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."
晚安，早上好，谢谢，再见，所有的evangelion，所有的孩子们。
一个传奇温柔的结束了，再见，所有的EVA
遇事不决意识流吗……回归圆满固然好，但远没有旧版来得震撼。庵野秀明的脑洞和想象力确实空前绝后，没有任何铺垫也能把高潮顶的让人张目结舌，但回归故事本身还是欠缺了完整作品本该有的层叠推进和流畅感。很遗憾。或许就和故事本身要表达的一样，不完美的ending才是ending吧。以及最后一直说要弑神，但更多其实是神（渚薰）和近神（唯）对人的爱拯救了人类。人在最后结局能做的，只是不停的告别，和每一个人，包括自己和解。爱是意识宇宙中的光，只有充分了解爱，才能在反宇宙（意识宇宙）中挽救物质世界，从而续写人类文明史。且按照熏的自述，真空衰退他才会消失，那物质世界继续，亚当也依然存在，物质世界的完结在时间流逝中走向必然，只是不再在庵野秀明的笔下了。
文戏和武戏的割裂，想起第一部用大半部讲述如何开出一枪的震撼，也随着世界观的庞大慢慢没有那么喜欢了。 不过这次大家都没有那么痛苦，回归“正常生活”，黑白素描，线稿，都更感人。
One Last Kiss为原子化的我们提供了重新尝试联结的鼓励与慰藉，但比起温柔到近乎融化的最终告别，我果然更在乎前一小时的第三村生活。如果说一个人们试图拥抱不完整的对方、努力突破隔阂生活下去的世界名为现实的话，那片仅存于核心化土地中央的净土恰恰是我不愿放弃的希望：相互理解在生存的实践中得以达成，基于互助的共同体正是比弑神抑或成神更拥有人性光辉和无限可能的补完形式。
哭只是释放自我，救不了任何人……
谢谢你，庵野秀明。
曾经我非常害怕，不知道如何面对，面对父亲，面对喜欢的人，面对朋友，面对同学，面对这突如其来的命运和世界。我躲避躲避躲避，但总是躲不掉。直到有一天，我知道了，哪怕是在神的世界里，在无限庞大的世界里，我所能做的，也就只有告别过去，然后长大。长大了呢，恭喜你，碇真嗣。我们都曾像你一样，也必然会说再见。再见，在长大后的世界，再见！
2001年小学时地方电视台第一次看。2013年看剧场版才知道是当年的《天鹰战士》。不可能引进，票没法补了，车可以先上。
EVA 在我心目中一直是神秘主义、反类型动画的代名词，新剧场版的转变大概也是庵野导演自身心态的转变吧。尤其是片尾从月台切入实景，仿佛在号召御宅族回归现实生活 www
遇事不决意识流吗……回归圆满固然好，但远没有旧版来得震撼。庵野秀明的脑洞和想象力确实空前绝后，没有任何铺垫也能把高潮顶的让人张目结舌，但回归故事本身还是欠缺了完整作品本该有的层叠推进和流畅感。很遗憾。或许就和故事本身要表达的一样，不完美的ending才是ending吧。以及最后一直说要弑神，但更多其实是神（渚薰）和近神（唯）对人的爱拯救了人类。人在最后结局能做的，只是不停的告别，和每一个人，包括自己和解。爱是意识宇宙中的光，只有充分了解爱，才能在反宇宙（意识宇宙）中挽救物质世界，从而续写人类文明史。且按照熏的自述，真空衰退他才会消失，那物质世界继续，亚当也依然存在，物质世界的完结在时间流逝中走向必然，只是不再在庵野秀明的笔下了。
居然忘记评分了！感觉自己当初看tv对明日香的好感全部是无意义的
依旧废柴了1/3时间的男主，突然大彻大悟变成清醒且成长的模样，接着我惊讶（没有惊喜）地发现，原来男主的巨婴颓废自私中二，都完美继承其父亲。
碇真嗣话疗时间结束。我不接受渚薰跟丽在一起！！！！
我从八岁开始看eva看到二十八岁愣还是看不懂
不如说，所有人都在寻找生命中缺失那一环，只有剑介能给明日香宽阔的肩膀和完全包容和保护，类似父母的爱；只有真希波不计较自己，不在意真嗣的过去，愿意用爱包裹他，仿佛重回母体一般让真嗣觉得温暖可靠；也只有与碇唯一起不论生或死，存在或消失，碇源堂才能得到最终救赎。每个人都为内心缺少的那一环双手在空中挥舞，希望能抓到自己缺失的，需要补完的部分。
可能孩子与父母的宿命就是对抗 后长大的那个人注定要痛苦 一阵子
一个时代的终结…shinji终于成长，认清弱小的父亲和自己，在最后一幕母亲的庇护下告别释然，泪奔…粉丝门槛天花板高端日漫…asaka还是rei，才是千古难题…
泪奔告别青春，持续20多年的系列大作结尾，谁能想到监督最终选择了让孩子长大脱宅回归生活向
遇事不决意识流吗……回归圆满固然好，但远没有旧版来得震撼。庵野秀明的脑洞和想象力确实空前绝后，没有任何铺垫也能把高潮顶的让人张目结舌，但回归故事本身还是欠缺了完整作品本该有的层叠推进和流畅感。很遗憾。或许就和故事本身要表达的一样，不完美的ending才是ending吧。以及最后一直说要弑神，但更多其实是神（渚薰）和近神（唯）对人的爱拯救了人类。人在最后结局能做的，只是不停的告别，和每一个人，包括自己和解。爱是意识宇宙中的光，只有充分了解爱，才能在反宇宙（意识宇宙）中挽救物质世界，从而续写人类文明史。且按照熏的自述，真空衰退他才会消失，那物质世界继续，亚当也依然存在，物质世界的完结在时间流逝中走向必然，只是不再在庵野秀明的笔下了。
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