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."
73//还是鼓励性四星。主观上太反感表演上的瑕疵，以至于难以识得剧作妙处，但确中意最后的30分钟——第三幕的热闹真是漂亮：主要角色互相关注或被关注，人物身上被洒满有温度目光，且他们用耀眼的姿态回报观众期待；最后一个悬念出现时，善良的群像用干净的激情将鼓点打出如心脏砰砰的石破天惊；舞狮化作英雄花，神气以真狮显形，阿娟入了水，而狮头悬于擎天柱——对于引起观众的狂喜，这是多浪漫多可爱的写法。
2022.01.31 二刷粤语版，超多俗语超多梗，观感比普通话版好太多。以动画为叙事媒介，虽有些稍嫌夸张化违和的部分，却也反而得以刻画到了真人电影因拍摄或者审查限制所无法触及的现实边界。前半段没预期那么不堪，结尾高潮也没想像中那么燃，倒是中段因情感细节填充得足够翔实而相当动人。尽管模式套路化，依旧没忍住落泪了好几次。初看是个周星驰式小人物咸鱼翻身奋力向上的励志悲情喜剧，彩蛋却画风一转把主角拉回了不见尽头的劳碌现实。舞狮登顶的风光无限不过是对于先前旷日持久落魄挣扎的一次愤懑宣泄，再努力也难以看到出路才是这种生活的真正底色。二十多年前，大家或许还相信登上一个巅峰之后，一切都会开始变得更好，如今的励志文本之下则可能更多潜藏了对现实发出的诘问：“赢了又如何？” 而这个问题，又有谁能短时间内给出答案。
前半段不太行，后面从阿娟开始去打工逐渐好看了起来，整体还是不错的，里则林这个编剧的风格，似乎找到了比较正确的打开方式，那些中二的东西只有搭配二次元的呈现形式才会不那么违和。音乐很好，尤其是椅子乐队那首歌，居然可以这么用，离乡别井的打工人真的有深深被安抚到，哭了好久。
我淦哭死我了。千年的神话IP改编动画真的看腻了，感谢《雄狮少年》。主题很简单，但引发大面积共情。每个要素都为其服务得很好，成功不是偶然，剧情是核心生产力，绑定团队和特效团队都是1＋1＝∞的合作产能。开头的水墨动画让我感觉「爷童回」！上美厂还魂配上五条人《道山靓仔》，九连真人加上舞狮文化，把地方特色和地域民艺结合得很好。缺点是台词写得太白，几个喜剧包袱在我所在的影厅没响，对立面角色的脸谱化太严重，有点失真。
热血并不会贯穿一生，但只要有过信念 就足以照亮灰暗的时刻，该上山下山，路还是在脚下。喜欢朴实生动的乡村镜头和结尾的克制。
一颗星是对这个片子的评价。另一颗星是因为爱国，所以鼓励国人制作影片的不易。
除了為增加故事必要的戲劇性渲染外，其它在視聽所見所聞處，算是完全忠於大陸嶺南的真實風貌，沒有刻意去美化人物及環境。
真的很燃。被网爆也真的很惨。但是又有什么能避的过去ZZ呢？和妈妈一起看的这部电影，她说，最大的亮点是他哪怕打工也一直在屋顶上练习，从来没放弃。坚持就是生活的良药，不经历风雨怎能见彩虹？朋友们，加油。
无言的结局很动人，胜过多句喊口号的台词。无数个阿娟走进城市被钢铁森林吞没，只有在夜里他们的梦魂才会回来，轻轻走过佛前。心安处正是吾乡。
三星，最后所有狮队一起打鼓加0.5星。
技术、画面、分镜都很成熟了，但文本依旧弱鸡，请问你为什么要把中心思想像口号一样喊出来？这是广播剧，或者观众都是盲的吗？励志煽情都太生硬，以至于我当场开始怀念周星驰。主角进入广州后，有了点现实主义的清风，但导演还是不太会在喜剧片中处理苦难 （于是我又开始怀念周星驰）。另外一个问题就是插曲没用好。ending还是很高光，鼓点真的是太燃了，喜欢这一段！
2、某些人看不见少年身上的坚韧、勇敢、执着、热血，就看见了他长了一双不政治正确的眼睛。
经济真的不好了啊，这么多人都收钱了？试映后的风评如此虚高，其实更造成了观影后的失落，并不是一个好的营销策略啊。更何况还被人抓到了“眯眯眼”的点（真的很致命，造型太重要了！）。怎么说呢，并没有写好舞狮文化。农村的部分，也不符合人当地现实。男女两性角色的设计依然封建。总的来说，我不知道这部片想表现什么。追求梦想？舞狮并不是这些少年的梦想，好像赚钱或变强才是。但又看不到他们在正确地努力，也就实在无法让我产生共情。整个儿就是个不，理，解。为最后那个狮头挂杆加一星吧……211229
那些停留在港片黄金年代的喜剧节奏象征了一种留守的时间感，总是有点迟缓。整部动画都甘愿停留在这一步，也并不忌讳地照搬模仿，每个部分都本分地完成了叙事功能，老旧的场景包涵老套的叙事。一种似乎“新”的银幕形象出现，往往也只是慢了现实二十几年的延迟，这种时间落差也是一种精神留守啊。
国漫中难得的现实底色，平凡生活中的平庸怒吼，奇迹虽未发生，但作为一种现实的象征存在于真实的生活之中。周边一群小孩子看得嘻嘻哈哈说说笑笑，好似只有我一人看得笑中带泪，死去活来。怎么还会有人信李白，怎么还有人不认命，看得数次哽咽，这个世界总是太寂静，听不到一丝愤怒与嘶吼，这个世界太需要这样一种勇气和力量了，尽管我们都将埋头生活，但作为一种姿态，能够支撑着我们度日。
文本和音乐跳脱出商业用法，告五人、九连真人深度服务于剧情的方言歌词自带地区文化色彩；从广播里的少年强则国强，到挨打后听到的红日初升其道大光，最后内化成腾跃时的雄狮腾渊鳞爪飞扬。
人物外形尤其女性太粗糙（很多女性特写镜头让人不舒服），头发细节不够，明明舞狮根根毛发都能做到随风摆动
梦想不是绝对不能实现，也不是绝对能实现。但是如果有，一定要珍惜。因为那是你为数不多能够用来战胜一次世俗的武器。
现实主义的人文关怀介入一定消解了无厘头与励志类型片的俗气，些许故意煽情但有效，文戏一般台词依然没能跳脱国产式尬
8/10。开篇通过忽远忽近的镜头平移和追拍效果，将街道上每处店面、水塘和阿娟骑车蹬上的坡道都绘制成宏大的乡镇空间，并且色彩光线上多次运用丁达尔效应表现树丛中藏身的大佛像、咸鱼强所处店铺的脏乱与苍蝇乱飞，以及阿娟睡在民工宿舍时的下铺地板，反应了日常生活的生存压力，而剃头晒黑（去女性化）的阿娟提着狮头到屋顶，望向从夹缝射出阳光的高楼大厦，这种难以逾越的社会认同和象征中心权威的擎天柱等同，在此狮头可以视为阿娟的代具，他飞跃赛场密集的高桩，将狮头挂上擎天柱的顶端是实现一种突破，那一刻狮头的毛和配饰逐渐消散变成一头真狮，完成了少年内在的自我转变。遗憾的是尽管影片有周星驰式的市井幽默，如怕带错路的蹒跚老人一溜烟逃走、功练得地上咸鱼翻身、流鼻血和母老虎等，但荒诞之处只有阿强那双彩虹烟雾般熏翻其他选手的臭脚气。
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