The micro-budget feature “Focus, Grandma” from Bosnian helmer-writer Pjer Žalica is a black comedy set in Sarajevo during the spring of 1992, when members of a dysfunctional family are summoned to the bed of their dying matriarch. As the siblings and their spouses arrive from far-flung parts of Yugoslavia, their squabbles and meanderings down memory lane, as well as machinations over the anticipated inheritance, distract them from the bigger picture of what is happening to their country.
Although the storyline feels a tad familiar and the humor is less sharp than in Žalica’s debut “Fuse,” there is considerable pleasure in watching the talented players in the ensemble. This opening attraction of the now-digital 26th edition of the Sarajevo fest is available for viewing worldwide via the fest’s online platform.
After the sympathetic family doctor (Izudin Bajrović) visits the home of Marija, the titular grandma and declares her time is nigh,...
Although the storyline feels a tad familiar and the humor is less sharp than in Žalica’s debut “Fuse,” there is considerable pleasure in watching the talented players in the ensemble. This opening attraction of the now-digital 26th edition of the Sarajevo fest is available for viewing worldwide via the fest’s online platform.
After the sympathetic family doctor (Izudin Bajrović) visits the home of Marija, the titular grandma and declares her time is nigh,...
- 8/15/2020
- by Alissa Simon
- Variety Film + TV
The comedy drama will receive its world premiere at the festival.
The world premiere of Pjer Žalica’s comedy drama Focus, Grandma will open the Sarajevo Film Festival in Bosnia-Herzegovina on August 14.
It marks the third time a film by Sarajevo-born Žalica has opened the festival after Fuse in 2003 and Days And Hours in 2004. Focus, Grandma was shot in the Bosnia and Herzegovinian capital in November last year. Fuse won the Silver Leopard at Locarno, best first feature at Sarajevo and the Golden Star at Marrakech in 2003.
Set in April 1992 during the early months of the Bosnian War, the story...
The world premiere of Pjer Žalica’s comedy drama Focus, Grandma will open the Sarajevo Film Festival in Bosnia-Herzegovina on August 14.
It marks the third time a film by Sarajevo-born Žalica has opened the festival after Fuse in 2003 and Days And Hours in 2004. Focus, Grandma was shot in the Bosnia and Herzegovinian capital in November last year. Fuse won the Silver Leopard at Locarno, best first feature at Sarajevo and the Golden Star at Marrakech in 2003.
Set in April 1992 during the early months of the Bosnian War, the story...
- 7/17/2020
- by 1100453¦Michael Rosser¦9¦
- ScreenDaily
Halima's Path, Croatia's Submission for the Academy Award Nomination for Best Foreign Language Film.
U.S. : None Yet. International Sales Agent: House of Film
Inherent to all armed conflicts across the world and throughout history are the numerous unresolved casualties in which families, specifically mothers, do not have a place to cry for their children because the body of the loved one has never been recovered. Their quest becomes not one in hopes of seeing their loved ones alive once more, but one to have something tangible to grieve and honor the fallen. Croatian director Arsen A. Ostojic follows the story of one of those mothers who searches for the remains of her husband and son after the Bosnian war. However, his plot, penned by Fedja Isovic, goes beyond the evident stirring reaction a story like this can provoke, but continues beyond with several twists and skeletons in the closet, progressing from a family's past which gives Halima's Path a premise even more captivating to follow.
Running through the gloomy night, Muslim teenager Safija (Olga Pakalovic) arrives at her aunt Halima's (Alma Prica) house in 1977 asking for help as she has just discovered she is pregnant by her Christian boyfriend Slavomir (Mijo Jurisic). Scorned by her father, Safija decides to give her child to infertile Halima for her and her husband Salko (Izudin Bajrovic) to raise. Twenty-three years later, and after the Bosnian war is finally over, strong-willed and determined Halima is now pursuing a heartbreaking mission; she must find whatever is left of Mizra, the son she adopted as her own and who was taken by Christian soldiers when he was a teenage boy along with her husband Salko. Her DNA helped her find her late husband’s scattered bones, but in order to consummate her goal and find closure in her son's case, she must obtain a blood sample from her son’s biological mother.
