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."
质感出挑，单场戏很棒，整体却力有未逮，端着而无法下沉。倒是奥斯卡·伊萨克，头发一梳，从头有型到尾。
三星半。有种有意为之的松散，似乎映照的是角色的心理感受
85/100 整部電影以牌局和復仇兩條簡單的線索同時推進，不過施拉德對兩者都進行了大篇幅的留白處理，我們既不明晰牌局的規則，也不清楚復仇的細節，更不知道用白床單籠罩整個房間的意義，換言之，我們是這部電影的旁觀者，只能遠遠地觀望，並非直接參與者。施拉德有意地簡化了過程（牌局的部分幾乎是符號化的），只向我們展示前因與後果，這種布列松式的抽離設計貫徹全片，給人的感覺如同男主的撲克臉那般沈著冷靜。男主無疑是在牌桌上振臂高呼的美利堅先生光鮮外表的反面，他的過往代表了美國最不堪入目的陰暗面，但真正有權勢的階層是無需上桌的，是隱身的，就像背後支持的金主與全身而退的上校，手上沾血的永遠不會是他們，抱屈含冤的永遠只會是我們，因此這也是一部關於剝削與被剝削者之間博弈的電影。
被片名骗了，实际是说ptsd疗伤的事，说好的赌神呢！
满心期待想找，看下来跟扑克一点关系没有。 可能还是不够年纪看这种救赎的电影，压抑极了。
770｜不知为何，这种冷峻压抑的风格很吸引我。除去尴尬的情感线，这个故事是施拉德《出租车司机》《第一归正会》的延续，而算牌和白布等设定让整部电影更神秘，更迷人。别人不喜欢就算了，反正我很喜欢。
屋子里的东西都用白布包起来，到了前上校家，也是全都包起来的。you woke something in me. 可能是这个女人使得男主恢复了人性，他不得不去照顾这个男孩，他本来已经非人化了，他可以一直机器一样的存活下去。但是他被唤醒之后，就没法再机械的活着，他必须解决那个老头子，他必须面对自己旧日的罪恶。整个故事非常缓慢，可以说是一个平平无奇的故事，但还是看的很认真。都是面瘫表演，但是奥斯卡伊萨克的冷漠表情就很让人觉得恐怖啊，他那双眼睛仿佛联通了地狱，这还真不是一般人能演出来的。
想看施拉德拍《出租车司机》……性冷淡的表演搭配性冷淡的配乐营造出一种虚无的迷幻气息，而先验性的影像恰让观众看到了布列松新世纪通过数字媒介所延续的一种可能。Oscar Isaac可以说是年度最迷人的男性银幕形象，在存在主义的救赎中竟创造了反传统的皈依，而罪恶永远无法抹除，在审讯的囚牢中我们仍旧看到收敛的刺激感以及来自地狱深渊凝望人性的恶魔
主角和男孩相互救赎的主线引出战争对人的迫害。立意很好，拍得不咋地，四不像。
关塔那莫和拉斯维加斯一次拉郎配组合。讲精于计算的人孤注一掷，作死的历程。一大堆赔率和赌技渲染无非反衬出最后男主非理性的抉择。保罗施奈德似乎擅长这类心执异念，飞蛾扑火的悲剧人物命运设计。
虐囚事件和赌台之间戏码该如何权衡，似乎大成问题。披着赌片外衣的犯罪片。关于21点游戏规则介绍很科普。
基调和质感很不错 犯罪惊悚这个类型并不少见 人物很立体矛盾很合理 但这些优点随着剧情的推进慢慢的不见了 故事开始变得夸张浮躁 甚至在赌场中的镜头和气氛也变得很诡异男女感情戏也是没有任何作用 又是浪费脚本演员的典范
沉闷，Issac和Sheridan正常发挥，故意压平了character arc，反高潮地把能拍动作场面的事件都改成了第三人称叙述。气氛确实到位了，但也确实看得昏昏欲睡。
说实话，本作卡斯阵容也相当不错：
导演和音乐很不错，故事到后面有点崩，让我有些昏昏欲睡。
活在地狱，自动形成两种人：施暴者，被虐者。从地狱爬出来，名利算什么？一切扭曲的人性，为了自我保护，都会心理矫饰，或心安理得，因为自己不过是组织的工具而已。或麻木，或内疚，或暴力，或自我惩罚～～去爱，是一种解药。或许，所有我们想要的，都在反面。
看完唱起那首歌：万万没想到，万万没想到啊~
Oscar Isaac 梳着大背头，不知为何令我想起了旧好莱坞时的演员... 画面和配乐不错，调子极慢极隐忍，然而末尾却感觉戛然而止。
打牌的剧情和关于美军酷刑的剧情可以说是毫无关系了。配乐蛮好听
身体，灵魂，自我折磨（内疚、苦行、救赎...)，以及美国人的身份和对布列松的热爱：施拉德总在书写具有相似度的人物。美国先生几乎要立刻掌握了最高财富，在一个后911（居然在20周年的时候上映）、后伊拉克的时代，美国人将投入多少筹码到自己的国家？又或是伤害自己作为向国家的报复，酒店或许只是自我流放之地，获得救赎的概率微乎其微，去除了上一部的那些宗教因素，宗教之外的症结在哪？在最后，救赎只会以爱的形式出现，隔着监狱的两只手，在静态平面中身体在连续运动中暂停，这《创世纪》一般的姿势将某种自我意识神话化，试图集中所有唤起一些力量。在此之前的人物只是不会带来浸入感的空的容器，当然也是一种“布列松式的紧缩”—已经没人像这样拍电影了—如艾萨克工整清晰、纪律严明的手写文字，看上去没什么稀奇的也看似已经过时了。
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