新現(xiàn)實主義和紀(jì)錄片，新聞報道的日常生活有什么區(qū)別？作為一個業(yè)余影迷，個人的感受和理解。

紀(jì)錄片或我們的日常生活其實是沒有焦點的，正如此刻在地鐵上的我放眼望去看到的就是現(xiàn)實，而新現(xiàn)實主義電影則在這個現(xiàn)實背景下把鏡頭對準(zhǔn)其中具有時代或主題特色的人物和事件，讓觀眾的注意力跟隨鏡頭的走向，跟隨故事主角的走向來一步步了解現(xiàn)實。所以說新現(xiàn)實主義電影并非單純的對現(xiàn)實的重放。而是對大量現(xiàn)實的觀察理解以后，抽離出其中的典型人物和事例并對其進(jìn)行文學(xué)戲劇化處理，比如對立角色或?qū)α⒘龅慕?，劇情的設(shè)計性也會顯而易見。同時根據(jù)戲劇性的現(xiàn)實再創(chuàng)作，讓觀眾的觀影體驗擁有強(qiáng)烈的現(xiàn)實感和參與度，由于故事和人物脫胎于現(xiàn)實，并且基本運用實景和非職業(yè)演員，從而使得觀眾不自覺間就帶入自己日常生活的感受，隨著劇情的發(fā)展做出相應(yīng)的現(xiàn)實中可能出現(xiàn)的情緒波動，以此達(dá)到讓觀眾更好的感受生活，思考生活的目的。

在這個理解下去看羅西里尼的戰(zhàn)爭三部曲，會發(fā)現(xiàn)他的偉大之處。

羅馬不設(shè)防的城市拍攝于1945年，戰(zhàn)火拍攝于1946，德意志零年拍攝于1948年。在二戰(zhàn)剛結(jié)束的時間里，羅西里尼并沒有鼓吹戰(zhàn)爭勝利的榮耀和偉大，而是反思戰(zhàn)爭不同階段對所有處于戰(zhàn)爭下的人民造成了怎樣無法挽回的傷害。在我看來這是得冒風(fēng)險的，政府向來可不喜歡宣揚人民的悲慘。

其次，三部電影之間的連續(xù)性，思考觀察的角度的豐富性也極大的提升了電影的質(zhì)量。羅馬不設(shè)防的城市講述的是1944年德國占領(lǐng)羅馬后，羅馬各階層職業(yè)的人民對抗德國侵略者的事跡，這是還處于被侵略統(tǒng)治時的意大利。戰(zhàn)火通過六個幾乎沒有聯(lián)系的短片故事串聯(lián)出在德國節(jié)節(jié)敗退的背景下，意大利不同地區(qū)不同階層人民的困苦。而德意志零年則是立足于戰(zhàn)敗后的德國，在柏林廢墟上刻畫了一個戰(zhàn)敗國孩子怎樣一步步經(jīng)歷無奈絕望到最后弒父自殺的故事。戰(zhàn)爭對人性的摧殘一步步加深，戰(zhàn)爭的荒誕在故事的凸顯下更顯得可笑又讓人無助。

羅馬不設(shè)防的城市劇情跌宕起伏，對現(xiàn)實的把握和對故事走向的控制精確且細(xì)膩。主角看似是英勇就義共產(chǎn)黨人和違背了教義卻信守正義的神父，可在我看來那群父母被殺害，抱有對侵略者的無盡仇恨卻仍不失孩童的質(zhì)樸善良的孩子們才是影片真正的主角，因為他們代表著終將到來的善良和正義，因為他們是未來。只是如此的劇情設(shè)計過于刻意化，不是不好只是沒有最好。所以有了更好的兩部。

