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."
可以和《杰伊比姆》较量一番，这个片小漏洞挺多，但题材可，故事线丰富，反转可。印度电影真的越来越好了呢。而且我真的一点都不讨厌电影里有大量印度歌曲和舞蹈（虽然本片没有舞蹈），非常好听和合适啊！
他们离过婚，出过轨，
电影拍摄手法不行，节奏很怪，配乐也是乱七八糟的，莫名其妙地悬疑，莫名其妙地煽情MV，感觉导演好像没怎么拍过电影。
巧妙地把各种矛盾融合到了一起，就是BGM有点吵
太喜欢了，私心给个五星，轻松愉悦的女性群像戏，但又完全不狗血不做作不尴尬，还是女导演会拍女性啊，三个女性都太有魅力了，而且完全不雌竞，男性怕是很难get这类电影吧，而且中年人之间那种直接甚至目的性明确套路满满的感情线不比小年轻的矫情造作无病呻吟好磕多了，中年人的感情也很可爱嘛，最近院线看的最喜欢的一部了，推荐给小情侣，看完绝对不会吵架哈哈哈哈
像印度菜一样，重口味调料放太多，吃不出到底是什么东西了已经。只贩卖主题和情绪的电影反正我嗨不起来。
李小姐的那一夜不过是断了高跟的名牌鞋，格洛瑞亚的那一夜只能是需要收款的画作，蓓蓓的那一夜或许是鲫鱼汤多加的调料。她们围坐在一起，听老乌讲起他的那一夜，原来爱情可以是男人一生的海啸，倾覆一座城的波涛。已经活到了不会为一张素描而心动的年纪，爱情终究属于神话，不如护手霜和点心值得回味。
印度这几年的社会题材电影有点韩国电影的赶脚啊。
看到一半还以为就是个继续的俗套故事，后半段开始反转。所有民众能看到的，都是各种博弈下故意引导的，底层会有流动，但头部玩家几乎不转移不涌入，只是限定人群的接力赛而已。想明白这个，很多事情自然就解释通了，金字塔的底层贡献劳动力和支持率，金字塔中间负责执行，塔尖的教皇们则坐享其成，求同存异。
终于不用再看#爱而不得#私定终身#抓小三#守活寡#生是你的人死是你的鬼#这种老掉牙的破烂爱情片了，爱情的理想形态难道不是这种开放式的多人家庭吗？聚是一团火，散是满天星，肉体开不开放咱另说，先把精神打开，酒杯碰起来，心里话唠起来！
哎呀这电影我吃不消啊！
前半部分太缓慢，一度想放弃了都，后面节奏快多了。
全天下男人都会犯的错男女换话，各生欢喜后跳一人的探戈也不稀罕你的画；
印度这几年的社会题材电影有点韩国电影的赶脚啊。
ps看过的第一部没有传统歌舞的印度电影
要表达的东西太多了，后面就是为了反转而反转
评论区跪族又定体问了哈哈。后一个小时确实出乎意料，从一开始的谋杀案，以为讲女性的安全，到煽动革命以为是颜革，媒体舆论，程序正义，学阀延毕逼死学生，到最后的政治惊悚。主题一变再变，感觉塞进了太多东西，导致每个都讲不好。最后十几分钟还要反转又反转，弄了一出复仇记，一出良心觉醒，特没意思。
最油膩的其實是配樂，但不妨礙在國產電影維度交出了一份好的成績。對於習慣逃避真實城市風情和缺乏中產描繪的中國商業電影，那份在地性和不做作都挺珍貴，最喜歡的是一些對白的subtext寫法以及結尾周野芒的solo演出，情緒高潮竟是由副線周野芒一人完成，且並不失效，這其實滿破格。兩岸三地女性新導演們在文本角度碾壓男導演們幾乎已是客觀事實。
小女孩不爱带嘤，义呆梨家族企业在义务，老乌是为国争光彩旗飘飘，乳化什么乳化啊。。。
一个中年人还相信爱情，这本身就挺神话的。里面的中年人其实也不太谈爱，更多是琢磨怎么过日子，实在不行就你就跟我住一起吧，都是这种表述。影片最有趣的地方是，以一种女性视角，处理了一个我们熟悉的男性中年危机的套路，所以，剧情很快也从中年男性话题跳走了。而三个女性角色，也是各有各的魅力。影片呈现出一种轻松与俏皮，对于情感，也没那么功利，而是暧昧与含混的，而这本身，却让这群本来不会有爱情的中年人之间，产生了丝丝浪漫。最终，这还是部基于爱情的，都市轻喜剧，很都市，也很轻喜剧。
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