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."
982｜80/100
真的太疼痛了，这个世界对女性的不公平。明明是两个人犯下的错误，却要一个人承担责任与苦果。制度也没有给予女性随意堕胎的权利，导致女主只能铤而走险，电影一次次把情绪聚焦在这不安、混沌、恐惧的阴霾下，也同样让身为女性的我反省性教育的安全普及……
让你怀孕的是一个政治家，他的朋友一个是医生，一个是律师，他们在海滩说说笑笑，当你快要溺死的时候他们劝你莫做蠢事。
沈腾马丽“异球恋”好浪漫啊，为了同一个目标而共同努力的互动也非常燃，结局十分震撼。
*First thing first，这部从片名到内容都跟近期美国最高法院推翻罗诉韦德案很契合，想起之前看过的一条评论，说禁止堕胎并不能消灭堕胎现象，而只是剥夺了女性通过正规途径进行堕胎的权利，更多的女性将会因为不正规堕胎而死亡
在她身上找不到一丝懦弱和妥协，而恰恰这种特立独行的气质，形象折射文明对垒蛮荒的艰辛，以及蛮荒泯灭和扼杀人性的漫长人类历史。那几幕只用现场采音的生疼戏份，共情满满。这部佳作可对标罗马尼亚《四月三周两天》。
这部要和《从不，很少，有时，总是》对照着看，同一个题材，不同时代不同国家。
将铁签伸进那一段是遮住眼睛看的 作为女性 看到生理疼
“我得了一种病，一种只会攻击女性的病，一种把女性变成家庭主妇的病。”
这就是为什么禁止堕胎是最愚蠢的政策：它只会把堕胎逼到地下进行，但永远会有女性赌上性命去做。“连坐法”（惩罚堕胎者的同时也惩罚帮助者、实施者）更会将女性逼上绝路，让她不得不站在爱人、朋友，以及医生、老师等身份的对面。电影的拍摄方式几乎是逼迫着观众与主角共视线、共体验、共情，非常“暴力”和强烈，威尼斯电影节放映时听说有评委觉得“感到恶心”。我觉得这是它很成功的地方——科技还不能让男人怀孕，但是电影有让所有人感受女性的痛苦的潜力，这是一种电影院式众生平等。当然，我很好奇男性观众到底是什么反应……
日常。波澜。阵痛。重归于日常。
C / 选择身体化与生动化来舍弃历史感未必是好的选择，尤其是同题材作品不少的当下。即便没有那些“切肤之痛”，「女人韵事」也可以摄人心魄。
六十年前的故事，在当下美国格外具有时代性，Wade v Roe被推翻，女性血淋淋的悲剧正将发生。威尼斯真是具有前瞻性
本片比《从不，很少，有时，总是》更焦虑，更不安，更绝望，也更深刻的表现了时机不对的怀孕将如何改变女人的前途和一生，更通过赤裸裸的血腥画面提醒观众堕胎成为女性的自由选择的好处。
观影过程中数次落泪，几乎对故事中女性的痛苦恐惧绝望无力感同身受。我不愿用“那个时代的女性”代称她们，因为你我都知晓深渊从未远去，无时无刻不在伺机而动，随时可能吞噬下一个你我她。
要不是这片我都不知道第三共和国立法禁止堕胎和避孕，直到60年代末才解禁，本片故事应当是发生在解禁前夜。视听年代气氛足，年轻演员表演到位，但故事层面只是一部直给的口号电影，细节不连贯，除了表现痛感的场景，关键情节都靠转场划过，人物很多选择缺乏逻辑基础，我觉得是因为人物传记做得不精。《四月三周两天》比本片成功在于没有逃避联系上下文推演的关键情节。女主眼睛像蓝宝石，很适合这个角色。Louise Chevillotte懂电影会挑戏。本片明显比《钛》更适合奥斯卡，我只能解释为这是对奥斯卡的抗议。片名L'Événement我只会翻译成“事件”，不知英语翻译成Happening是否主创本意，是的话则有蹭话题之嫌。
7。还是差了口气，无论是题材，还是摄影，都没有新意，唯一让人眼前一亮的是女主的表演。
第3472-身为男性，支持女性有自主选择权。那些宣称禁止堕胎的人是没摊到自己身上吧。
练习做爱技巧、手帕擦拭伤口、至少三场不必要的裸漏戏都像是对男性凝视的腹诽。剧作编排不如《四月三周两天》，但呈现出的女性身体的疼痛感不输于后者。应该走得更远，也值得金狮的褒奖。
一部看简介就足够了的电影，女孩如何争取自己女性堕胎的权利，好了，开始共情吧，电影看不看不重要。
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