戰(zhàn)火由六個基本不相關(guān)的短片組成，通過六個看似不相關(guān)的短片讓我們看到了盡管戰(zhàn)爭即將結(jié)束，戰(zhàn)斗節(jié)節(jié)勝利可戰(zhàn)爭的后遺癥卻永遠(yuǎn)的留在了經(jīng)歷戰(zhàn)火的人民身上。每個短片之間的轉(zhuǎn)折都很迅速，當(dāng)我還在感動于語言不通的美國大兵和意大利女孩之間的友情和思鄉(xiāng)之情時，他們就死于德國軍人槍下，然后第二個故事開始了。前一秒在意大利當(dāng)警察的美國黑人還在醉酒唱歌，下一秒他就被意大利貧民窟的破財凄慘驚慌到奪路而逃。鏡頭由此一轉(zhuǎn)，羅馬被解放了?？墒墙夥藕蟮牧_馬人生活也并沒有很好。曾經(jīng)熱情可愛的意大利女孩也成了和大多數(shù)人一樣的站街小姐，而對她戀戀不忘的美國大兵把他魂牽夢繞的姑娘當(dāng)作妓女的地址隨手扔了。之后下一個故事開始了，一個想去找當(dāng)了游擊隊隊長的美國護(hù)士和想去找家人的意大利男人經(jīng)歷戰(zhàn)火的過程，而導(dǎo)演沒有告訴我們結(jié)果只是讓一個掩護(hù)他們的游擊隊員死在護(hù)士面前。第五個故事就在節(jié)節(jié)勝利的盟軍腳步下開始了，三個借宿修道院的美國大兵和院士之間的矛盾，因為有一個人是猶太教一個不信教，而這個短片在軍隊神父對信仰自由支持的演講下結(jié)束。最后一個故事發(fā)生于德國投降的前幾個月，而一群游擊隊員和盟軍飛行員終究沒能等來最后的幾個月，陪同援助他們的村民一起被殘忍屠殺。

相對于羅馬不設(shè)防的城市，戰(zhàn)火每個短片之間甚至沒有關(guān)聯(lián)，戲劇性也因此減弱但同時由于導(dǎo)演對于每個結(jié)尾戛然而止的把握十分精確，讓人在感受到戰(zhàn)火對人性摧殘以后并沒有給觀眾過多感傷的時間，這正暗符現(xiàn)實的倉促。所以這部電影的現(xiàn)實性更濃烈，但也由于戲劇性的減弱，故事間的低邏輯關(guān)聯(lián)性所以觀看難度不低。

而最后一部德意志零年簡直有些令人絕望。雖說感受到了絕望我們才會珍惜美好，才能克服絕望。只是這樣現(xiàn)實的絕望和壓抑還是有些難受的。

戰(zhàn)后的柏林，一個12歲男孩撐起一個家庭的重?fù)?dān)。可就算如此，社會還不給他撐起重?fù)?dān)的權(quán)利，懦弱的大哥害怕曾當(dāng)過兵的經(jīng)歷被處罰整日躲在家里，患有重病的父親每天臥床不起，而姐姐則無奈每天晚上出去出賣身體補(bǔ)貼家用。在如此情景下，小男孩被曾經(jīng)的老師誘騙去賣希特勒的演講，而他反而從中獲得了生存的動力和意義，著實有些諷刺。而最后老師不經(jīng)意的誘導(dǎo)和指示，把男孩推向了弒父的深淵，而當(dāng)他弒父之后卻受到了老師的指責(zé)。家庭，社會，信仰所有都崩塌了，而他只是一個想踢球，跳格子的12歲男孩，他又如何去承受這一切崩塌后的結(jié)果。結(jié)尾，在他最后一次玩了滑滑梯后，捂臉流淚看著自己曾經(jīng)生活的地方，自己弒父的地方，沒有一絲猶豫跳樓自殺了。

開頭是男孩挖墳?zāi)蛊谕@得工作機(jī)會養(yǎng)活家人，結(jié)尾是男孩跳樓自殺結(jié)束生命。戰(zhàn)爭到底對他，對我們，對人類做了些什么呀。

