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."
社畜很真实，活着真的很难。但是有的人想活着也是奢望了。母亲，总在家庭生活承担牺牲的责任。拍得一般般。
看来小资产阶级社区的人都审美趣味比较高，不过我还是要给5分，
影片的后半程，眼泪只能间歇性的收住，其他的时候便是汹涌难止了。《关于我妈的一切》没有刻意的煽情，往往着手于细微小事，以真见情，拥有令人声泪俱下的魔力。一直自认为泪点不高，却在观影时，留下了近年来最多的泪水。
医学生看到眼泪笑出来，一点常识都没有。这也拍不好那也拍不好，真的是看了个寂寞。关于你妈子宫肌瘤的一切，我一点都不想知道！！！
改编之下，所有人物之间的冲突柔和了不少，原本的社会议题被集中在家庭内部的和解，更多的“感动”填补了原本冲突的一部分，于是影片想要“煽情”的目的就表现得很明显了。当然，刻意营造的情绪反差，人物反差，甚至是遗愿清单式的最后的洒脱，都让它煽情很成功。
他被选中去南极的那天，发现自己环孕了，她选择了我
徐帆的表演绝了！！！老戏骨就是老戏骨。话说张婧仪和周也有点撞脸emmm
要素过多，发腻得很，编剧和演绎都很奇怪，拧得慌不对劲。
我是女儿，也是妈妈，我就觉得里面一些事情一些感情还挺真实的。
非常无趣，赞同高赞所说的，全片不断叠加催泪buff，把一切恶心事堆到了一起，典型丧偶式家庭的爹，巨婴还当三的女儿，操持一切但控制欲贼强还是扶弟魔的娘，嗑药滥赌的舅舅…像是从各种悲情电影里扣了几个人物，然后讲了个烂俗到家还逻辑不通的故事
还是比较不喜欢用生死感动人的剧情，徐帆的表演太话剧腔，女孩的表演又比较没有存在感，也就稀松平常了吧。
看的点映，虽然整个剧情很好哭，但是明明很有镜头爆发力的几场戏，被张静仪黏黏糊糊的台词跟毫无状态的演技，搞成了不响的哑炮。徐帆的演技也大打折扣……
看过原版，这个版本让人感觉一口气吊住却没上来的感觉，原版是妈妈生病以后，所有人的情感都开始互相坦诚，所有人都开始面对自己，而这个版本呢？好像大家还是各过各的日子，只是因为生了病同时她所以过去的一切就算了吧这种感觉，女儿的工作转换也是，忽然就得到了好工作，忽然就变好了。
这个可能发生在众多家庭中的故事，虽未能展现其社会属性，但对于单个家庭的而言，它仍是感人至深的。
我六岁的女儿很喜欢这部电影，不知道GET到了什么，就我个人而言，这部属于值得一看的电影，也有接地气的地方，当然做作的地方也不少~
看完都得给妈妈打个电话吧。
将观众的泪点拿捏的死死的。这类题材，尽管知道会讲什么，但还是会哭，而且是无数次的哭。不像李焕英结尾的催泪弹，本片从头到尾都在撒泪弹，尽管煽情的嫌疑很重，但她是讲我们的母亲啊，生活化的细节无比真实，台词动人，看着看着就哭了。对于母亲与孩子关系的探讨，小时候我们依赖她，长大了我们想逃离她，尽管知道她永远是为了我们好，可我们还是会烦，我们觉得自己没用，觉得自己达不到她的期望，觉得她太被她管而没有隐私，每次与她争吵后我们会生气，会难受，然后会后悔，但我们总是放不下脸去道歉，总是暗地告诉自己不要再对她发脾气，可我们总会这样。好好珍惜我们的母亲吧，如果能重来，我希望她能为自己而活，而我们现在能做的，也只有多陪陪她了。
4.每个人的青春都很美好，中老年就剩一地鸡毛吗
故事有泪点，我的体验是至少三处，演员也有演技，徐帆足够稳住一个人物。剪辑问题比较大，有些人物情绪明显接不上，同时剧情也不够顺滑，故事稍显平庸，个人认为剧本还需要深度打磨才行，好比我和妈妈的一切当中的“一切”体现的很窄，主要篇幅是在描述妈妈“管孩子和家管得有多宽”，这是对的，但也就仅仅浮于妈妈日常的表面，没有细心刻画妈妈日常背后的心理。另外，配角故事线的设置比较多余，甚至有些无厘头，个人认为是扣分的。整体观影体验“温馨”“感动”“故事平平”。
徐帆老师奉献精彩演出啊，该接地气儿的时候接地气儿，该煽情的时候眼泪说掉就掉，张弛有度。
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