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."
很精致，表演吸引人。这个主题太沉重了，是除了女导演很难感受到并表现出的啊。
观影体验其实是挺suffocating的。片中女儿的尖叫哭闹声，一大家人彼此的纷争和冲突，他人眼中若隐若现的敌意和恶意，来自各方的束缚等等，都让本人觉得极其压抑。
演员表演精湛 镜头情绪到位 配乐贴合动人
科尔曼演倔强拧巴的女性太得心应手了，爱过之后也得承担责任，不然逃到哪里都不是个办法。
继续补看奥斯卡提名影片，这部暗处的女儿获得三项提名，包括最佳女主角和最佳女配角，这部电影确实都是女人的戏，表演很细致，不过最终想表达什么最后也没看懂
压抑的情绪加上悬疑的气氛让人如坐针毡，可能也是母亲内心最真实的刻画。
总觉得结束的有点轻率了，有些点其实制造了悬疑但是没有下文去交代了，比如女主跟Lyer跳舞那场戏到底是发生了什么？或许是我看漏了？比起现在这条线里面Nina一家的叙述，女主早年的回忆和现在的交织真的看得人要流泪。那种离开了娃想开香槟的“amazing”的快乐，与之相伴又是不在场的愧疚和负罪感，你的小孩很爱你、你也爱他，但是你再也没有你自己了，你注定要有牺牲，注定无法再有无忧无虑的快乐，你注定要用愧疚换自由、用窒息换相爱。
少数讲述母亲的心灵苦难的女性电影，剧本比拍得更好，或许由于是处女作的原因，时空的转换可以更加流畅。
三星半。既然是Elena Ferrante的文本作为底子，那么必然指向的是女性在男权社会压迫下被困于自身角色的困境，导演作为新人在全片塞进了太多隐喻，却没有能力用合适的视觉语言把这些隐喻很好统一到主题之下。PS：Paul Mescal说自己来自都柏林的那一刻以为要和《普通人》产生联动了。
直到娃娃嘴里吐出沙虫来 这些年反刍的愧疚是否也终于可以向谁倾吐
想到妈咪在几次谈话中为对待小时候的我有很多不耐烦甚至加诸暴力悔恨不已说觉得很对不起，问我记不记恨她，每一次我都很诚恳地看着她回答：“不怪你，一点都不怪你，我理解，真的能理解，而且我不是成长为很好的人了嘛。”母职如何才能不成为一种惩罚呢，不论外界的支持能做到何种程度，这总之都携带着牺牲意味。
拿走娃娃说就是玩儿，这动机我居然好像李姐了——搁这玩母职束缚觉醒游戏呢，结果还没等说出“你要觉醒”就被小母亲捅了。好怪
这真的是处女作吗？ 可能也恰恰因为它是处女作吧
Lost daughter翻译为暗处的女儿，有点不理解的，还不如叫丢失的女儿。看完之后觉得，有种全世界都叫我不要生小孩的感觉，而我真的没有在刻意找这方面的电影或者刻意往这方面想，但事实就是现在越来越多以女性为主的电影，而生育又是一个女性绕不开的话题（也是有点可悲）。电影中的女主年轻时候为了追求自己的理想，抛弃了两个年幼的可爱的女儿，女主回忆中的女儿很多时候都是吵闹的惹事的，并没有太多温馨和谐的时候，说明直到现在的中年时期，女主仍然对当时的两个女儿没有太多的眷恋，更多的还是对当时自己的理想的追求。我想到现在，女主还是没有后悔，即使已经有点心理变态的拿走了一个小女孩的娃娃占为己有。女主说她是一个自私的人，我觉得这样的人并没有错。或许错的事，在没有想清楚的情况下生下了两个孩子这件事才是需要反思的。
早育毁一生。导演技巧不是很高。女主角特写，pov, 特写again, 配上一个音乐来force emotions。好多莫名的empty air。摄影构图普通，晚上的室内光不好看。
视听模拟心境，非常接近主观。多么令人窒息的遗憾，又是多么令人窒息的束缚和压抑，女性啊，矛盾中的矛盾，冲突从出生起就不曾停止。
四星半。非常非常惊艳以及直达内心。为什么我一直说我不要小孩。because I am an unnatural mother。”I left my daughters for three years.” “How did it feel?” “It felt amazing.” 作者选择的削水果皮的意象简直是惊人的sharp obversation。我成长中的很多事情都忘记了，但是我让我妈削水果不要削断皮的记忆一直都刻在脑子里。同看的男同学的感想是: Dakota Johnson’s hot。I want to have gyros for dinner tomorrow。。。
母亲迷失女儿，也代表着女儿失去母亲。在丧偶式育儿的情况广泛存在的历史中和当下，我们在影视作品中多为歌颂母亲的形象的伟大。但是日常琐碎中，子女的哭闹drive多少母亲crazy?母亲她作为人的欲望我们是否没有关注？
p. s.这部电影看的太过于压抑，站在女人的角度来体会女主人生的经历，痛苦大于快乐，谁看了都会不想要小孩的。这片不能在国内播出，影响我国的百年大计😂
这操蛋的生活 真够令人窒息的 这一切都不会过去的 日常恐育get
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