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."
巴黎终于首映了。混合职业演员和非职业演员是一件很risky的事。Einaudi的fingerprint太重了，配音煽情能少一点也许更上一个层次？片子看到一半意识到，神经系统习惯/惯性才是人类最应该抗拒的？“所谓”底层的故事，无论在哪个国家，都需要更多。但拍好真的很不易。frances mcdormand演的好，没有她这个片是另外一个样子吧。所有人都很温暖的电影，很多都描述的很委婉，留给人思考的空间很大，戏剧化降到最低，导演的基调，👍🏻。
两个场景感触深刻：斯万基去世前对女主说自己时日无多，对人生的各种经历已经心满意足，而过年回家我第一次听到外公说到类似的话；女主回到旧房子，让我想到这次春节我也回到小学五年级以前住的房子，很多人家的窗户还是20年前的样子。
“美国的底层生活”，是这么宣传的吧，其实只是个壳而已，是个非常私人的故事，讲孤独讲选择讲逃离，讲每个人都有一个不得不在路上的理由，这里大概包含了太多导演自己的经历。不知道为啥我会想起布鲁克林，这不能算是个异乡人的故事，或者说对有的人来说，这个世界处处是异乡吧，对于18岁就离家的我来说，寻求我心安处永远都会是生命的主题，但回头想想其实我站立的地方即是我家，女主说得对呀，“I'm not homeless, I'm just houseless”，我走去电影院的路上经过市中心抬头发现天气很好，我远远没想到即将去看的电影会那么符合我当时的心情，南十字星下的温暖阳光和北美苍凉的黄石沙漠就这么在我心里重合了，我们左手都是同一个宇宙里的星辰，我们终会再次相见，See you down the road.
但是 我没办法拒绝我喜欢的一切，我的心里 永远会被我所炽热的感觉吸引
舒缓，安静，痛苦，孤独还有贫穷，这就是失去对象又没有子女的老年人的生活，唯一的慰籍只能来自同样在路上的过客。
流动的影像诗。以前好多独自踏上未知旅途的记忆都缓缓氤氲在画面和配乐中。看完后打算今早早起来去海边看日出。
配乐好听，但略显泛滥，不过整体来说很成熟了，懂得克制，收放自如，一些事点到为止就可以，没有过多着墨。予人以尊严，予生命以尊重，在泥潭里寻觅转瞬即逝的诗意，十分动人了。
解封的第二部院线电影，Giulio Cesare电影院。值得一看但是没有达到预期。Einaudi的配乐十分煽情。在他乡和在路上有着类似的心境，“家”是无法到达的了。
厌倦了社交应酬，一度想辞职休息。可如今这个社会我辞职了又能去干嘛？开滴滴？打零工？我的社交圈子会对我产生鄙视吗？要对我的父母保密吗？离开城市小孩的教育怎么办？问题太多，没法细想，只能继续这段不喜欢的工作，毕竟生活还要继续，城市里停车费很贵。
像一首隽永悠长而意犹未尽的散文诗，关于旅途、也关于人生。
看完电影 同去的朋友问我 so what' do your make of it? 我思索了几秒这个问题是不是我理解的那个意思 我问她 you want to know what i think this movie is about? 她说是的 确定自己对问题的理解正确了之后 我又思索了几秒 想 这部电影究竟是关于什么呢? Grief and loss 这样的定义也许过于宽泛 但这是我对Nomadland的最直观的感受 另一个感受就是cold 电影院很冷 看完电影我又开始咳嗽 但是更加冷的是电影 雪地 荒原 狂怒的海浪 雾气缭绕的山路 灰蓝色调阴郁的摄影 同伴的评价是 i don't know it's just so morbid she's so morbid
花107分钟跟着赵婷和老麦去感受游牧民的生活。
不能否认的是比前作要成熟太多，这个层面真的羡慕“人家的创作环境”，但必须承认的是，没那么喜欢就是没那么喜欢，这个题材可以拍得更好看的。黑亚马逊毫不手软哈哈
没想到是很浪漫化的旅途。。就是觉得不明所以。这种生活方式是主动的选择还是被动的？
完成度异常的高，画面细腻，感情层层递进，在公路片中算佼佼者
刚开始，你以为它只是蜻蜓点水的伪文艺，慢慢的，你会看到零星的段落，然后你会感同身受，那些在路上的人，都是回不去的人，到最后，其实每个人都如此。那些景观，有意而为之，淡化人物情感，以观察者自居，却达到意想不到的纪实感，过犹不及。有时候好的作品可能真不是艺术家的有意为之，而是即兴使然，想想李安的作品，是不是也是神一部、鬼一部，赵婷亦然。
没想到是很浪漫化的旅途。。就是觉得不明所以。这种生活方式是主动的选择还是被动的？
感觉这个选材无敌了，基本已经成功了六七成。残酷的现实和诗意的人的精神内核共存，无敌的美国路上风光给后者的呈现加分太多，所以其实对前者的启示是，要流浪，要做homeless，去美国。。。好吧，虽然觉得成功主要靠选材，但处理上毫无滞涩，纯熟老练，而且是自己改编的剧本，赵导演眼看就是李安后又一个毫无违和的可以把握美国精神内核的来自东方的导演。。。
很喜欢这样的公路片，安静而不戏剧化，几乎所有的戏剧性都来自真实的生活。麦克多蒙德演这个角色简直不要太有说服力，倔强地永远在路上，在漂泊中渐渐疗愈自己。相信到最后她真正说服了自己，是无房可归，而非无家可归，这种强大的人生前进力量，就是影片的成功所在。
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