战火1946

新现实主义和纪录片，新闻报道的日常生活有什么区别？作为一个业余影迷，个人的感受和理解。

纪录片或我们的日常生活其实是没有焦点的，正如此刻在地铁上的我放眼望去看到的就是现实，而新现实主义电影则在这个现实背景下把镜头对准其中具有时代或主题特色的人物和事件，让观众的注意力跟随镜头的走向，跟随故事主角的走向来一步步了解现实。所以说新现实主义电影并非单纯的对现实的重放。而是对大量现实的观察理解以后，抽离出其中的典型人物和事例并对其进行文学戏剧化处理，比如对立角色或对立立场的建立，剧情的设计性也会显而易见。同时根据戏剧性的现实再创作，让观众的观影体验拥有强烈的现实感和参与度，由于故事和人物脱胎于现实，并且基本运用实景和非职业演员，从而使得观众不自觉间就带入自己日常生活的感受，随着剧情的发展做出相应的现实中可能出现的情绪波动，以此达到让观众更好的感受生活，思考生活的目的。

在这个理解下去看罗西里尼的战争三部曲，会发现他的伟大之处。

罗马不设防的城市拍摄于1945年，战火拍摄于1946，德意志零年拍摄于1948年。在二战刚结束的时间里，罗西里尼并没有鼓吹战争胜利的荣耀和伟大，而是反思战争不同阶段对所有处于战争下的人民造成了怎样无法挽回的伤害。在我看来这是得冒风险的，政府向来可不喜欢宣扬人民的悲惨。

其次，三部电影之间的连续性，思考观察的角度的丰富性也极大的提升了电影的质量。罗马不设防的城市讲述的是1944年德国占领罗马后，罗马各阶层职业的人民对抗德国侵略者的事迹，这是还处于被侵略统治时的意大利。战火通过六个几乎没有联系的短片故事串联出在德国节节败退的背景下，意大利不同地区不同阶层人民的困苦。而德意志零年则是立足于战败后的德国，在柏林废墟上刻画了一个战败国孩子怎样一步步经历无奈绝望到最后弑父自杀的故事。战争对人性的摧残一步步加深，战争的荒诞在故事的凸显下更显得可笑又让人无助。

罗马不设防的城市剧情跌宕起伏，对现实的把握和对故事走向的控制精确且细腻。主角看似是英勇就义共产党人和违背了教义却信守正义的神父，可在我看来那群父母被杀害，抱有对侵略者的无尽仇恨却仍不失孩童的质朴善良的孩子们才是影片真正的主角，因为他们代表着终将到来的善良和正义，因为他们是未来。只是如此的剧情设计过于刻意化，不是不好只是没有最好。所以有了更好的两部。

战火由六个基本不相关的短片组成，通过六个看似不相关的短片让我们看到了尽管战争即将结束，战斗节节胜利可战争的后遗症却永远的留在了经历战火的人民身上。每个短片之间的转折都很迅速，当我还在感动于语言不通的美国大兵和意大利女孩之间的友情和思乡之情时，他们就死于德国军人枪下，然后第二个故事开始了。前一秒在意大利当警察的美国黑人还在醉酒唱歌，下一秒他就被意大利贫民窟的破财凄惨惊慌到夺路而逃。镜头由此一转，罗马被解放了。可是解放后的罗马人生活也并没有很好。曾经热情可爱的意大利女孩也成了和大多数人一样的站街小姐，而对她恋恋不忘的美国大兵把他魂牵梦绕的姑娘当作妓女的地址随手扔了。之后下一个故事开始了，一个想去找当了游击队队长的美国护士和想去找家人的意大利男人经历战火的过程，而导演没有告诉我们结果只是让一个掩护他们的游击队员死在护士面前。第五个故事就在节节胜利的盟军脚步下开始了，三个借宿修道院的美国大兵和院士之间的矛盾，因为有一个人是犹太教一个不信教，而这个短片在军队神父对信仰自由支持的演讲下结束。最后一个故事发生于德国投降的前几个月，而一群游击队员和盟军飞行员终究没能等来最后的几个月，陪同援助他们的村民一起被残忍屠杀。

相对于罗马不设防的城市，战火每个短片之间甚至没有关联，戏剧性也因此减弱但同时由于导演对于每个结尾戛然而止的把握十分精确，让人在感受到战火对人性摧残以后并没有给观众过多感伤的时间，这正暗符现实的仓促。所以这部电影的现实性更浓烈，但也由于戏剧性的减弱，故事间的低逻辑关联性所以观看难度不低。

