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."
个人一直以来不太喜欢徐峥，不喜欢他身上老练的精明的味道。但是不得不承认，他在这部片里的表演让我很满意。没想过有一天有机会在同一步片里看到吴越，马伊琍和倪虹洁，看到他们不再困于刻板的“妈妈”角色，在讲她们的情情爱爱，希望有越来越多适合她们的角色和片子～
【A－】整个2021观看体验最为舒心的国产电影，终于明白这种不带有意识形态的作品是多么难得。带着“国产版低配伍迪艾伦”的预期观看，却比预想中还丰富有趣。被彻底界定为上海本土化的，且局限于中产阶级的爱情喜剧，但又是绝对真诚的，且终于实现两性平衡的国产剧作。终于知道伍迪艾伦式的影像格调被嫁接至本土腔调会产生多大的魔力，唯一可惜的便是空间上对地域性的强调仍旧稍稍欠缺。以及结局，对费里尼的引用和哈欠只是幌子，哪怕众人的快进行为抵消了迷影者的自恋，导演真正想要致敬的《Mr.Robot》才是冷门到无需掩盖的闪光，被我逮到了吧。
挺好的，有那么点看woody allen的感觉，在轻松小品的表象下四两拨千斤地在做一些探讨性别和爱情的努力，摇摆于浪漫和现实之间激荡出火花。看到熟悉的街道和见证过类似生活的场景，会心一笑里又加深了对故事的信任度。
只有喜欢不喜欢
是我看过的今年最好看的华语电影，剧情节奏明快，沪语台词里带着上海特有的“嘲叽叽” ，编剧精准地捕捉到上海生活中的琐碎，是真正的当代与都市的感觉，有一种小而美在里面。优秀的演员班底，把三个女人一台戏表现的淋漓尽致
每个城市都应该有这样一部电影。一开始有点伍迪艾伦的感觉，后来就是全是白描，也不输出什么价值，就是展示一下生活的断片。有几个片段看得出是特别精心准备的，一点点小刻意，凝结出一点诗意。
由于平原上的火焰撤档，所以才临时看这个，但是真的超出预期了，年近五十的人也可以好浪漫啊
非常的平淡，上海话得一直看字幕很烦，语速还快，看的累死了。看完就像没看一样。。。
电子烟老师有点东西啊，整出点伍迪艾伦那意思了
徐峥是个好电影人。倪虹洁、马伊琍、吴越在大银幕上大放光彩。导演好几出戏都写得精妙无比。更意外的是，那位曾演过豹子头林冲、在初中时莫名把一个小姑娘给迷得不行的周野芒先生，这么多年过去，摇身一变成了一个更加有魅力的风流倜傥帅大叔，这电影里真的太多惊喜了。
富婆和ktv小鲜肉、男生化妆和父亲的冲突。都是女导演带来的银幕新视角。在电影院bgm和色彩好沉浸。
电影院看了不到十分钟我就想跑，也真的不喜欢听上海话… 还好奇怎么大家看起来都那么富裕，有几首歌蛮好听，但总觉得切入的特别生硬
我记得2000年左右（以前）的电影是这样的，说出来很不可思议，但真的电影这几年是越拍越烂，所以看到《爱情神话》竟然涌上一股股怀旧的心情。这样的都市片，虽然你知道生活里不可能有这么一群精彩的伶牙利嘴的角色，人这么少的咖啡店/酒吧/街道/弄堂，但就故事和人物而言，多少能从周围朋友的身上看到他们的影子。就算是艺术加工也是建立在某群真实的人物基础上的电影，这样就很好看，很动人。
太有趣了，以至于无法归类和总结。很妙很妙。上次有类似感觉是《独自等待》
被索菲亚•罗兰睡了叫爱情神话，被吴亦凡睡了叫啥？
段子手就别拍电影了，全是自恋小聪明，整体啥不啥，全片唯一真实的地方是男女主微信聊天的文字。
Life is not a Fellini film. 中国竟然也有这种聊天的电影了，几场戏的对话都太棒了！能闻到弄堂小巷里的烟火气。
“一个女人没有生过孩子是不完整的。一个女人没有造过一次反、没有赚过一百万才是不完整的。”
大概是当下华语都市爱情片能拍出的最好的样子，费里尼配蝴蝶酥，红烧肉搭Jimmy Choo，梧桐树下小弄堂里，每个角色都拥有自己的高光时刻。没有哪种生活方式不被包容，也没有哪种爱情观找不到落脚之处，上海值得这样的电影。
很舒服很慵懒，如果不是费里尼《爱情神话》浪漫的彩蛋，我更喜欢叫《友情神话》，我也希望多年后有一群挚友可以喝酒聚餐，最好的朋友为我，亦或是我为他策展，我或他的名字大大的放在那里，希望他走的比我早，我可以把共友聚一起给他扫墓，办追悼会，一起看他最想看的电影。
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