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."
我认为这才表现新冠病毒最好的方式 不是通过紧张大医院大规模的健康状态 快速留下更少的思考感受时间 这天然的会让人产生隔阂 让人难以共情 应该是表现小的群体 甚至一个人面临的困难和处境 就像这个电影一样大量的脸部特写 反应一个人面对困境的情感冲击 她就像是和我们一样的普通人 把我们放在她的环境中 体会是一样的 以小见大 更能反映出疫情下对每个人造成的冲击以及影响
现实比电影里还要绝望无助与残酷，大时代之下渺小的个人被牺牲在数字里
Sarah找Tony帮忙的时候真的特别感动。另外不知道每小时8.5镑在英国是个什么水平？
2022 21
时代的一粒沙落在个人身上是座山。敢于质问勇于发声就是改变的开始。ps:几位主演全出生在利物浦，口音很正宗😂
影片拍攝的角度很小但很真實，電影的描寫和沉浸感充滿了感染力。
3.导演不爱国呀，电影里展现的情节一定是道听途说，应该谴责他！
整体还是不错的，但后面这段太生硬了点，显得很无脑（并非无法理解女主的行为而是导演拍得不够细腻）
如果没有最后二十分钟，这其实是一部能打4星的片子，尤其是摄影非常出彩。半程的时候我甚至都忘记了腐国的辣鸡抗疫政策并开启了身为医护的共情模式。但是这最后二十分钟真的让前面所有的努力都白费了。你当然可以有政治主张，但是这样直白的政治表达是非常幼稚的，这甚至让片尾白纸黑字的数据都失去了真实的力量。这他妈根本就不是个别政党的问题，这就是你们制度的问题，shithead！
Comer演技真好，经得起特写近景
幸运的鸵鸟，很难说疫情让我的生活起了多大的变化，或者是一些微妙的变化已经潜移默化了。虽然听见人们谈论疫情是如何从内容和方式各方面分割和改变了音乐影视的制作，但这算是我看的第一部直面疫情的影视作品。本着看jodie show的愿望点开，持续的大特写配合衰老、痴呆、病毒、死亡的环境，压抑窒息的氛围不言而喻，jodie毫无疑问的优秀。最大的感触还是对比带来的，现在封控区的状况，去年早早的初步胜利，我们拍出歌功颂德和性别歧视；他们的电视台早早关注到卫生体系的偏倚、决策失误、疗养院的被忽视，拍出死亡和绝望的面孔悲伤和对执政党的愤怒。并不是说有多好，而是这是一个半小时应该存在的声音。苏兰和卡米在bafta后台采访讲到电视的重要性，它让我们看到我们的生活，把人们连接起来。不只是没有媒体，没有艺术，我们也没有生活。
从护理院这个小类别切入，展现英国对新冠疫情的防疫过程和普通市民的心理变化，结局不落俗套，挺好的。
中間拯救Kenny一段長鏡頭有張力，電視電影都如此有勁
看得出來導演想把立意拔高「最後一段直面鏡頭控訴可見一斑」，演員想把印象打破「被套路面試後回家特別怕她殺了自己親爹」。事過境遷，勝利第一國天天在恐懼裡，失敗國們已經擁抱了新生活——代價都是愛的人，失去的和即將失去的。
导演很喜欢虚焦拍摄啊，都看不清楚朱迪的颜了。很喜欢朱迪的口音，真的可爱。本片狠狠地打了英国防疫一脸，求救那段真的是无助而崩溃的。 结尾仓促了些，和全片有些不搭。朱迪加油啊
Sarah和Tony之间的情感建立通顺，两人的结局也蛮牵动人心。Sarah独自在养老院的一晚可以说是全片的高潮，孤立无援的绝望感表现过关。 //有点希望这部电影被更多国人知道。
3.5+0.5星。角度切入得偏，疫情时代鲜少有人关注护理院的人群，最后一句质问“生命是不平等的吗”，唉，一年过后，有变好吗？
热泪盈眶，酸楚的眼泪。灾难之下，人道主义被国家机器拆分成冷冰冰的优先级，处在高优先级的人们——我们，在和平时期不费力地怜悯他人，这时候也紧抓着既得资源无暇他顾。when did our lives stop being worth the same？有几人能没有羞愧地正视这句话？
当疫情平稳下来，我们往往会忽视疫情初期，那些身在最严重的情形下经历崩溃和绝望的人以及他们的感受，还有无数的人永远离我们而去。
为了啾硬生生啃了生肉，这片儿里的利物浦口音巨他妈可爱。剧本完成度还是粗糙了点，角色刻画和情感转折都浅尝辄止，但要命的是对世界刚经历的浩劫都描述得非常准确，比安海瑟薇演的那个啥玩意儿强多了。许多幕的表演和摄影镜头都极有张力，每一个照护的长镜头，疫情开始时午夜里No one is coming的绝望，还有结尾Jo面对镜头的质问。啾真是宝藏演员，爱她。
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