現(xiàn)實原來才是最好的素材，可現(xiàn)實素材有時候太絕望。

1. 像一篇篇短篇小說，沒有形容詞，只有動詞和名詞的那種。

2. 虛構(gòu)和非虛構(gòu)鏡頭的無縫銜接，真實的戰(zhàn)爭感。

3. 英語，意大利語，兩種語言的隔閡和互通。

4. 六篇故事的主旨：每個人都認(rèn)為自己是正確的。

5. 故事梗概：一. 西西里。將意大利女人當(dāng)成敵人是錯的。二. 那不勒斯。我們美國人富裕善良。美國人炸死了孩子的爸爸媽媽。 三. 羅馬。你們女孩全變了。純真的姑娘靠自己抵御饑餓，她們是好姑娘。四. 佛羅倫薩?？癖肌醴讫R，雕塑，廢墟。在將死之人口中聽到愛人的死訊。五. 哥特線。五百年的修道院。派發(fā)好時巧克力和罐頭的美國神父，不同教派。每個人都以為自己走在正確的道路上。（自認(rèn)為的）美好心靈必然獲得平靜。六. 北部湖區(qū)。意大利游擊隊+美國士兵+英國空軍，被殺，被推進(jìn)水里。德國人說，建千年政權(quán)先得毀滅一切。1944年冬天。來年春天戰(zhàn)爭結(jié)束。

Roberto Rossellini’s Paisan [Italy 1946] surpasses his Open City [Italy 1945] in breadth of vision and significance. Open City was still a drama; Paisan is an epic, comparable only to [The Battleship] Potemkin [USSR 1925, dir. Sergei Eisenstein], though profoundly different from it.

This new Italian film consists of six real-life episodes which take place during the Italian Campaign. They seem entirely unconnected, except for the fact that their succession corresponds to the advance of the Allied armies. The first episode records the adventures of an American patrol immediately after the landing in Sicily. Led by an Italian peasant girl, the Americans explore a ruined castle—a nocturnal reconnaissance which culminates in a magnificent conversation between the girl and one of the soldiers. But this bilingual idyll does not last long. A few Germans emerg- ing from nowhere shoot the soldier and then kill the girl for having fired at them. When, alarmed by the shooting, the rest of the Americans return, they take it for granted that the girl has lured them into a trap, and her simple-hearted sacrifice passes unnoticed.

The second episode, in Naples, features a street urchin and a Military Policeman—an American Negro who is thoroughly drunk. The boy, set on stealing the Negro’s shoes, guides him to a rubble heap among the ruins, where his prospective victim raves about the hero reception prepared for him in New York and his home town. But the word “home” provokes a sudden shift of moods in him. He says he will not go home; and in a state of despondency he falls asleep, an easy prey for the boy. Shortly later, the Negro captures the thief and makes him return the shoes. The boy is a war orphan living in a cave crammed with ragged women and children. Overwhelmed by pity, the Negro leaves the shoes behind in the cave. Colorful street incidents round out the brilliant thumbnail sketches of these two stray creatures. The scene in the marionette theatre in which the frantic Negro climbs the miniature stage to defend a Moor is a veritable gem sparkling with Quixotic spirit.

The subsequent Roman episode is a somewhat literary love story, with a touch of Maupassant. Six months after the fall of Rome a drunken Ameri- can soldier follows a prostitute to her room. He is no drunkard but a sensi- tive boy appalled by the ever-increasing corruption around him. Instead of simply sleeping with the girl, he tells her about Francesca, the first girl he met on entering Rome on the day of liberation. A flashback, rich in charming details, renders their innocent flirtation and its premature end. Why did you never go back, asks the prostitute. He mutters that he could not find the house. The prostitute, trembling, describes it. He dozes off, vaguely realizing her identity. Next day, she despairingly waits for him, while he himself, on the point of leaving, tears up the slip of paper with her address. He mounts a truck, and the armies move on.

The fourth episode shows the Allies in the outskirts of Florence, pre- paring the last assault on the city, in which the Partisans are already at grips with the Germans and Fascists. An American nurse, eager to join her Florentine lover of prewar days, learns that he is “Lupo,” the legendary Partisan leader. The whole is a pictorial report on what happens to her and an Italian friend as they slip through the front lines into the Partisan-held sector of Florence. They walk past two British officers, portrayed in all their languid fastidiousness; they pass along the corridors of the abandoned Uffizi, catching a glimpse of three German soldiers who slowly advance deep down on the street. When they finally reach a bullet-swept street corner, one of the few Partisans defending this position is fatally wounded. His comrades liquidate two Fascists on the spot. Before dying in the arms of the nurse, the wounded Partisan says that Lupo has been killed that very morning. “God,” says the nurse.

