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."
复古做的挺好的，虽然剧情单薄但是很喜欢。当我年老没有性生活时的真实写照。
老年人的xing压抑感同身受，年老的身体里装着一个年轻的心，苦不堪言，只能留恋于年轻人的幻想。不过杀戮有点拉垮
3.5星！老人对于自身的身体的否定，女孩对于自身的生活以及作为花瓶的事实的否定，就如同“X”这一符号，两者的欲求虽不同，但两者内在存在的否定性却是相同的，对现状，对事实，对不应遭受如此之境的自身的否定却是相同的。
血腥、性、血浆、暴力、愤怒、嫉妒、懵懂。年轻的时候就要疯狂做哎，不然到老了就后悔去吧！垂死的老太婆和老太公因为得不到性快感而杀掉来他们家拍A片的年轻人（没错故事就这么简单）。太好看了！一枪爆头、推下湖泊被鳄鱼吃掉、砍手指，最后老太公操老太婆，幸存的女孩躲在床底，太好笑了哈哈哈哈戏剧死了！！！let fuck every day and night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
就像那时的美国梦一样荒谬，美国当年性解放的荒谬也可见一斑啊，哈哈哈，至少是不适用于中国国情滴。这几个女主也是勇于奉献。这个老年人性饥渴性嫉妒性变态确实怪哈人的...这老逼登也是让我开了眼界了。编导是挺有想法挺会拍的
其实立意挺新，没有玩老梗，那帮完恐怖片的都在追求故事核的跃升，这是好现象，不然，月光光，猛鬼街，以及电锯们都快玩虚脱了。终于来了个原罪探讨+皱皮朽木的躯体对鲜嫩光润身体的嫉妒和对性爱的渴望引起的血腥杀戮。血腥指数，可以给1分，故事立意、给1分。结尾的闭环-最该受惩罚的恰恰是施与判决书的。l
好血腥啊。看不了，如果有一天我也搞不动了，我想我也会难过到发疯的。
几个女的身材很不错了，非常的刺激，这个就是个人欲望战胜理性
“看这部片子的人不是冲着情节来的，他们想看XX和XX，还有大XX！”
三星半，观影体验很好，就打分高一点吧。非常迷影向的恐怖片，虽然有创意不够的嫌疑但是由于表现手法上蛮有质感，也觉得不是粗制滥造的无脑作品。一人分饰两角算是最大的创意，衰老的肉体可能本身就带有恐怖感觉。
太一般…老年人招谁惹谁了 被导演给拍成嫉妒 自怨自艾 性爱成瘾的形象…
7.3(3⃣️)，复古气质非常迷人，录像带特有的粗糙感和情色视角反而提炼了更多的惊悚氛围，混杂着一些slasher的美学致敬，前一小时的铺垫段落中有些有趣的转场效果，而后半段的虐杀虽然仓促和力量骤减，却有血溅车灯于红光中起舞的惊喜巧思。虐杀的源头是欲望，无法继续压抑便爆发出凶猛能量，影片成功把对于腐朽躯体的畏惧和对于老年人性欲的避讳调合，激发出这样一种怪异的恐怖感/ 喜欢Mia Goth
想到骆以军讲的爱丽丝门罗的小说，那个想要青春永驻的老妇人。最恐怖的可能就是一直等着开灯，结果一把鱼叉直刺上脸来。音乐很特别，老年人性欲角度和交叉剪辑较少见，但也不算得什么。一路都铺垫上了，全片整体性比较强，但给的又太直白了，多埋一点观感会更好。
X是爱的注脚、是女性符号、是对隐晦的代称、是无限和未知的笔画。这是一部特殊的恐怖片，虐杀的视觉效果，腐朽的皮肉体验，崩坏的精神世界，在躁动与死寂中不断切换的隔绝空间。电视圣经的长袍下长满了现实的虱子，沟壑纵横的容颜里安葬着致命的美貌，性感女郎在吉他边依偎着文艺的曲调，三流摄影让惊魂记蒙上高贵的阴影，冷漠的远景是上帝睥睨，焦灼的特写是魔鬼发酵。录像带、死亡与爱，都是无处告解的情怀。而你并不特别，是年轻才显得特别。
好同情那一对儿老夫妻，最后老太太没把女主杀了，属实可惜。
A24标准元素：动物/肉体/欲望/爆炸的身体。尝试把惊悚和情欲融为一体，同时将衰老和宗教作为不断萦绕的恐惧。衰老和妒忌被导向了杀人和毁灭的欲望，这套逻辑非常恐怖片
没抱什么期待，只是个对剥削电影的剥削。当创造者思考的不是内容上的新异，拍出来的电影又怎么能够格。想到这真是对这种电影厌透了，结构狂文本狂自己开个新流派玩去吧，少用食之无味弃之可惜的老元素勾引人
看完《德州电锯杀人狂》后才发现这部不仅照搬了某些结构设定，更是对于先前杰作中核心情绪的拓写。开头的镜头由谷仓内推向门外，画幅扩展，年老色衰的恐怖片类型回光返照。创造影像的主体在被带入“旧片场”的手持摄影机与早已潜伏在此的视点之间来回争夺，被认为记录下血腥片段的胶片中可能只是一些色情桥段而已。后半段实在有点A24通病了，叙事被高概念很吃力地拖着往前走，巧则巧矣。
摄影蛮有想法，有那么些希区柯克的意思，衰老这个主题也蛮引发共情。。从救命解药记住的米娅高斯，这么有辨识度和可塑性的妹子，咋这么多年都还一直在恐怖片里兜兜转转叻？。。
中途一度觉得ageism很不妥，但里面的ageists确实都死翘翘了，老妪性欲也爆棚了，老头也为爱献身了，俩人床戏也很雄伟了，就有一种微妙的borderline anti-ageist的感觉😂 另外伪善导演先死为敬很棒了
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