電影開始，女主角卡塔就說，我想要一個(gè)孩子。 卡塔四十二歲，做著一份看似麻木的工作，有一個(gè)情人，我姑且把他稱爲(wèi)情人，因爲(wèi)他有家室?？ㄋ]讓她情人離婚，她接受這樣的一種關(guān)係，可能她也懂得，她無法將他擁有，他有妻子，甚至有屬於他但卻又不屬於她的孩子。所以，卡塔希望有一個(gè)真正屬於她、被她所擁有的一個(gè)孩子，一個(gè)家庭。 電影的人物特寫鏡頭很漂亮，除了構(gòu)圖具有美感外，演員的表演也頗爲(wèi)細(xì)膩。片中有兩個(gè)鏡頭令我記憶猶深。一個(gè)是卡塔和安娜在餐廳吃飯的場景，一個(gè)是最後宴會中安娜男人強(qiáng)吻安娜的場景。兩個(gè)鏡頭都有一個(gè)相似之處，就是安娜與另一半有親密接觸之時(shí)，實(shí)焦部分我們都只能看見安娜，另一半都被一個(gè)景深外的虛焦男人所遮掩。我不想去揣測導(dǎo)演的用意，只是這個(gè)鏡頭給我的感覺是，永遠(yuǎn)都有一個(gè)未知在等待著我們。別輕言擁有。 除此之外，宴會那段衝突鏡頭更可謂全片精華，精彩至極，一大段愉悅場面的鋪墊下，筆鋒突轉(zhuǎn)，安娜男人想去吻安娜，但安娜卻把他推開，這種意外的震撼實(shí)在顯得有力無比。導(dǎo)演用了省略的手法去述説他們的不和，我們不知道他們爲(wèi)什麼不和，但原因已經(jīng)不重要了，我們跟情人一起，不也是會無端地出現(xiàn)不和嗎？我們不知道爲(wèi)什麼會這樣，熱戀時(shí)候明明不會如此，但此時(shí)卻實(shí)實(shí)在在地發(fā)生了?；蛟S這就是所謂的緣起緣滅。 安娜曾經(jīng)也有養(yǎng)父養(yǎng)母，不曉得安娜是否真的曾經(jīng)把他們視作一生的父母，但她的養(yǎng)父養(yǎng)母必然在領(lǐng)養(yǎng)安娜之時(shí)懷著一顆照顧她一生一世的心?？珊兜氖牵瑫r(shí)間遠(yuǎn)去，養(yǎng)父養(yǎng)母對安娜的情也消失殆盡，甚至巴不得她儘快離開這個(gè)家，永遠(yuǎn)不回來。安娜懂得不能永遠(yuǎn)擁有養(yǎng)父養(yǎng)母，所以她拒絕了卡塔做她養(yǎng)母的要求，她把這個(gè)擁有，寄望于他的男人，可惜的是，最後事與願違。 卡塔也一早懂得不能擁有她情人，所以她才寄望于擁有一個(gè)孩子。她也懂得她不能擁有安娜，安娜告訴她，不要領(lǐng)養(yǎng)孤兒，因爲(wèi)他們有他們的經(jīng)歷，永遠(yuǎn)不屬於你。不曉得她是否因爲(wèi)聼了安娜的話，最終卡塔領(lǐng)養(yǎng)了一個(gè)很小很小的孤兒，一個(gè)心智還沒發(fā)育、沒有自己記憶和思想的孤兒。 但領(lǐng)養(yǎng)，孩子本身就不屬於自己，可以擁有他現(xiàn)在，甚至未來，但能夠擁有他真實(shí)存在過的過去嗎？哪怕只有一年、一月、甚至一天。但其實(shí)，就算是親生的骨肉，又能肯定自己可以擁有他所有的未來嗎?？ㄋ蛟S覺得可以，她堅(jiān)定地說，她可以照顧那孩子。結(jié)局的結(jié)局到底如何，我們不並曉得，我只是在想，到底什麼才算擁有，難道這次我抱緊你未必落空。 這部電影讓我想起了林夕的一篇文，《生命中不能擁有的》。在那篇文章的結(jié)尾，林夕引用了他自己的一句歌詞，“愛若難以放進(jìn)手裏，何不將它放進(jìn)心裏”。

ADOPTION, the Golden Bear winner from Márta Mészáros, once married to Jancsó, is an entirely different monster, defiantly sets an unmarried, 40-something woman as its focus point, she is Kata (Berek), a factory worker who intends to have a child on her own, even to the firm disapproval of her married lover Jóska (Szabó), and she has a dry run when a girl from the nearby children institution, Anna (Vigh) seeks refuge in her house, so she can meet her sweetheart Sanyi (Fried) in private, Kata’s maternal potential is under test as a capricious Anna is hardly a cakewalk for her, however, a unique bond starts to shape and a deeply felt compassion prompts Kata to take it on her self to seek consent from Anna’s delinquent mother and stepfather, so that she and Sanyi can tie the knot, start their life anew.

The two women’s growing tendresse is mesmerically invoked by Mészáros’ considerate, intimate camera that, more often than not, takes a closer attachment to its subjects in dreamlike soft-focus, conjures up a sensible, sensual aroma that shores up the feminine rapport which becomes the backbone of the story, yet Mészáros neither romanticizes nor dents the edge off the strains that germinate from two strangers’ tentative elicitations. Also her keen eye on realism coheres with a judicious awareness of the location, whether in the factory where female wage slaves toil in an insalubrious environment, or a pokey apartment where Kata braves herself with Jóska’s unwitting wife, Mészáros’ female instinct and acuteness prevails in this heartfelt, earnest gem.

Remarkably, she doesn’t opt for a radical strategy to tackle the sexism issue head on, Kata, through Berek’s sterling interpretation, who particularly resembles Helen Mirren but foregrounds her steely fortitude, unalloyed emotion to the fore with flying colors, is not designed to be a crusader, no banner is brandished, no rousing speech is required, she is a feminist fighter in the most pragmatical way, do the right thing within her capacity, she sees the problems (whether it is in the self-seeking Jóska or the national institution), but realistically, she is not in the right position to challenge the status quo, in lieu, she smartly capitalizes on her savoir-faire to get things undone, actions are louder than words, Kata is a heroine that we can all emulate.

Meanwhile, Anna is mutable and rebellious, also sensuous and daring, played by Vigh with a pixieish alertness and unabashed mystique, her fate is also sagely open to interpret, when we last see her, her matrimony might not be a manna from heaven as we reckon, some cracks already materialize, still, it is her own journey from then on, for better or worse. In the end of the day, a massive shout-out to Mészáros’ fearless film whose ideological maturity and perspicacity are head and shoulders above its peers, not to mention, it is such a well-honed film that leave audience transfixed by its intimist pulchritude.

referential entries: László Nemes’s SON OF SAUL (2015, 7.4/10); Ildikó Enyedi’s MY TWENTIETH CENTURY (1989, 7.2/10).