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."
浓浓海派文化腔调，上海话嗲是嗲得咧，亲切感十足，每句台词都是高跟鞋踩在阁楼上的烟火气，每扇窗户后面都住着一个上海老克勒或王琦瑶。
观感就和看微博段子差不多油腻恶心那种，上海和上海女人被黑的最惨的一次，看到有博主把它比作国内版真爱至上诺丁山我要气疯了瞎成这样了吗！！！！
假模假样，侮辱智商。片中涉外形象（租户亚历山大、英国混血小女生）充斥着生造与漫画化，女性塑造甚至更为虚假不堪，全片散发着一种中年男心有不甘的性幻想气质。电影不忍卒观，后面剧情发展是家属告诉我的：徐峥的感情线没有实质进展，而自诩索菲亚罗兰前尘炮友的邻家男竟然受这位老女星在片场晕倒消息的刺激，酒后一命呜呼（！），身后被发现他的住房还真是欧洲人（暗指罗兰）出钱关照的（！！）。天方夜谭呀这是。徐峥父子戏还有点温暖的人情展现。其余如路边修鞋匠眼尖看出名牌高跟鞋售价一万多，并且出口就是英文长句，多属捏造，越显摆越暴露土劲儿。据一条，原来编导是才满30岁的九零后，外地人，剧本原先也是以普通话写的，年龄阅历不到，写中年人的感情世界还是隔靴搔痒啊。本来没想到是女生编导；所谓跳出男性凝视却落入女性脸谱化的窠臼。
年轻时多交几个文青做朋友，饭桌上打打机锋，不但预防老年痴呆，而且有人收尸，灵！
最出彩是睡了索菲亚罗兰的林教头
明白导演想举重若轻，却没感受到那份举重若轻，总感觉劲没到位。
隔靴搔痒无病呻吟，还有，找个穆斯林冒充意大利人，当观众是眼瞎？
如果一部电影真诚质朴生活化，我们会夸它接地气，但如果要接上海的地气则刚好相反，需要拿腔拿调的精致，这一点上《爱情神话》做的很好，我很喜欢里面那些拐着弯的抹不开的台词，那些话里有话的暧昧正好就是上海这座城市的气质，情人的爱、家人的爱、友人的爱就像一条暗河悄无声息地流淌进每个人的心里，一句话概括整部电影就是：爱情没有神话，生活不必庸常。
全天下男人都会犯的错男女换话，各生欢喜后跳一人的探戈也不稀罕你的画；
不过整体梗埋太多（包括导演自个儿的小趣味），又缺乏条理，使得整个片子变成了埋梗大作战。
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。
精致的像是一个网红书店，虽然有很多好的设计，但总体上怎么都喜欢不起来，一股劣质电视剧的味道
“爱情神话”感动我的点在于，它的迷影情结远不止于电影本身，而是因为电影的记忆浇灌了我们庸常的现实，我们得以存续、理解他人、建立联系，而这是电影给我最珍贵的东西。缺点是女性主义表达太过生硬，大银幕上听见“我替中国男导演道歉”和刻意的一些女权宣言，有种假他人之口承己之意的感觉，片尾那个《爱说教的男人》朋友圈分享还挺细节，多拍女人欲望，少让女人讲大话，也许会更好。
片中马伊琍、吴越、倪虹洁饰演的三位女性，性情不同，各有代表性，但都有程度不同的现代底色。从女性角度来看，这片有值得探讨的地方。对于影迷，专属梗不少。片名、片子的确和费里尼那部《爱情神话》有千丝万缕的关系。承担女神符号和欲望投射对象的，是意大利国宝女星。
精致的像是一个网红书店，虽然有很多好的设计，但总体上怎么都喜欢不起来，一股劣质电视剧的味道
永康路画画喝咖啡，五原路买果汁修皮鞋，东湖路蹦迪，外滩十八号办画展，饭桌上摆着桂花糖藕和春卷，汤碗里是甜滋滋的酒酿圆子，看电影要配上老大昌的苔条饼干和天玥桥路的蝴蝶酥……
能把‘一把年纪轧姘头’的市井故事讲得那么洋气，上海可以的。换个场景大概就是住纽约soho的大龄艺术家刷Tinder找date，约会要去off-Broadway看剧，然后一群人天台露台喝酒开派对的故事。
导演给自己刷三条5⭐可以吗？
若你问什么是爱情神话，辛苦做好了一桌子的菜等人落座，辛苦办了的画展目的不是画的人，不觉得白辛苦，没有回答。
和你们不一样，我是去看宁理的，而且因为讨厌爱情题材所以期待很低，看完居然老满意额。上海话亲切，音乐不觉得出戏，大话不觉得刻意，刻板印象不觉得尴尬，看前在首页刷到的所有“问题”都不觉得是问题（甚至很多事我或我身边的人都亲身遇到过，比如虽然不是上海人，前段时间去上海电影节赶场停自行车时被拦住，我知道老乌当时那种不快。
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