以色列秘密安全组织“辛贝特”(Shin Bet)的6位前领导人讲述了该国1967年之后的历史，包括那些公开的和不为人知的历史。如果你认为你理解中东，那么你必须看看这部纪录片，它会让你大开眼界。　　辛贝特是以色列的国家安全机构，主要负责保卫国内首脑和外国来访政客的人身安全。他们的座右铭是“看不见的盾”，在任何时候他们的成员姓名都是保密的，只有领导人的名字会被披露出来。辛贝特是一个很成功的组织，有些人对他们颇有微词，包括他们刑讯逼供的不择手段，再有就是1995年他们没能阻止对当时总统拉宾的暗杀。　　在以色列历史上，曾有过十三任的首领。而在过去三十年里，只有六个人有资格统领这个机构。此前，他们从未接受过任何采访，在导演德赫-莫雷赫的镜头前，他们第一次打开了话匣。“到底是什么让他们决定道出有关这个组织的秘密和运作方式？”从1980年任职的亚伯拉罕-沙洛姆，到2011年刚刚卸任的尤瓦尔-迪斯金，他们以充满自信和挑衅的口吻谈论了以色列的秘密行动、审讯手段和反恐措施。这些处于机构最高级别的人，深知许多政权内幕，而未来在他们眼中却是一片黯淡……　　【幕后制作】　　以色列导演德赫-莫雷赫的灵感来源于2003年的奥斯卡最佳纪录片《战争迷雾》。那时，莫雷赫刚刚制作完关于以色列前总理阿里埃勒·沙龙的电影，他意识到辛贝特在过去的四十年里在政坛扮演了决定性的角色。阿米-阿亚隆是六位辛贝特首领中第一个同意接受采访的。基于这个组织的机密性，他们之前谁都没有这种采访的经验，莫雷赫准备的很多话题不是涉及机密就是太过敏感。　　尽管有这些困难，莫雷赫还是惊喜于阿亚隆的积极配合态度，他不仅欣然接受访问还帮忙联系其他幸存下来的辛贝特前任领导成员：亚伯拉罕-沙洛姆、亚科夫-佩瑞、迦米-吉隆和阿维-迪西特。而第六位辛贝特首领尤瓦尔-迪斯金在接受采访时还在任期中。虽然这些人都愿意加入影片的拍摄，但在最初有些人不愿意谈论自己经历过的政治事件，比如沙洛姆便不愿意谈起自己在公交车劫持事件和处决恐怖分子中扮演的角色，尤其是随后的丑闻直接导致了他离职。不过，随着时间的推移和莫雷赫的沟通与鼓励，关于这一事件的访谈已经成为了电影重要的一部分。　　片中主要涵盖的是1967年之后的以色列历史。辛贝特不属于军队机构，而是直接听命于国家总统，它作为以色列体制的一部分而存在，有时候它也是政客犯错误时的公共替罪羊。在1967年之后，辛贝特绝大部分的工作重心都放在约旦河西岸和加沙地带的反恐情报收集。导演和几位辛贝特成员，虽然观点不太相同，但都认为在现今的路径下，以色列很可能收获苦果。而至于巴以冲突，莫雷赫说：“和平是可能的。问题是以色列缺乏领导力，在历史上没有什么领导人愿意和巴勒斯特好好沟通。”

　　The spirit of a comatose teenage girl possesses the body of a newcomer to her girls boarding school to enact bloody revenge against the elitist, lingerie-clad coeds responsible for her condition.

　　让•皮斯吉克（Bogumil Kobiela博古米尔•科别拉 饰）是一个一生走背运的小人物，在家中经常被裁缝老爹修理，在学校里又被同学欺负。长大后英俊帅气，却因为大鼻子而被当作犹太人区别对待。做家庭教师时拥有了初恋，结果稀里糊涂卷入一场游行，被军警胖走一顿，随后丢掉了工作和爱情。他又立志参军，千辛万苦赶到报到地点却发现这里已是一座空城，结果又因好奇穿上波兰军官制服而被纳粹投入集中营。在监狱中他假戏真做，扮作高级军官，谎言揭穿后，他又被同伴当作间谍对待。战争终于结束，皮斯吉克重获自由，在新的社会体制下他将如何生存？

