性。那位时而加入时而消失的流浪女孩，对儿子来说意义永在，不可拥有——像是阿甘的初恋。儿子的诗性、女儿的政治激情，在被电影院、“阁楼”、客厅、澡堂、电台串起的生活流里浮动。母亲以夜间电台工作开始治愈，进而多一份图书馆员兼职，她的中年生活如巴黎地铁网般铺开，温柔而延展。结尾母亲的两个“礼物”，一是自离婚开始的日记，一是尊生育女神，完全没有想到的二连击。电影总体展示的是毫无欲望的过客般的流逝。
一流的色调摄影配乐
不喜欢，是看过直接从脑袋里滑出的类型。海报还给姥爷切没了...
像一封写给巴黎，写给电影的情书。女主太美了，故事简单动人，看过意犹未尽
是那种要在宽荧幕上放的片。最近重刷柏林看过的片子就觉得很容易走神，很大程度上因为这部片子里的故事是无序的，你不知道主人公会往哪个方向发展。没有走高也没有堕落，一切自然流淌。像是在巴黎的夜，在街上扫scooter时候被一个爱笑的男孩搭讪，一起走了一段路又在地铁口吻面礼告别。没有问来路，个人信息，就这样失散。某种程度上讲了我最喜欢的那部分巴黎，是游离于"巴黎"之外的。无关历史、文化、热门地表标，饮食、艺术和发展。只是漂泊，只是自由。
Tallulah好灵啊。好正常的女主一家人（褒义），好舒缓的bgm好强的年代感
这个世界总是会陷入得与失的循环，无论得失，时间从不回头，生活还要继续。
认真生活的一家人慢慢走上正轨
法国文艺片，离异女带着眼袋乱着头发努力应对着世界，也一眼看得出的力不从心，和朋友聊天“有时候我恐慌症发作没带着书就读票根的注意事项”果然是毛姆说的“书是随身携带的避难所”，大家就这样诚实地淡淡地谈天就仿佛感觉生活不那么糟，还有结结实实的拥抱～
哭了 想到了自己离开父母孤独在法国生活 共情
圆夜梦花都这个电影我也喜欢，没想到也看过几部小女主的电影了，形像有可塑性，未来可期
#72nd Berlinale# EFM online-主竞赛。7分可以有。片名翻成《巴黎夜行人》可能比较好。很温情的单亲家庭故事（不少场景让人想起《少年时代》，尤其最后搬家那段），不温不火，一点不抓马，对八十年代时代气氛的再现是使用一系列来自老电影等的既得影像素材（画幅不同，片尾有list）的匹配剪辑来实现的（也有新拍的16毫米素材），怀旧气氛也很好传达出来了。也算得上是近来电影节圈里突然热起来的声音相关题材（广播电台），当然最令人会心一笑的是导演是个侯麦粉，直接cue了《圆月映花都》及女主角，当群演那场戏估计也是cue《冬天的故事》。
这是我喜欢的法国电影。静谧的夜晚，淡淡的忧伤，破碎的婚姻却充满力量的从低谷走出来，还能帮助感染另一个小姑娘。法式的浪漫优雅，美人叼只烟，温柔而坚定的信念，那些有质感复古的画面，浪漫动听的旋律，在这样的夕阳余晖，夜晚灯下，第一缕晨光，循环往复，日子一天天的幸福而美好。
中年母亲，旅人少女，懵懂少年… 在巴黎夜晚他们路过彼此的世界而已！！！
以及 奶油焦糖就应该配JoeDassin。配乐太加分了走到心里去的那种 麻麻衣品超棒 有一份优雅在里面。
85/100。时而清冷时而明丽的色调，温和轻柔的配乐，复古的镜头，组成了一个温馨又忧伤淡淡的故事。亘古不变的夜幕下，我们永远不知道我们将旅向何方，那些曾伴、伴着、将伴我们的旅人，或而一瞬，或而长久，都会在我们的旅程中留下一段温暖的回忆。“我一开始想象的生活并不是这样的，但我们还是尽力去热爱它了，不是吗？”
以为是老电影，原来是2022的。后劲很足，看过之后感觉挥之不去，迷惘伤感，又带着一些些希望。最美的是懵懂的青春期的少男少女。疲惫憔悴的女主，看似虚弱但并没有被生活打败，觉得眼熟，原来就是很多年前看过的性瘾者！那时的她可是年轻而疯狂的
Copyright © 2015-2023 All Rights Reserved
