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."
很多配音都换了 台配也没有以往的情怀了 加上这部之前看预告就不是很期待 大部分时间也没有太多笑料 但是末尾隔夜内裤要小新把自己扯开去拼凑完成巨幅不理不理左卫门画像的时候眼睛莫名其妙湿了 因为人家再也不要跟任何人分开 听到这句话有种很奇怪的心疼的感觉 新年第一哭居然献给了一部子供向动画
其实这个标题就很棒了，约4位勇者。娜娜纸，胖次，左卫门，佐马，小新，大家都是勇者，大家都拯救了世界
近两年比较好看的一部剧场版了：情节还是挺一波三折的；小新画的几个人物都很感人，一个会默默的把椅子放放好温柔大姐姐，一个自我牺牲的吐槽小裤裤，以及只要有肥嘟嘟出场它每次都是会是最亮点。涂鸦王国的一些配角画风总让我想到魔方大厦。
感觉又恢复到以前剧场版那味了，太好哭了！！！好感动！到最后升华真的牛，娜娜子问那些画纸人偶是谁，小新说，他们是我的救世英雄😭😭😭娜娜子，小内裤，不理不理左卫门
7.5分
剧情方面，是一如既往的拯救世界的题材，这次的冒险既不是和伙伴也不是家人，是「大约四个勇者」。可惜在于，这个精神内核，友情与纯真，作为子供向有点难以理解，作为成人向也太过初级，或许制作组对于自己的定位其实也很迷茫吧。
小新不说我爱你，但小新会通过“松紧带会松掉哦”“你本来就是一条隔夜内裤诶”来表达，我舍不得你。相较21年的剧场版，涂鸦王国的剧情稍显低幼，但也不乏会令观众动容的情节。
当然我觉得最好笑的还是肥嘟嘟左卫门第二次出现的场景哈哈哈哈
好像比上一部好看，猜中套路，迷惑中带有鬼畜和感动，新酱依然是不流泪的勇者，美伢戏份太少，还是喜欢看他们家庭琐事些
前半部分看的时候困得不行，但到后面泪点不断攻击。“我也救了我自己的老妈，佑马也能找到自己的妈妈，真是太好了。”将心比心，和身后一味责怪的大人鲜明对比，从这里开始，哭到不行。
近几年的蜡笔小新剧场版都是这样，说差吧，总有一些片段让人印象深刻，说好吧，比起早些年的还是有些差距，
这个对大人和孩子的态度，堪称是大人帝国反击战的镜像版……大人逃避和逃走的方式从来没变，丢失-寻找-逃避-面对的过程，也算是作为创作者的一群大人对于童真的浪漫主义，但我不想他一次次经受考验，因为看到小新总要做最坚强的那个，总要在想哭的时候扭过头错开视线带笑带闹，我真的会哭。
好像比上一部好看，猜中套路，迷惑中带有鬼畜和感动，新酱依然是不流泪的勇者，美伢戏份太少，还是喜欢看他们家庭琐事些
尽管蜡笔小新的原班人马都在陆续地更替，但依旧能感受到这个五岁小孩以及周围的那些故事一直在努力传承下去。就好像臼井仪人老师去世的那一段时间，一直会担心小新会不会就此断载，但事实是总有热爱的人撑下去了。日本的动漫之所以会是全世界的状态，就是因为它更具有想象力，更能打动或者激发人的内心。其实这部剧场版因为涂鸦所以更像是诠释了“蜡笔小新”，能拿画笔的勇士就是能自由自在涂鸦的人，随心所欲。小新就是这么一个“没心没肺”又好色的小屁孩，但关键时候总能治愈你的绝望，这就是一个孩子的童真。遗憾的是我们所有大人在这繁忙的社会中早都丢失了童真，也忘记了自己也曾是个孩子。虽然很难，但希望我们都可以再捡起蜡笔，也拾回我们的童真。
每个人的内核都是肥嘟嘟左卫门 表面善内里不定 但是再往里深入 还是善良的 我们都会时常表现出恶的一面 但是只要稍加引导多点思考 我们都是内心善良的人 不论是孩子还是大人 绝不让危机和罪恶磨灭我们人性的光辉 人类的伟大就是勇气的伟大 人类的赞歌就是勇气的赞歌 新诺思楷你最棒 我们永远爱你
受不了告别，更受不了告别后，还要假装无所谓（哭
好看！虽然不习惯新的小新配音，但是好励志好鸡血。
吃老本也不用心点，看样子是没东西了，还每年一部，你行吗？
这部煽情度控制得很好。小新，我喜欢你
为我们带来了快三十年快乐的蜡笔小新，每年都会在春日部为我们带来新的感动。这是个很残酷现实的世界，因为有小新的存在，才可以让我们在这世界中得以保持那么一丝童真。
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