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."
问题主要集中在中后段两人形成全新却又陈旧的关系后，情感出现断裂不再流动自如；内核表达/叙事动机的过于暴露削弱了表层抓马应有的反作用力（前半段真好看…
尤其这次以较以往更精简更少的奇情编排，以两个母亲的轨迹和遭遇，串联起了西班牙内战的过往，引入了关于女性、血缘和人类传承的思考，举重若轻地完成了个人和民族的对撞，家族过往与国家历史的对照。
今日「热搜」新闻：寻子14年后，电影《亲爱的》原型孙海洋失散多年的儿子被找到，孙海洋与儿子DNA比对成功——儿子发声：不会回到亲生父母身边——有趣的是，阿莫多瓦所提出的《平行母亲》概念或许可以被「当下」真实的生活推翻抑或证实。本片中，只想「交欢」却不想为其后果承担责任的「父亲」由理性驱动和支配——最终决定「特」权自然落在拥有选择「生与不生/回与不回」的母亲/儿子身上，但「感性至上」带来的副作用就是让人的感知力严重滞后——事实上，身处高位的法医一眼就看出了问题，而扮演「下位者」角色的传统女性却还要借助「电子」眼的力量才能看清被科学技术遮蔽、删改和复原的真相——这位「不是生物学意义上的母亲」恰恰是「社会」伦理学意义上的母亲。遗憾的是，导演采用了「新殖民主义」手段来论证「殖民主义」统治的必然失败。
直面历史，才能望向未来。婴儿抱错这种故事在阿莫多瓦这里都算不上奇情，掘开被掩埋、被遗忘的过去所产生的震撼也只是完全意料之中的。在两部分都不够出彩的状况下，又刻意地缝合，只能说就不难看吧。依然很爱片头片尾的字幕设计。
小男孩在墙上砸出了一个方方正正的窟窿？？？
表演和剪辑都很好，但整体上故事层面的两条线索各说各的很奇怪。70
还行。2022-7-23 20:29:33
伊桑霍克太适合演这样的变态了，故事很精彩，可惜反派人物刻画不够。对于我来说是一部优秀的惊悚电影
我愿称阿莫多瓦为人类学大师。几十年来一直在探讨人与人的关系的更多可能性，和各种群体间复杂的爱。能够让你喜欢的是因为他对人类的爱，他是真的喜欢人各式各样的人。具体到这一部个人认为没有之前的好看，但还是非常成功的创想和厚度。潘潘的威尼斯影后给的高级。
镜头语言和配乐很有阿莫多瓦一贯的风格，在叙事过程中传递女性主义和人文主义的元素也让电影探讨的维度有所上升。但电影的两部分剧情有些割裂，强行合在一起并不连贯。孩子的逝去让她需要情感发泄的窗口，现实中的生活又让她学会坚强。乱葬岗上的骸骨背后是多少家庭的生死离别，每一段残忍的历史都应当在现在和未来不断反思。
20220223le。阿莫多瓦。主要是抱错孩子的女性故事，历史故事融入的过于生硬。3.5
是生理上的，基因比对后才发现奇情桥段里错抱婴儿的平行母亲，抚摸，轻吻，想念，发狂。是性别上的，亲密关系里恋母般互相缠绵的平行母亲，暧昧，交合，拉扯，憎恨。是家国上的，无尽黄土历史交叠中养育人民的平行母亲，珍视，奉献，交战，化尘。你诞生我多么爱你，你死去我也要为你证名。
杂糅两条主线 就算是隐喻也让人摸不着头脑 同性情节更是奇怪 结尾只能是一脸懵
標記想看是去年的除夕，那個時候沒有了夏日的病痛，卻進入了一個完全陌生的世界。這部影片裏也是講了各式各樣的“失去”，所以感覺被聽到。
四星半。作为最会讲故事的导演，阿莫多瓦此次放弃了细密的情节变奏，转而以节点式的冲突构建更为宏大的叙事主体。人类的行为习惯不断演变，但却会留存于基因之中，一代又一代的传承下去。与此同时，人类的行为习惯所促生的爱欲亲情、杀戮悔恨，也会篆刻于历史之中，永不磨灭。影片中的两位母亲，甚至周遭之人，均有着各自的生活轨迹，但当近乎平行的日常生活有了命运般的转弯，产生交集，异化破裂，世界的黑与白却变得更为清晰。阿莫多瓦以多元的视角，描摹着女性的社会遭遇，深度探讨了女性主义的正反两面，并通过这些孕育出全人类的女性，拷问着历史真相。正如Eduardo Galeano所言，“无论他们如何焚烧它，无论他们如何粉碎它，无论他们如何伪造它，人类历史都拒绝保持沉默。”佩内洛普·克鲁兹奉献了从影以来最出色的表演。
本质上是一部青少年成长电影，但掺杂了太多元素和内容，没有精彩的细节，也没有完满的解释，导致电影成了四不像，观感十分奇怪。两星。
啊，我可太喜欢了😭 不管是贯穿全片的挖墓主线还是女主和小女友之间的“露水情缘”真的好喜欢，可以看到西班牙、法国人对家庭与亲人的在意同时又可以看到她/他们对待爱情对待关系对待性对待孩子的开放、平等、自由的态度😭😭你永远可以相信女生与女生之间的情谊，不像电影里的异性恋夫妻只要离婚必定要争夺孩子的抚养权，但是可笑的是父亲这个角色本身其实根本就没资格去跟母亲争夺孩子，因为男人除了贡献了那一丝精子外就没有任何贡献，而本片中就算最后最亲近的孩子要被拿走了，我也不会大吵大闹我会帮你系好宝宝背带帮你提行李到电梯外😭😭😭p.s.看到Janis这样的milf怎么可能不心动😭😭😭😭😭
两名单身母亲是平行的，一心想要实现挖掘乱葬坑的Janis/Arturo与那些已进入耄耋之年的祖辈亦是平行的，它们来自不同的时空，但前者通过母爱的本能而联结，后者都把事实上早已远去的家庭记忆看作自己生命不可分割的一部分。两个故事本质上都在讲我们和这个世界从一出生开始就建立起的不可逆的情感联系，而所有的放下和向前看，都是对这种联系在某种程度上的复刻。影片用温暖的笔触为我们轻轻剥开每个人（或者狭义上，每位母亲）生命里不得不去面对和克服的宿命，它没有用传统的性别视角去讨论母亲角色，而是反过来尝试用母亲的视角去感知和构建世界，仅凭这一点就已经超越了很多家庭情节剧。
B+. 平行剧情的推进略微拧巴，但还是为它的情感厚度所折服。一边撕裂，一边愈合，在Penelope的强悍演绎下，演化成近乎官能性的情感冲击。阿莫多瓦用情节剧式的剧情起伏，去拟合个人伤痛与族群创伤的纹理：我们总要撕开视而不见的谎言，直面痛苦，寻找新生。女人如此，西班牙亦如此。结尾那场戏，目睹历史被诉说、出土、骤然醒来，忍不住地哭。
不能忘却历史的同胞，应如难以忘却我们的孩子一样。
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