In the fifth episode three American chaplains in search of shelter enter a remote Franciscan monastery in the Apennines and are accommodated there for the night. The naive unworldliness of the monks is characterized in scenes born out of respect and highlighted by an imperceptible smile. No sooner do the monks find out that one of their guests is a Protestant and the other a Jew than they involve the Catholic chaplain in a sort of religious disputation. Thesis stands against thesis: the worried monks insist that those two lost souls must be saved, while their urbane coreligionist believes them able to attain a state of grace outside the Church. This duel in pious dialectics is the more exquisite since battles are raging in the neighborhood. The end comes as a surprise. The zealous monks impose a fast on themselves for the sake of the Jew and the Protestant, and the Catholic chaplain praises their humility, instead of reaffirming his stand on tolerance. It is a strange conclusion, somewhat reminiscent of the spiritual note in Silone’s novels.1

The last episode is a terrible nightmare unfolding in the marshes of the Po Valley, where flat land and sky fuse into a monotonous universe. A small group of Italian Partisans, British flyers, and American O.S.S. agents engage in a hopeless combat action behind the enemy lines. You do not see the Germans at first; you see only the corpse of a Partisan floating across the water. The reeds are filled with threats; unknown dangers lurk around the lonely house which in its isolation deepens the impression of monotony. Then, after an eternity of unbearable suspense, the massacre takes its course. The people in the house are killed indiscriminately, except for a little child who, outside the house, screams and screams, deserted by the dead on the ground. The Partisans, bound hand and foot, are thrown into the water. The horrified English and American prisoners see them, one by one, disappear, unable to stop the clockwork process. Another witness is left: the Partisan leader hanging behind the prisoners.

“This happened in the winter of 1944,” a commentator says at the very end. “A few weeks later, spring came to Italy and the war in Europe was declared over.”

All these episodes relate the experiences of ordinary people in a world which tends to thwart their noblest efforts. The dead Sicilian girl is cal- lously slandered by those who should have honored her; Francesca, the fresh Roman girl, turns prostitute, and her decent lover sinks into emo- tional inertia. It is the war which dooms them. Yet it is not always the war: in the case of the Negro, his fate results from circumstances entirely unconnected with events in Italy.

What endears these people to us is their inborn dignity. They have dignity in the same way that they breathe or eat. Throughout the film, humanity appears as a quality of man’s nature, as something that exists in him independently of his ideals and creeds. Rossellini’s Partisans never refer to their political convictions; rather, they fight and die in a matter-of- fact way, because they are as they are. And the Negro is simply a humane creature, filled with compassion, love of music, and Quixotic reveries.

This emphasis on the reality of good nature is coupled with a marked indifference to ideas. Of course, the Nazis appear as hateful, but it seems they are hated only for their acts of savagery and their vulgar conduct. All judgments are concerned with human dignity, and what goes beyond it is completely omitted. There is in the whole film not a single verbal statement against Fascist rule, nor any message in favor of democracy, let alone a social revolution. And the surface impression, that Paisan advo- cates pacifism, must be dismissed also, for it is scarcely compatible with the experience of the Catholic chaplain, to whom the war has been a great lesson in tolerance. This deliberate disregard of all “causes,” including that of humanity, can be explained only by a profound skepticism about their effects. Even the most praiseworthy cause, Paisan implies, is bound to entail fanaticism, corruption, and misery, thus interfering with the free flow of a good and meaningful life. Significantly, the Sicilian peasants are suspicious of American liberators and German invaders alike; and the Roman episode bears out their suspicions by highlighting the demoraliza- tion wrought upon the liberated in less than six months.

