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."
看之前以为是“如花束般美好的恋爱”，看之后才发现是“如花束般易逝的恋爱”。两个“怪咖”在茫茫人海中相遇相爱的几率多小啊，所以看到他们因生活轨道慢慢不同而平淡分手才会唏嘘不已。在半路上走散的人很多，幸运的是，我们一同走过那一段美好的路程。
电影院后面一排有一对夫妻一直在聊天，吐槽这部电影，也许他们才是真正的天作之合
我为什么要大半夜的看这个。从他两第一次见面的窃笑再到他两平静的说出分手二字。前半夜喝了蜜，后半夜吃了黄连。是从头到脚的苦。
aromantic视角的胡说八道：要破除soulmate的迷思，只要意识到自己并没有多特别，一些自认为奇怪的想法和兴趣，其实很多人也是这么想的（所以那种遇到soulmate的欣喜本质上还是自恋 ？）；兴趣一致的人还是做朋友比较好，万一失去共同语言了自然会drift apart，不需要分手仪式……以及日本影视剧中好像真的很喜欢“眼看着别人走进你刚踩过的坑”这种桥段……
完全戳中 很多处都在想 这不就是我本人的颅内活动和我本人的恋爱经历（当然更急促）还好最终他们又在分手和祝福 最后这件事上 找回了初见的默契 偶遇后来自背面的招手 偶尔的缅怀 都在讲着着 分手的爱情故事 也可以继续温暖余后没有对方的人生
问题不是巧合过多，而是连这些都太寻常了，轻轻松松看不出一点新鲜意思。想起来很像什么和性转版的自己谈恋爱，不过两个人背景境遇完全不同，所以从同居开始好像一个实验对照组，观察生活和社会是如何在他们身上发生作用，大概是个提醒……
cp党差不多得了。。反正我谁都不站，为几个纸片人闹心至于吗
“あんたが好きだった。でも私は先に大人になった。”
就明明觉得节奏太过明快，父子对打有点搞笑，一一告别都太敷衍，等等…眼泪却是止不住。可能这真的是我们一代人该做的告别和远望，再见总是要说出口的，趁还有时间，好好的道个别吧。
我为什么要给自己找不舒服来看碇真嗣以及他爸这两个各方面都让人拳头硬的男的，又好笑又好气还有很多的恶心想起eex。内容核心的无聊程度比TV还高（很多），整个一家庭鸡汤片。那两个人物差不多得了，能有多少值得挖掘的，越搞越偏。我感谢明日香一如既往地美丽教训了一下死爹的真嗣，不然可能会看不下去。最后真嗣终于像个人样了，但问题是庵野你为什么要我看他长大，从TV开始的观看体验就像一直都在呕吐，然后看到最后的最后才终于不吐了。还有CP的部分是属实看笑了。庵野秀明我感谢你创造了明日香，但你为什么要乱点鸳鸯谱，非要配成一对对的有意思吗。太扯了以至于都生不起气。。大家都独美的世界才是美丽新世界。尤其是我香本来就足够强大根本不需要男人哈，退一万步讲再孤独也不至于找那个同学把?真嗣成熟感的表现属实也给人笑拉了
信息量爆炸，冲击性太强，Eva美学的终极。最爱成年三人组，喜欢香的归宿。对其他人的结局也不感兴趣，长不大的ゲンドウ你最后还在说最老套无病呻吟的话，不过eva一直就是这样的吧。作画太太太棒了nbすぎる无语，Khara真的没变好几处超飞跃巅峰！就是最后一幕真的像极了矿泉水CM。さらば、全てのエヴァンゲリオン。
看不懂但大受震撼。好像从一个很长的梦里醒来，又好像没醒。
感觉太一般了 关键是整个美学体系完蛋了 这什么画风 什么效果这是 你给我说说 能不能更丑了 一看和新版的一种质感最多就三星了 还给我看个这剧情 我勉强给个两星吧
月满则亏，水满则溢。说人话就是少折腾，做那么繁琐的设计特效为所谓大片“炫目”，是否圈钱已经到了你的骨头里，豆瓣9.2的分真是对整个EVA系列质量的不负责，你们是在给系列打分还是给这一部打分？
对比起25年前的毁灭和那句“你真恶心”，这个结局足见庵野心态变化
虽然但是，这就是最好的结局。当明日香对真嗣说“但我先一步长大了”，当画面回到红海边的两人，当真嗣对明日香说“谢谢，我也喜欢过你”，真是一个时代的谢幕啊……
庵野秀明经过多年孜孜不倦的努力成功把《EVA》拉下了神坛。
其实庵野秀明自1996年起就已经多次表示TV已经完结，然而大家偏不信他，所以这才有了如今真希波无处安放的局面（可恶的大胡子还不忘自卖自夸一波）。撇开上述马后炮言论，只说新剧场版本身，最让我印象深刻的还是Q和终之间爱的大落差：从被打入不信不爱的地狱，到一跃升入万物归一的天堂，最终回归人间，总计用时约4小时。TV版用了26话也只是勉强完成的伟业，新剧场版要在塞入大量新设定和战斗场景的前提下完成，结局如何我认为已经无需赘述。而且说到底，电影这种压缩时间的艺术形式在表现「成长」上本身就是有缺陷的。当然，这已经不是EVA终能够承载的话题了……
这么讨人嫌的文艺青年凑成一对儿真是为民除害啊=.=（如果猫只是布景的一部分，连道具都算不上，更别说作为角色，那就别搞个猫演员了好么=.=养个猫都不亲亲抱抱，就显得这对儿男女更烦人了=.=
因为一直以来事业心都比较重 其实确实有时候会忽视爱人的感受
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