Mannheim-Heidelberg International FilmfestivalYearResultAwardCategoryRecipient(s)1969 Won Grand PrizeDusan HanákA government official in Czechoslovakia mistakenly believes he has cancer. He reasons his involvement in clandestine activities during the Stalin administration have fated him to die from a dreaded disease. He searches for inner peace as he feels the guilt of his past transgressions. This film tied for the Grand Prize at the Mannheim Film Festival in 1969.Slovak director Dusan Hanak was one of Czech cinema's brightest and best talents of the '60s and '70s, but because of censorship this was not manifest until the late '80s. Dusan made an impact on the film world with his auspicious debut 322 (1969). Though banned until 1988, when it was finally released, it earned international acclaim and the Grand Prix award at the Mannheim Film Festival. Hanak's sophomore effort, the documentary Obrazy Stareho SvetaImage of an Old World (completed in 1972), was also not released until 1988 and neither was his 1980 film Ja Milujem, Ty MilujesI Love You, You Love. Only Hanak's 1976 film Ruzove SnyRose-Tinted Dreams passed muster with censors and saw a timely release.

　　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."

　　杨·南曼奇在捷克新浪潮的地位，类似于雷奈在法国新浪潮一样。这是他的第一部剧情长片，描绘两个犹太男孩在被送往死亡集中营的途中，从火车上逃脱，被迫在乡野展开挣扎，艰难地求生存的故事，看似具备写实的基础，却被混合了幻想的影像，以及自由跳跃的叙事所重组。

故事发生在1967年的布拉格，圣诞节即将来临，家家户户都沉浸在节日的喜悦气氛之中。16岁的少年米修（迈克尔·贝兰 Michael Beran 饰）暗恋着邻居家的女孩金德诺（克里斯蒂娜·科胡托娃 Kristýna Nováková 饰），无奈落花有意流水无情，而两家人之间的关系也并不亲密，米修小小年纪就饱尝了求而不得的痛苦滋味。　　之后，金德诺的母亲去世了，而她的父亲居然爱上了米修的阿姨，因为这段姻缘，两家人重修旧好，米修终于找到了机会向金德诺倾诉了他深藏已久的爱意，但金德诺对于这段感情似乎十分怯懦。金德诺即将跟随父亲前往伦敦游玩，面对离别，米修能够坚持自己小小的爱恋吗？

The subtitle of Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet’s first feature, from 1965, “Only Violence Helps Where Violence Reigns,” suggests the fierce political program evoked by their rigorous aesthetic. The pretext of the film, set in Cologne, is Heinrich Böll’s novel “Billiards at Half Past Nine,” which they strip down to a handful of stark events and film with a confrontational angularity akin to Bartók’s music that adorns the soundtrack. The subtlest of cues accompany the story’s complex flashbacks. The middle-aged Robert Fähmel tells a young hotel bellhop of persecutions under the Third Reich; his elderly father, Heinrich, an architect famed for a local abbey, recalls the militarism of the First World War, when his wife, Johanna, incurred trouble for insulting the Kaiser. A third-generation Fähmel is considering architecture, just as the exiled brother of Robert’s late wife, returns, only to be met by their former torturer, now a West German official taking part in a celebratory parade of war veterans. Straub and Huillet make the layers of history live in the present tense, which they judge severely. The tamped-down acting and the spare, tense visual rhetoric suggest a state of moral crisis as well as the response—as much in style as in substance—that it demands.

“捷克新浪潮电影的黑暗、诡异的奇葩” 捷克奇幻电影杰作选之《魔格亚纳》　　风靡全球的捷克奇幻电影魅力！　　导演： 乔拉．赫兹　　影片简介一个家庭因为财产分配上的矛盾,姐姐购买了使人产生幻觉的毒药,给妹妹使用了,可是并没有使自己得到需要的东西,幕后隐藏的黑手到底是谁呢？

Characterized by deconstructivism and philosophical references and by briefly exposing the good, bad, and ugly periods of the country's history, this post-modern film portrays the abstract need for guidance of Germany following the fall of the Berlin Wall.