The attitude behind Paisan is in keeping with the film’s episodic struc- ture. In stringing together six separate episodes, Rossellini manifests his belief in the independence of human dignity from any overarching idea. If humanity materialized only under the guidance of an idea, then a single, well-composed story might suggest itself to express the latter’s significance (viz. Potemkin). But humanity is here part and parcel of reality and there- fore must be traced in various places. The six isolated episodes indicate that streaks of it are found everywhere.

Since Paisan confines itself to real-life experiences, its documentary style is most adequate. The style, cultivated by D.W. Griffith, Flaherty, and the Russian film directors, is genuinely cinematic, for it grows out of the urge, inherent in the camera, to explore the world of facts. Like Eisenstein or Flaherty, Rossellini goes the limit in capturing reality. He shoots on location and prefers laymen to professional actors. And instead of working from an elaborate script, with each detail thought out in advance, he lets himself be inspired by the unforeseeable situations that arise in the process of filming.

These techniques become virtues because of Rossellini’s infatuation with reality and his gift for translating its every manifestation into cin- ematic terms. He masters horror scenes no less expertly than moments of tenderness, and the confused street crowd is as near to him as is the abandoned individual in it. His camera angles and twists of action owe their existence to sparks of intuition ignited by the closest touch with the given material. And directed by him, most people play themselves without seeming to play at all. To be sure, Paisan has its weak spots: parts of the Sicilian episode are shot in slapdash fashion; the Roman love story is too much of a story; the nurse and her companion in the Florentine episode are strangely flat; and the Catholic chaplain is not entirely true to type. But these occasional lapses amount to little within a film which sets a new pattern in documentary treatment. Its wonderful freshness results from Rossellini’s unflinching directness in formulating his particular notion of humanity. He knows what he wants to say and says it as simply as possible.

Are examples needed? Far from capitalizing, after the manner of The Last Chance [USA 1945, dir. Leopold Lindtberg], on bilingual dialogue to sell the idea of international solidarity, Paisan presents the mingling of lan- guages in wartime Italy without any purpose. In the opening episode, the conversation between the Sicilian girl and the American soldier in charge of her is a linguistic dabbling which, born out of the latter’s boredom and loneliness, does not lead up to anything. Yet precisely by recording their pointless attempts at mutual understanding with infinite care, Rossellini manages to move and fascinate us. For in the process these two people, left speechless by their mother tongues, increasingly reveal what as a rule is buried under conventional phrases.

Each episode abounds in examples. When the drunken G.I. tells the Roman prostitute about his yearning for Francesca, he is seen lying on the couch, with his legs apart in the foreground—a shot which renders his physical disgust and moral disillusionment to perfection. Though long shots are ordinarily less communicative than close shots, Rossellini draws heavily on them in the last episode to picture the marshes. He does so on purpose, for these shots not only convey the impression of desolate monotony, but, through their very flatness, they make the ensuing mas- sacre seem more dreadful. A model of artistic intelligence are the street scenes in the Neapolitan episode. First it is as if these loosely connected shots of performing jugglers, ragged natives, blackmarketing children, and idling G.I.’s were inserted only in the interest of local color. Shortly, however, it becomes evident that they also serve to characterize the Negro. As he reemerges from the marionette theatre, his companion, the wily boy who does not want to lose him, begins to play a harmonica; and, enticed by these heavenly sounds, the Negro follows the little Pied Piper through streets teeming with the crowds and diversions that have already been impressed upon us. So we are all the more struck by the impact of the trickling harmonica music on the Negro.

