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."
generational trauma这种事，也不是一时半会能讲完的，还是多讲讲吧，热了是好事。主角Anthony的形象还是塑造得弱了点，那个被女友扶不上墙又想要一口气的劲儿老感觉还差那么一点儿。
存在这么一系列明显的“社科电影”，它们在影片中大声朗读出议题，并标记了一整套符号体系以凸显其主张——但它们偏偏是叙事性的；于是，故事成为元素，能量在积聚前就被指向，议题在丰富前就已固定，观众并不感受、并不观看，而仅是阅读。本片对中产社区生活的精致指向如同其所批判的内容一样虚伪：这只不过是另一立场的宣言，以及名为痛苦的痛苦
两星半，非常的meh。中途还有点想睡觉。这么一对比我司的Them真的不要太好看。。。
作为恐怖片，它是失败的，不管从什么角度来看，都不合格。但是作为一部可以过分解读的种族政治片来说，它可能是成功的。对于自己来说，没有观看1992年那部糖果人，在没有故事基础的情况下观看本片，效果是极差的，也奈何如此没有过度解读隐喻元素的能力。所以，总的来说就是，等了很久的片，满怀期待，结果大失所望，低分也在所难免。
可能是今年看过的最悲伤的故事
片子拍的还是很工整 但气氛实在是没烘托出来 想要表达一种口口相传的恐怖 但人物性格和情感都没有建立起来 还总想着平权的哪些事 结果是一件都没做好 演员就更加一言难尽 有种有力气没地方用的感觉 片子整个呈现出来的效果比较混乱 配乐也中规中矩
恐怖绝不该为政治让位。
普普通通吧，快結尾部分，黑人主角幾乎一身都是洞，那幾個畫面真的密集恐懼！！雞皮都豎起來了！！！
美国社会需要一位Candyman。
好多巧思，剪纸，不断撕扯腐烂的手皮，蜂巢蜜蜂，镜子中的人影，最爱的一个镜头，是从大厦由近及远，人被杀在窗户前，唯一难受的是对黑人脸盲，感觉男的都长得一样。
你可以用电影骗我听你说你想说的，我也可以用评分喊我他妈的不想听。
乔丹皮尔剧作的最大特点也是影片评论家所说的“太过直白激进”，从《逃出绝命镇》的新奇刺激到《我们》的还行，最后到这部彻底乏味，部分害怕氛围营造还行，但是全片的政治正确，种族主义，black lives matter的论调真是让人反感。
我的观影心态可能也正像看着那幅画欲言又止的他老婆。
吝于认知的景观封锁嵌住的不仅是如同蜂群般的恶灵附身。历史回望后的未来反复，才是真正的表达惊悚。
故事可以当作老版续集来看 鼓点配乐及霓虹画廊和剪纸的美术设定都透露出现代的美感 但远不能给人老版candyman口中吐出女主飞出蜂群的震撼 感觉candyman的精髓被通过洗衣房老板太具体太详尽地画像 甚至最后亲手制造 种族社群阶级的各种隐射都被泄了个底朝天 反而更都市传说似的入俗了 再精致包装的糖果也永远比不上蜂蜜甘甜 老版的高度终究难以企及啊
有点莫名其妙的，感觉不能算是好看，你说有政治隐喻吧我也看不太懂。
这就是一帮无聊的小bk，自个儿找死脑子玩儿（请大家用天津话理解我说的）
重新定义candyman，这个版本可能局内人看着更共情，但是作为局外人，这个故事我感觉还是老版本那种拍得很哀伤的感觉更好。
作为恐怖片我真的很喜欢，无论是片头的镜像还是片尾的剪影动画，光影技巧和有层次的配乐。然而所有精心雕琢的恐怖元素/惊悚氛围/美术特效都只为了一场种族斗争服务，看完只想大呼可惜。一是作为观众我无法对长久以来的黑人压迫和歧视问题共情，二是我理解导演想要表达的精神内核和她的愤怒，但片中描绘的剧情大部分现如今依然在现实世界上演，这部电影的作用也仅仅是呐喊而已。
政治正确的种族问题电影，恐怖片只不过是个噱头。
Copyright © 2015-2023 All Rights Reserved