而最后一部德意志零年简直有些令人绝望。虽说感受到了绝望我们才会珍惜美好，才能克服绝望。只是这样现实的绝望和压抑还是有些难受的。

战后的柏林，一个12岁男孩撑起一个家庭的重担。可就算如此，社会还不给他撑起重担的权利，懦弱的大哥害怕曾当过兵的经历被处罚整日躲在家里，患有重病的父亲每天卧床不起，而姐姐则无奈每天晚上出去出卖身体补贴家用。在如此情景下，小男孩被曾经的老师诱骗去卖希特勒的演讲，而他反而从中获得了生存的动力和意义，着实有些讽刺。而最后老师不经意的诱导和指示，把男孩推向了弑父的深渊，而当他弑父之后却受到了老师的指责。家庭，社会，信仰所有都崩塌了，而他只是一个想踢球，跳格子的12岁男孩，他又如何去承受这一切崩塌后的结果。结尾，在他最后一次玩了滑滑梯后，捂脸流泪看着自己曾经生活的地方，自己弑父的地方，没有一丝犹豫跳楼自杀了。

开头是男孩挖坟墓期望获得工作机会养活家人，结尾是男孩跳楼自杀结束生命。战争到底对他，对我们，对人类做了些什么呀。

现实原来才是最好的素材，可现实素材有时候太绝望。

意大利新现实主义的兴起，让世界人民开始把目光关注于电影的纪实本性。

罗西里尼把他对于战后的意大利现实，用最真实的笔触表达了出来。

影片由6个故事组成，罗西里尼通过这部影片去关注于法西斯统治下的各色人群的艰苦生活与抗争历史。

阴暗的色调，灰蒙蒙的天空，家徒四壁的环境，战火燃烧的断壁残垣，一种比真实还要真实，比残酷还要残酷的现实扑面而来。

罗西里尼没有刻意地去讲述什么，只是在记录着，把他的所见所闻记录下来，并以一种最真诚最真实的态度表达出来。

他留给我们无尽的思考，战争给人们带来了怎样的真实

第20届#法罗岛电影节#第1个放映日为大家带来《战火》，下面请看前线涉足战争之地的黎民百姓的评价了！

果树：

结构简单粗暴，好在内核完整。各个人物都带着点抽象的概况感，但全片成功地呈现出人道光芒。

保嵩：

用故事集理念来拍战争片很新颖，第一部罗西里尼。最爱第一个故事，可能因为他们误会那个意大利女孩吧，看完第三个故事还对第一个故事难过。

Morning：

盟军从西西里岛向上移动到意大利北部过程里发生的几个小故事，战争背景有效的统领了他们，他们的关系的改变离不开这个背景，每个故事都是做普通人物关系的范本，不强人设，不刻板印象，不操控故事，不渲染情绪，但它们的写实和背后的现实意义是非常重大的，我觉得这也是对家国的另一种理解，我怀抱着这片土地，我的眼睛看到了这么多容易湮灭的微不足道的事物。

Not Here：

战争中的人情世故，每一个故事的视角都不一样，所以感觉也不太好比较。个人最喜欢第四个故事，穿越战场时最无言也最波涛汹涌。

子夜无人：

非常生动的战时大后方写照，人物群像塑造得极其成功，在“写实”与“戏剧化”之间维持了恰到好处的分寸，情感是饱满的、浓烈的但绝非煽动的，从宏大叙事的陷阱中脱身做到视角下移，枪火与厮杀之外永远沸腾的是真实的人性。

松野空松：

以美意双方为敌开始，到美意合作对付德军结束，朋友的母题在逐渐升华，最喜欢中间三个直接的战争无关的部分，黑人大兵被偷东西，美国大兵与妓女的邂逅，穿越战区寻找爱人/家人。

SONGMJ23：

除了组成故事本身的那些“有意建构的镜头”，罗西里尼穿插其中的历史真实场面可能同样是作为一种”有意“的设计而存在，旨在凸显现实的多面性和人性之复杂。这种对影像与现实间是否存在某种“相互诞生”关系的深刻探讨与实验，正是新现实主义运动能够不断推出各种风格迥异的现实诗篇的一大源泉。

FranzCamus：

六则故事，组成一幅意大利二战浮世绘。 六则故事，描绘出二战之间意大利普通民众水深火热的生活。 六则故事，没有从正面战场来描述残酷的战斗。只是从不同方面来表达出罗西里尼对于整个社会的一种挽歌。有流离失所的百姓，有为生活所迫而站街的女性，有崇高理想反对法西斯的游击队员，也有偏安一隅对上帝依旧憧憬的僧侣。众人皆是残酷战争下的牺牲品。 给我一种在看白先勇的小说《台北人》的即视感。意大利新现实主义电影代表作。

给艾德林的诗：

六则故事一面情境，彼时现实中的姿态纪实，情感落实也不乏戏剧性和起承转合与遗憾，罗西里尼这部比起维斯康蒂的《大地在波动》，似乎更能唤起一个经验如何能更自然地适用新现实主义语法的问题（笑）。

#FIFF20#DAY1的场刊将在稍后释出，请大家拭目以待了！

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.

