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."
恐怖的是我也变成男主那样读不进书、靠消消乐消解压力苟活的家伙了。
恋爱是动态的，双方可以不同，也可以相互分享发掘爱好，交流深刻的思想，讨论解决面临的问题。不一起成长，没有思想互动，只一味地想维持之前的感觉，注定会因为步调不一致而走散。
观影习惯导致「刻意越轴」日渐失效的情况下，分手戏的越轴还是格外惹眼，山音一番不堪的言辞之后，再推到仿佛二人曾经的场景，这种对映属于直接捅泪腺啊。
只能说世界摧毁了文学吧，架纯妹子的阅读谱系真高级文青，普通文青够不来（5.24影院重温，人生啊，还是要按照自己喜好去过，死活才都不悔恨
感觉是十年前豆瓣恋爱小组认识的两个人，后来男的工作太忙，不上豆瓣了。
进入社会后，亲密的关系也很可能会渐行渐远，所以珍惜在一起的每一天。不是你不好，是我们要走的路不同
日本的片子经常会抓到一些在真实世界里存在却过于平常以至于遗忘了的细节…包括男女生的思维差异。男生从有压力开始，感情的不愉快一直想分手，却因为最后一天的快乐便想用结婚来挽回，女生从鼓励理解到笑着隐忍，最后还是看透了两人回不去的步伐选择做那个先开口的恶人，放了手。从缘分邂逅到相识相知再到白头偕老，哪一步走错了，走快了，走慢了，就再也无法回到从前了…
有多喜欢前半段，就有多不喜欢后半段，还是把一个轻盈的梦幻故事划向了窠臼般坚硬现实。
大人だから～是不是不长大就可以永远在恋爱中了呢？不过我才不要找文青谈恋爱，有一个喜欢喵喜欢可爱生物的彼氏就足够了！
坂元味真的重。这个如果在国内拍大概就是5分左右，国内大概会加很多轰轰烈烈的争吵。但其实很多东西还是公式，初识+热恋+现实教做人，坂元已经是这个公式发挥很好的了，花束般的恋爱，很贴题。但怎么说呢，突破这个公式的人物才能让故事有更难忘的记忆吧
前半部分甜晕了 “我心脏跳动的声音盖过了吹风机的声音” “我的人生目标就是和你维持现状” 可惜不能停在这里 看哭的地方是分手后看到共同感兴趣的话题或者新闻会想不知道ta会怎么看这个事情
坐下来，回到最初的地方，回溯一切，看着新的故事开始，表达感谢，挥手再见。爱要勇敢，分手更是。下一次，下一次还要有这样的勇气。
看到最后哭得不能自己。这世间的遗憾真的太多太多了，百分百契合的两个人，爱的那么深的两个人，最后都很难在一起，再美好的爱情都会在现实面前，在琐碎面前，在一次一次的争吵面前，都可以消耗殆尽。最难受的是，分开后，任何关于爱情的东西都会让我想到她，那种难以自拔的痛。花束般恋爱也有凋零的花期，只是所以的回忆犹如花粉，无处不在，气味暗藏。所以，真的真的，遇到自己爱的那个人，请你一定要成熟，一定要坚定，遗憾，是世上最无力的感受。
男主不接受画画的压榨接受公司的压榨
后劲可真大啊。餐厅那一对和我们好像，看着他们想到我们，不禁破防。
ps:两个人聊的东西都好表面，报菜名一般说了一堆名词，然后浅尝辄止，像极了大学时代考试周1天学习一门非专业课的我、
网上看的，未曾想到竟然是惊喜。两个小时没有任何尿点。可能是中国式观念在作祟，看到最后还是心里期望他们能走在一起。分开或许难以避免，小麦工作只是表面原因，两个人对爱的不同认知才是真正的症结。小麦觉得结婚不需要爱情，有物质生活就可以；而绢却过度在意精神世界的契合。但或许真正的答案就是精神和爱情都不可或缺。真正的爱是无法没有精神的，而所谓百分百地契合不可能存在于世，如果两个人真的完美一致了，其实也未必能生出爱情。两个人选择了两种极端，这是可惜的地方，如果都能往各自的方向靠近一下，他们就是一对神仙眷侣了。
总体印象是蛮俗套的文艺败给现实题材，男女主的文艺取向像双胞胎，如果是我遇到会觉得很可怕。想吐槽的点：1. 说好听音乐要戴两只耳机呢？2. 996太害人了说好5点下班呢？3. 第三年就有分手迹象拖到第五年，说起来你俩不是才上班三年么？4. 我也喜欢用巴西输7个球安慰自己哈哈 5. 男主怪女主不为前辈之死伤心，可她为面包店倒闭伤心你也没理啊 6. 男主是结婚狂吗我也想选小田切让！ 7. 结尾女主哭得太美了，最升华的一段。
文青的感情从乍见之欢到离别两欢这么看下来还是挺单纯的，坂元裕二真的对细节的铺陈太到位了，甚至一度怀疑影片角色恰好完全就投射在自己身上，严丝合缝。这部电影给大家提了个醒，该玩玩该浪浪想躺平就躺平，活的太累会丢失太多宝贵的东西了。（ps希望不会被买版权拿回来瞎几把改编谢谢
日式小清新的爱情变化日常，却莫名的普遍性，品出某哲学家说过资本主义的压榨下很难有爱情？感动的是——他们对彼此真尊重，真好——无论是不得已找工作，或是分手过程时的温暖。这是我见过最健康的分手。末尾男主又拾回了看实景地图的中二，故事还会继续么？ 时间会给出惊喜
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