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."
妥妥为电视机尺寸定制的流媒体电影，叙事流畅，情感真挚，有一些技法上的小聪明。这样的温情小品拿到奥斯卡best picture也侧面反映了疫情之下的世道艰难。
不难看 但是很老套 好像是新题材套了看老模版的感觉
反观丁若铨，他将西学内化为生存哲学，绝不是在黑山岛「出世」，而是在小小天地里找到「入世」的新选项。 —引自不散
本来很抗拒这种励志片，讲故事都跟套路。但确实在里面看到了很多东西，关于我自己。
合唱团表演的“此时无声胜有声”和面试的手语翻译歌词都是神来之笔。
说低音会把屁股震麻
2021.12.01，今天两次哭的稀里哗啦，为鹿道森的赴死，为电影传递的温情。果然，只有在最纯粹的光影里，才能看到世间最本真的善良和温柔。
情感上没有太感动，但是电影本身做得很好了，对残障人士的描绘以及这一家人的刻画很棒。靠明灭的灯来充当闹钟，家人因听不见所以会造成很多噪音，母亲甚至希望女儿也是个聋哑，这样的细节才是这部电影的灵魂。
喜剧表演，艺术片影像。类型混乱，主题繁多（哪个都没说清楚）且黑白质感糟糕。这是个朝鲜陶渊明，还是个朝鲜版《沉默》，结果看完发现啥都不是，它就是个韩国商业片而已。优点全给薛影帝，他表演的层次感让这片看起来没那么平。
最喜欢的一段：电影模拟了聋哑群体在合唱会上的寂静世界。这让我想到：你总是想让父母理解你，但你不曾想象你父母的世界或许是：如此的尴尬，迷茫和无助。
家庭终于不再是青春片中的背景板了，无声处理那段很感人
任何一种感觉
是好看的故事片，但今年最近影片有点过了，大概率是苹果操作的。 这是电影的小电影，最佳影片怎么也得是big cinema 吧？
老师角色塑造得太平庸了，相比原版的老师差得不是一点半点。另外导演的音乐品味也差，每首歌都口水得不想听第二遍。
可能是我岁数大了，再看这种励志音乐小甜片难免有点觉得有些浅，倒退个五年十年的可能我会非常喜欢。音乐部分悦耳但是欠点冲击力。原生家庭的问题挺全面，但都浅尝辄止。青春爱情这部分动线几乎断了，不过这应该也是主创故意而为之，毕竟几处对手戏男配甚至用了背景虚化处理，这就是个搭配元素，而男女的嗓音也不是很搭。我觉得像是爆裂鼓手，初恋这首情歌，贝利叶一家的混合翻拍。哦对了，其实没什么存在感的小哥主演的初恋这首情歌更好看。
聋哑人家庭的正常女儿逐梦伯克利故事居然能拍得一点都不谄媚，特别真诚，丝丝入扣，流畅至极｜音乐会时电影突然静音，爸爸摸女儿声带的震动感受歌曲，手语可视化演唱，几场戏太精彩了，不亚于烧女图结尾带给我的震撼｜女主妈妈演员是奥斯卡最年轻影后，唯一一个聋哑人影后，三十多年后她终于等来了这个角色
不论女主多甜，长得多像某ex，几个桥段多么温馨感人，“此处无声胜有声”让人潸然泪下，但这都是高水平流水线应有的正常发挥啊，没有惊喜。“聋哑鲜生”不是加分理由…
【大同海天何处寻，莫如兹山捕鱼去】小岛上的青年为了活得像个人而读书，最后却发现国家权贵并不把贱民当人看。士大夫学富五车，却发现大同的梦想无法实现，转而开始为惠民而编写鱼谱。这一对师徒从不同的起点出发，短暂的相处，又走向不同的方向，最后却发现殊途同归。虽然导演自己编写了后半部分剧情，不过不显得突兀。听着熟悉的四书五经，看着致人于死地的苛捐杂税，很难不让人想起我们自己的古代社会。黑白片的风格使得整个片子呈现了水墨画的飘逸，也包含了几分当时世道的残酷，可以说是明智的选择。
歌几乎都不好听，这我是万万没想到！
非常精炼，但还是太顺。家庭故事的处理方式有点“东方”，但就原生家庭这个话题上，东方人恐怕看了会直呼“就这？”
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