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

Paisan (1948) P156

这个不太知道怎么评分，妓女和教堂那两段挺有意思的。这电影属于战争全景？？现在这部电影不能写短评了？？？不清楚为什么，感觉也没有政治不正确的地方啊？？？写那么多就是为了凑字数发长评。好害怕标记的电影被删，特别是那些不怎么有印象的电影，豆瓣就属于唯一的凭据了，如果被删了，可能就永远记不起这一部电影了，删除，很可怕。

《战火》作为1946年的影片，依然受到当今众多导演的推崇。作为罗西里尼的现实主义三部曲第二部，影片依旧延续了《罗马，不设防的城市》里实景，无剧本，非职业演员，自然光等等。镜头里依旧充斥着残破的房屋街道和野蛮的气息。影片由六个故事组成，以第二次世界大战末期，在意大利登陆的美军攻破德军防线为背景，在战争的大环境下通过六个以小见大的故事展现战争的残酷，人性的美好和黑暗。

1.一只美军团队在一个意大利当地女孩的带路下找到攻打德军的地点。随后一名美军士兵留下来陪伴女孩等待团队凯旋。两人在语言不通的情况下通过手势和单个词汇进行交流，并产生了某些情愫。但美国士兵因为点烟被德军发现开枪打死。女孩拿起了死去士兵的枪奋勇的打死了一个德国士兵，但最终被其他德军杀死。

2.一群意大利底层的小孩试图哄抢一个喝醉的美国黑人士兵身上的衣服和财物。其中一个男孩“解救”了士兵，男孩带着士兵去看皮影戏。完后两人坐在街道废墟上，黑人士兵憧憬着回国后如英雄般的待遇，随后昏睡过去，男孩偷走了他的鞋。第二天士兵找到了男孩，愤怒的指责男孩，让男孩把鞋还给他。男孩带着士兵去自己家拿鞋，士兵得知男孩父母在战争中死去，看着男孩居住的残破的房屋和穷困的居民，转身走掉了。

3.一个妓女在街头勾搭了一个醉酒的美国士兵。两人躺在床上时，士兵讲了一个故事：半年前他随军队开着坦克进入罗马，受到热烈欢迎。其中一个美丽的女人把他迎进自己家给他水喝和洗脸。两人在短暂的相处中互生情愫，但士兵不得不上前线所以分开了。现在士兵回到了罗马，但没有找到那个女孩，所以心情低落借酒浇愁。待士兵睡着后，妓女留下了一个地址给房东并让房东次日交给士兵。次日妓女换了一身正常的装束在约定的地点等待，但士兵没有出现。（想起了《西西里的美丽传说》，良家妇女在战争中为了生存出卖肉体）

4.战地医院的女护士为了寻找身处战区的反抗组织首领“狼”，和寻找自己家人的男人一路穿过危险的战区。到达战区后从受伤的反抗组织成员口中得知了“狼”牺牲的消息。

5.一个美国神父和两个美国军人借宿在意大利天主教教堂里。食物匮乏的天主教神父们热情款待三位美国来宾。同样美国人也给神父们带来了罐头食品。其中一位天主教神父在祷告时发现两个美国军人一个是犹太教，一个是新教徒。于是天主教神父试图让犹太教徒和新教徒信仰天主教，但遭到了拒绝。神父们没有再追究。在晚餐时，美国神父对意大利天主教神父们的宽容表达了感激。

6.意大利乡村河流上漂浮着大量死去的英国盟军。美军不断的把尸体打捞上岸并埋葬。在食物匮乏的乡村，美军决定在晚上用飞机给士兵空投食物。但在发射信号弹时被德军发现。第二天激烈的交战后美军被德军俘虏，一个个被绑着推进了河中。

六个互不关联的故事，爱情，宗教，仇恨，屠杀，穷苦，战争中的众生相。每个故事毫不拖泥带水，点到为止，让人回味琢磨，充满延伸性。