FRIEDENFLECHTEN: SNIJEG

In Aida Begić's 2008 feature film debut, one directed with a steady hand, the images speak without being too large for the stories they tell whilst the protagonists connect with one another and the viewer by means of gesture. The faces she depicts are hard, revealing a tension whose wealth of nuance is played out with restrained bravado by the ensemble cast. SNOW depicts this tension with calm imagery whilst developing the story line with an organic dramaturgy that, whilst foregoing violent metaphors and big words, nevertheless delves deeply into the landscape.

Begić sets her story in the beautiful mountainous landscape of eastern Bosnia. The slopes are covered in the lime green of the trees, the mosque overlooks the vast valley below, crystal-clear water flows from the well and the fauna provides the villagers with enough fruit to produce jam, paprika paste, and compote, all completely organic. Mines lie in the forests however, the church has been destroyed, and instead of roofs it is ragged UN-issued tarpaulin that protects the residents of the shell-damaged houses from the rain; Hardly anyone passes by on the street to buy the women's preserves. Every now and then, a memento turns up, such as the glasses of a missing husband, the discovery of which evokes both hope and despair. SNOW delves deep into the isolated existence of a traumatised village community and a poetry of contrasts: on the one hand the purity of nature, where the worst war crimes in Europe in the second half of the 20th century took place; on the other, the rugged landscapes of the soul left behind by war.

When an international investor wants to buy the land, a conflict erupts. The French backers send a neighbour of Serbian descent as a negotiator, someone who speaks the language but also someone they know in the village. Someone who was probably there when the soldiers and militia descended on the village and carried out a campaign of ethnic cleansing. Though perhaps not – Begić doesn't intend to settle scores, instead preferring to show how repressed emotions and anger come to the surface. And once again, the experience of defencelessness, this time in the face of the Europeans with their sacks of money, who send the Serb from the neighbouring village, here for a second time to cleanse the area.

And yet the rhythm of life in this village community frustrates both donors and negotiators alike. Collective experience and the pressure to survive have forged a unity here that even the cheapest of intrigues can only temporarily disrupt. Ultimately, the women receive an answer to the question of where their relatives were taken to be killed. Certainty, if nothing else. And with its white cloak, the snow now falling covers the past and present in a manner almost conciliatory.

Text: Bernd Buder, based on a film review published by the author in Filmdienst on 10.12.2009.

Thu 06.11. I 16:30 I KAMMERBÜHNE I original version with English subtitles + simultaneous German translation
(pre-film: THE DIVIDED CITY OF MITROVICA)

Panel: PEACE WEAVING & FILM. 30 years of experience from South-Eastern Europe Kammerbühne, Fr 07.11. | 18:30