This last example well illustrates the way Rossellini organizes his mate- rial. There is a veritable gulf between his editing style and the “montage” methods used in Potemkin and other early Soviet films. For Rossellini deliberately turns his back on ideas, while the Russian film directors aim exclusively at driving home a message. Paisan deals with the human assets of ordinary people; Eisenstein’s Potemkin shows ordinary people wedded to the cause of revolution. All editing devices in the Eisenstein film are calculated not only to render a historic uprising, but to render it in the light of Marxist doctrine. In Potemkin, the priest’s face, besides being his face, stands for Tsarist oppression, and the sailors are made to appear as the vanguard of the proletariat. Nothing of that kind occurs in the Italian film. On the contrary, Rossellini so composes his narrative that we never feel challenged to seek symbolic meanings in it. Such instances of oppres- sion or humanity as Paisan offers are strictly individual facts which do not admit of generalization. Rossellini patiently observes where Eisen- stein ardently constructs. This accounts for the thrill of a few shots which represent border cases. I am thinking in particular of the documentary shot of the three German soldiers in the Florentine episode. Reminiscent, perhaps deliberately so, of similar shots in official Nazi documentaries, it is inserted in such a manner that it affects us as a true revelation of German militarism. The allusiveness of this shot is sufficiently strong to drive us beyond the bounds of immediate reality, and yet too unobtrusive to make us lose contact with it.

Paisan is all the more amazing as it defies the traditional patterns of film making in Italy. The Italian prewar screen was crowded with historical extravaganzas and beautifully photographed dramas that displayed inflated passions before decorative settings—a long progression of glossy products, led by d’Annunzio’s world-famous Cabiria, of 1914. Taking advantage of their audience’s love for theatrics, these films reflected both the glitter and the hollowness of the regime under which they flourished. . . . It is a far cry from d’Annunzio to Rossellini, from the spectacular to the real. The sudden emergence of such a film as Paisan indicates that many Italians actually loathe the grand-style manner of the past and all that it implied in allegiances and sham beliefs. They have come to realize the futility of Mussolini’s conquests and they seem now determined to do without any messages and missions—at least for the moment.

And this moment is a precarious one for the Italians. Fascist rule has ended, the new government is weak, and the country resounds with inter- nal strife. During this interregnum the Italians might feel completely lost, were it not for a compact cultural heritage which protects them from dis- integration. Theirs is an articulate sense of art and a tested way of putting up with the tragedies common to mortals. And under the undiminishing spell of custom they knowingly enjoy the rites of love making and the gratifications of family life. No doubt, the Church has played its part in shaping and civilizing these people throughout the ages. That they are aware of it perhaps accounts for the surprise ending of the Monastery episode in Paisan—that scene in which the American chaplain bows to the religious ardor of the Italian monks, thus disavowing what he has said about the inclusiveness of true tolerance shortly before. His deliber- ate inconsistency can be considered a tribute to Italian Catholicism and its humanizing effects.

Italian everyday life, then, is rich in meaningful outlets for all imagin- able needs and desires. So the Italians do not sink into a vacuum when they refuse, as they are now doing, to let themselves be possessed with ideas. Even without ideas they still have much to rely upon. And since their kind of existence, mellow and sweet as it is, has long since become second nature to them—something that seems to them as natural as the blue sky or the air they breathe—they may well believe that their repudiation of ideas relieves their lives of excess baggage. What remains, in their opinion, is humanity, pure and simple. And in their case, as Paisan demonstrates, humanity assumes all the traits of self-sufficient reality.

This is a mirage, though, which may appear as more than a mirage only at a very particular moment, such as the Italians are now going through. Paisan is delusive in that it virtually makes the triumph of humanity dependent on a world released from the strain of ideas, or “causes.” We cannot feel this way. As matters stand, we know humanity would be irre- trievably bogged down if it were unsustained by the ideas mankind breeds in desperate attempts to improve its lot. Whatever their consequences, they hold out a promise to us. Rossellini’s film dismisses the audience without any such promise. But this does not invalidate its peculiar greatness. And precisely in these postwar years with their tangle of oblique slogans and propaganda artifices, Paisan comes to us as a revelation of the steady flow of humanity beneath the turmoil of sheer ideology. So, if Paisan does not kindle hopes, yet it reassures us of the omnipresence of their sources.

