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."
他是一个cutter，不是tailor.
撸起袖子加油干！不仅讲的是50s的故事，拍的亦像是如此，动人心弦处，移步换景，已经步入裁缝店，马克·里朗斯已然killed me。
the first half was enthralling
蛮精巧的小成本电影，不过有个bug：爱尔兰帮的高层都被一锅端了，法国帮应该没必要再来求购录音带了吧？
整个故事做得很饱满，反转一气呵成，但全靠男主演技撑，其他配角演得都黯然无光。看完没有什么思考的空间。
拖沓半天，反转几个，守株待兔N多巧合。到底是套装还是套娃，拨开内里逻辑尽失，也就看看老戏骨演个热闹。6
卧槽，这老年北野武也太有那味了吧，不愧是影帝（小声）
有車錢記得回來還我，高跟鞋。
马克里朗斯真是好。另外俩男的，一个移动迷宫一个滑稽游戏，都老了。恍如隔世啊！
在同类追忆型自传作品中算是完成度较高的。以及主角若不是柳乐以及麦小姐，估计质量会塌陷的厉害。
今年仿佛是充满怀旧气氛的一年。索伦蒂诺在回忆他十六岁的那不勒斯，肯尼斯则拍了他是一个儿童眼中动荡的贝尔法斯特。浅草小子则是属于北野武的青年时期。浅草小子从内容上来说其实并不算非常出众，但是它是一个真实的故事。而作为一个真实的故事，剧中的那些点就不是技巧性的压抑和煽情，而是真的让人在笑声中流泪，又在悲伤中微笑。全片最打动人的三场戏，一是功成名就的北野武和师傅深见在鲸的饭店里配合着说段子，一屋子笑声不断，最后北野武在师傅脚下放了双红色的高跟鞋，这是徒弟对师傅教导的铭心不忘，也是师傅生前最后的高光时刻。第二段是北野武在师傅灵前说的段子，我想这种大悲下说出的笑话只有师徒两人才懂吧。曹丕让大家学驴叫也是千古意同吧。第三段就是全片最后师傅教训观众的话，深见对于北野武的关爱尽在其中。本片的剪辑也是一个亮点
对于一个“计划”来说，毫无周密性可言
整体还算不错，男主一再重复自己是Cutter，不是Tailor，当然，Cutter是负责“剪裁”的，也相当于主动承担起剪恶除奸责任的大侠，而不是Tailor，Tailor能做到的只是缝补和妥协。故事逻辑转折有点多，有点为转折而转折的嫌疑，回到故事场景之中，我宁愿选择相信每次的反转其实是老Cutter的灵机应变，而非深谋远虑，早有预谋。此外，整部影片最出彩的还是男主，基本上算是靠一位经验老道的老戏骨撑起整部单一场景的悬疑舞台剧了。
挺好的，平凡的裁缝（其实是剪裁师）老头才是操纵布局设计一切的幕后黑手，罗伊和他没什么仇，可能最大的错误就是不该作为第一个客人走进这家店铺，搅乱cutter想要重新开始的生活。/少帮主里奇看着眼熟，是你啊，移动迷宫男主角！
Rylance演得太好了，令人安心的那种好。舞台剧感像在对标Hangmen，加上又有Flynn乱入，我甚至暂停瞅了一眼编剧里有没有McDonagh……（1:11:45画面右下晃过”鬼手“……
除了裁缝无法提前确保Richie中枪进自己的店里让前提有点难成立，片子完全可以当话剧来看，现场冲突精彩，转折推进扣人心弦，最后那个晃晃悠悠起身真是太意外了
好像真的是这样，就比如以前上学，每次考试快要写完一篇作文的时候总是会写错字，然后涂改。
全片发生在裁缝店里，很有舞台剧的范儿。芝加哥黑帮和英国老裁缝都很有腔调，所以故事看得不出戏。
除了裁缝无法提前确保Richie中枪进自己的店里让前提有点难成立，片子完全可以当话剧来看，现场冲突精彩，转折推进扣人心弦，最后那个晃晃悠悠起身真是太意外了
在封闭空间，仅用台词和表演和三五个人就拍出了一部黑帮犯罪悬疑片，节奏非常好，用戏剧小成本的方式演绎出警匪几方势力博弈、背叛、勾结、牵制的潜在戏码，而这些统统用“嘴”表现出来，文本的胜利。
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