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."
剧情其实可以说老套 但是因为这些真实倾注的情感 所以喜欢电影的人应该都会被感动到 小津呼啸的火车 原结子的微笑 最后和伍迪艾伦呼应 原来巴斯特基顿才是“电影之神” 另外那句“讲十分的话 用七分的力 讲七分的话 才要用十分的力”也希望后辈编剧和演员都纹在身上警醒自己比较有用。
依稀可见浪子回头情怀，山田洋次这部算比较平庸的一部，也算是新冠疫情呼吁保护电影行业宣传片了。
陈某某
还是山田洋次的老配方，时间和家人。经过时间沉淀而成感情真的很沉重，重到一点一滴的感谢都令人感动。
年轻时的部分不错，少年人追求理想，有创作激情，被无所畏惧的爱着。老年就太让人讨厌了，脾气臭，嗜酒又赌博，让年迈妻子辛苦做工还债，太不负责了
其他都不错，就是有个疑问，也许是菅田将晖气质太过靠谱了，眼神耶过于真诚了，总觉得他不是会赌博和喝酒的人，以至于老年时那个不靠谱的被家人嫌弃的老头，不像是他会成为的样子～哈哈哈～永野芽郁有点苍井优的味道，特别邻家，没有攻击性。北川景子在这里果真大美人～
《抓著彩虹的男人》開拍前渥美清離世了，到了《電影之神》志村健也走了，山田洋次算是見證日本演藝時代的逝去了。
其实电影并没有达到满分的山田洋次的水准，主要的问题还是出在两代演员的表演衔接距离太大了。
☆：3- 你看松竹这艘大船它又平又稳（唯一喜欢的地方是向mini theater文化致意）
看到最后真是无尽的感动，这部电影拍的算是一种情怀，死在电影中，也算是一种幸福吧……如果电影之神真的存在，请继续守护我们吧！
理想化的幸运结局。活久见，选择比努力重要，又有谁能不被生活中鸡毛蒜皮的琐事磨平感情，为实现理想坚持一生呢。
为什么要给一个追梦少年贴上嗜赌滥情的标签。。。。
难以想象90岁的山田洋次竟然还在坚持拍电影，除了情怀以外，没什么可说的，片尾的穿越对话用得很好。电影学院8项提名，无一获奖。6.6
有一段，两个伤心的人在伞下拥抱，都未给演员脸部镜头，女演员脸埋在男演员胸前，而男演员背对着观众，只给雨打着女演员手的画面，这一段没深厚功力的导演是拍不出来的，妙，要是把男演员转身后女演员露脸的画面剪掉，直接到二人背对观众分别，就完美了。
老年组三人和年轻组三人在表情上竟有微妙的重叠。。野甜甜弹吉他那段狠戳，但好人都是男二不是吗。虽然翻资料发现泽田研二老先生年轻的时候好帅，但结尾致敬志村健确实让人觉得可惜了。
男主角年轻时遇到了一个好妻子，老不死时又碰上了聪明且善解人意的好孙子，最后却还在意淫曾经的电影女神中死去……好像有点不太令人同情啊（苏打长得好有少年感，但缺了点角色需要的“渣”）。不过老电影院的部分还是很让影迷们感动的！
属于山田洋次自己的《天堂电影院》。受到疫情冲击的电影行业，让山田洋次开始思考电影与人的关系，也同时也藉由本片怀念日本电影的黄金时代，怀念他自己的青春年华。90岁高龄还在拍电影，还在为电影发声，很难得，剧作的粗糙也是肉眼可见，但他拍出了电影的本质:电影，是一场春梦，任何投沉浸其中的人都不愿意醒来。
关于人生，不是选择一条不会后悔的前路，而是在避无可避的后悔中权衡。所有关于时间的叙述都无比动人，当夕阳的余晖变成黑白的影像，当苍老的脸庞映照年轻的模样，当禁锢的银幕化作越过时间的桥梁，我们会明白所谓的后悔也会成为调剂，在苦乐参半的人生况味里品尝。如同电影，它从来不会拯救人生的无常，但在每一次苦难的时刻我们需要电影，来舒缓、疗愈我们的哀伤。
就算是山田洋次也無法買帳，劇情老套，人設迂腐，芝居がクサイ。拍電影也沒講好，愛情線也沒講好。喜歡的就只有救濟映畫館和暗示松竹經典作。幾乎是本片僅有的兩個正常人：Lily和志尊淳。
红伞踏雪，索尔雷特
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