原文出處：Siegfried Kracauer's American Writings Essays on Film and Popular Culture

Paisan (1948) P156

影片主要按照時間順序，用6個小故事，講解了二戰(zhàn)期間，意大利被解放的進(jìn)程。

第一個故事：西西里島

1943 年7月：英美軍隊登陸西西里島，開始征服該島。一個美國小分隊到達(dá)了一座教堂。教堂里有數(shù)十名逃難的意大利居民；其中，一個名叫卡梅拉的女孩主動提出給他們帶隊，避開雷區(qū)，到達(dá)河岸。行動中，他們發(fā)現(xiàn)了一座無人看守的城堡。

為了安全起見，小分隊決定留下女孩，并派士兵喬陪伴女孩，其他人出發(fā)探路。喬和女孩言語不通。為了減輕女孩的不安，喬拿出自己家里人的照片，打著打火機(jī)，想讓女孩看清楚，然而，打火機(jī)的亮光引起了德國人的注意，喬被打死了；德國士兵隨后過來，發(fā)現(xiàn)了女孩卡梅拉。女孩拿起喬的步槍開始向德國人射擊；德國人殺了她并將尸體扔下懸崖。當(dāng)美國士兵返回時，他們發(fā)現(xiàn)了喬的尸體，但誤以為是女孩卡梅拉干的。

第二個故事：那不勒斯

街頭男孩遇到醉酒的美國黑人憲兵，乘著黑人士兵睡著了，男孩趁機(jī)偷了他的鞋子。

幾天后，黑人士兵在巡邏時，抓到了一個偷東西的小男孩。經(jīng)過盤查，黑人士兵發(fā)現(xiàn)這個小男孩就是前幾偷走自己鞋子的那個男孩。黑人士兵要求男孩帶他回家，歸還自己被偷走的鞋子。

倆人開車來到男孩的居住地，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)是一個廢棄的凝灰?guī)r采石場，里面住著一群無家可歸的人。黑人士兵被這里的貧困生活環(huán)境所震驚，得知小男孩的父母都在戰(zhàn)爭中被炸死了。于是，不再要男孩歸還鞋子，獨自開車離開了。

第三個故事：羅馬

1944 年 6 月，盟軍進(jìn)入羅馬。受到市民熱烈歡迎。

六個月后，在羅馬街頭，一名妓女遇到了一個叫弗雷德的醉酒美國士兵，并將他帶到自己的房間。美國士兵不愿意跟這個妓女上床，而是給她講了盟軍抵達(dá)羅馬的那天，自己與意大利女孩弗朗西斯卡的會面的故事，且訴說了自己對女孩的相思之情。

妓女聽完故事，意識到她就是那個女孩弗朗西斯卡，但現(xiàn)在為生活所迫，自己已經(jīng)當(dāng)了妓女。妓女給美國士兵留下了自己的地址，第二天在自家門口等待美國士兵的歸來。但美國士兵弗雷德沒有出現(xiàn)。他第二天酒醒后，跟士兵們開玩笑的講了頭天晚上妓女給自己留紙條的故事，然后把紙條扔進(jìn)了風(fēng)中。。

第四個故事： 佛羅倫薩

盟軍解放了亞諾河以南的佛羅倫薩部分。意大利游擊隊員在進(jìn)行艱苦的巷戰(zhàn)；年輕英國護(hù)士哈麗特在拼命打聽她的戀人——游擊隊領(lǐng)袖盧波——的消息。

但傳來的消息很不樂觀——有人說盧波受傷了。為了尋找愛人，哈麗特和朋友馬西莫結(jié)伴，進(jìn)入了被圍困的佛羅倫薩城區(qū)。哈麗特的冒險以最痛苦的方式結(jié)束，她從一個瀕臨死亡的游擊隊員口中得知盧波已經(jīng)犧牲了。

第五個故事：教堂信仰【哥特防線（Emilian Apennines）】

英美的推進(jìn)越不過哥特路線。在艾米利亞亞平寧山脈的一個小修道院里，一群方濟(jì)會修士過著世外桃源的生活。這個修道院并沒有受到戰(zhàn)火的摧殘。一天，來了三位美國隨軍牧師。修士們很高興接待同行。并準(zhǔn)備好好招待這三個人。

但在交往中，他們發(fā)現(xiàn)：三個美國人中，只有一個是天主教牧師，另外兩人，一個是新教徒，一個是猶太教教徒。

教師們從來么有遇到過這種情況。天主教堂里居然來了兩個異教徒！最后，他們打算教化這兩個異教徒。但被美國隨軍的天主教牧師阻止。

第六個故事: 波河三角洲（托萊港 Porto Tolle）

1944 年冬天：越過哥特線，沿著波河三角洲，游擊隊與美國人和英國人一起戰(zhàn)斗。

在沼澤地的艱苦戰(zhàn)斗中，納粹-法西斯分子對游擊隊和當(dāng)?shù)氐臒o辜平民進(jìn)行了暴力統(tǒng)治。游擊隊員和英國戰(zhàn)俘被德國人抓捕。最后全部被殺死。

總結(jié)：

總體來說，這部影片勝在時間點上。因為拍攝于1946年，二戰(zhàn)剛剛過去一年。里面反映了幾個問題：

1、美國人對意大利是解放者。

2、德國人給意大利人帶來了戰(zhàn)爭傷害。

3、意大利雖然是軸心國成員，但也有游擊隊員，意大利人民也有反對德國人的。

據(jù)說，這部影片在美國大獲成功。這是可以想見的。如果朝鮮拍攝一部中國志愿軍解放朝鮮的電影，估計在中國也會大獲成功的。

據(jù)說，這部電影在意大利播出一波三折。這也是可以理解的。整個影片里，沒有意大利政府的影子，更沒有意大利士兵的影子，只有意大利平民游擊隊的犧牲和付出。因為意大利作為軸心國成員，導(dǎo)演實在沒法拍出意大利政府和士兵的反戰(zhàn)的情況。戰(zhàn)后的意大利政府顯然不希望看到這樣的影片。

4、影片里，顯示意大利老百姓是戰(zhàn)爭的受害者。比如妓女、平民窟、孤兒。但請記住，因為意大利是軸心國之一。二戰(zhàn)初期，意大利的老百姓可不是這樣子的。跟德國人搞的火熱，到處出擊，老百姓不要多高興。另外，妓女也不是戰(zhàn)爭帶來的。戰(zhàn)前意大利就沒有妓女了嗎？德國人在意大利，估計也是一堆妓女圍著轉(zhuǎn)的哈。

5、這電影，沒有對意大利發(fā)動戰(zhàn)爭的反思，只是單純的反映了戰(zhàn)爭對老百姓帶來的苦難。但也只是意大利老百姓的苦難，意大利開戰(zhàn)初期，對其他國家的老百姓帶來的苦難呢？導(dǎo)演只字未提。當(dāng)然，這是可以理解的。畢竟這是一部電影，要有取舍。不可能在有限的時間里，面面俱到。

但總感覺有點缺憾。這電影，感謝了盟軍的解放，指責(zé)了德國人的殘忍，以及戰(zhàn)爭帶給意大利老百姓的苦難。但沒有反思意大利政府在二戰(zhàn)中的所作所為。

這再次讓我想起了日本的很多二戰(zhàn)電影，大量反映被美軍轟炸下的日本老百姓的苦難，但對日本政府的責(zé)任，輕描淡寫。有人說，日本是“反戰(zhàn)敗”而不是“反戰(zhàn)”，多少有些道理。

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意大利新現(xiàn)實主義的興起，讓世界人民開始把目光關(guān)注于電影的紀(jì)實本性。

羅西里尼把他對于戰(zhàn)后的意大利現(xiàn)實，用最真實的筆觸表達(dá)了出來。

影片由6個故事組成，羅西里尼通過這部影片去關(guān)注于法西斯統(tǒng)治下的各色人群的艱苦生活與抗?fàn)帤v史。

陰暗的色調(diào)，灰蒙蒙的天空，家徒四壁的環(huán)境，戰(zhàn)火燃燒的斷壁殘垣，一種比真實還要真實，比殘酷還要殘酷的現(xiàn)實撲面而來。

羅西里尼沒有刻意地去講述什么，只是在記錄著，把他的所見所聞記錄下來，并以一種最真誠最真實的態(tài)度表達(dá)出來。

他留給我們無盡的思考，戰(zhàn)爭給人們帶來了怎樣的真實