Based on true events, Ostojic’s account reveals itself slowly as it is told going between the initial time before the bloodshed, the night when Mizra was abducted, and the present day where Halima’s struggles to find answers. Safija, now older and with three daughters, resides in a remote town in what was designated as the Serbian side after the conflict. She still lives with Slavomir, who returned from Germany to be with her, but got caught up fighting for the Serbian side and is now an inveterate alcoholic who drinks to forget the atrocities he witnessed and took part in. Furthermore, and certainly more problematic, is the fact that he has lived believing the son which Safija was expecting had died at birth. On the other hand, visibly tormented by uncertainty, self-assured Halima finds comfort in knitting sweaters for a son who will never wear them, and also by spending time with her nephew Aaron, who grew up with Mizra and is virtually the same age.
Eventually, all the distorted truths come into light as Halima sets the plot in motion when she approaches Safija and discloses her plight. Visually proficient at distinguishing the many moods the characters endure in a span of three decades, the film is successful at elevating the war genre by delving into the collateral sequels of the deplorable slaughter that took place in the Balkan territory. Alma Prica is enthralling as the underrated mother who will stop at nothing to kiss her child goodbye, and as the climatic sequence of her journey progresses, it is hard to hold back one’s tears at the sight of such a heart-wrenching performance.
Besides being a poignant story of perseverance, the filmmaker’s elaborate narrative contains subdued undertones of darkness that manifest the damage inflicted by the carnage, not only bodily but also the spiritual damage. Slavomir cannot cope with the past; he is persecuted by the demons of his crimes which effectively contrasts with Halima’s optimistic resolution. Together their experiences paint a multilayered mural of what the religious and cultural divide destroyed. Ostojic is more than familiar with the region and its subtleties, their predicaments and family dynamics, and that very insight is what makes Halima’s Path, an unforgettably moving and important film.
Read more about all the 76 Best Foreign Language Film Submission for the 2014 Academy Awards...
U.S. : None Yet. International Sales Agent: House of Film
Inherent to all armed conflicts across the world and throughout history are the numerous unresolved casualties in which families, specifically mothers, do not have a place to cry for their children because the body of the loved one has never been recovered. Their quest becomes not one in hopes of seeing their loved ones alive once more, but one to have something tangible to grieve and honor the fallen. Croatian director Arsen A. Ostojic follows the story of one of those mothers who searches for the remains of her husband and son after the Bosnian war. However, his plot, penned by Fedja Isovic, goes beyond the evident stirring reaction a story like this can provoke, but continues beyond with several twists and skeletons in the closet, progressing from a family's past which gives Halima's Path a premise even more captivating to follow.
Running through the gloomy night, Muslim teenager Safija (Olga Pakalovic) arrives at her aunt Halima's (Alma Prica) house in 1977 asking for help as she has just discovered she is pregnant by her Christian boyfriend Slavomir (Mijo Jurisic). Scorned by her father, Safija decides to give her child to infertile Halima for her and her husband Salko (Izudin Bajrovic) to raise. Twenty-three years later, and after the Bosnian war is finally over, strong-willed and determined Halima is now pursuing a heartbreaking mission; she must find whatever is left of Mizra, the son she adopted as her own and who was taken by Christian soldiers when he was a teenage boy along with her husband Salko. Her DNA helped her find her late husband’s scattered bones, but in order to consummate her goal and find closure in her son's case, she must obtain a blood sample from her son’s biological mother.
Based on true events, Ostojic’s account reveals itself slowly as it is told going between the initial time before the bloodshed, the night when Mizra was abducted, and the present day where Halima’s struggles to find answers. Safija, now older and with three daughters, resides in a remote town in what was designated as the Serbian side after the conflict. She still lives with Slavomir, who returned from Germany to be with her, but got caught up fighting for the Serbian side and is now an inveterate alcoholic who drinks to forget the atrocities he witnessed and took part in. Furthermore, and certainly more problematic, is the fact that he has lived believing the son which Safija was expecting had died at birth. On the other hand, visibly tormented by uncertainty, self-assured Halima finds comfort in knitting sweaters for a son who will never wear them, and also by spending time with her nephew Aaron, who grew up with Mizra and is virtually the same age.
Eventually, all the distorted truths come into light as Halima sets the plot in motion when she approaches Safija and discloses her plight. Visually proficient at distinguishing the many moods the characters endure in a span of three decades, the film is successful at elevating the war genre by delving into the collateral sequels of the deplorable slaughter that took place in the Balkan territory. Alma Prica is enthralling as the underrated mother who will stop at nothing to kiss her child goodbye, and as the climatic sequence of her journey progresses, it is hard to hold back one’s tears at the sight of such a heart-wrenching performance.
Besides being a poignant story of perseverance, the filmmaker’s elaborate narrative contains subdued undertones of darkness that manifest the damage inflicted by the carnage, not only bodily but also the spiritual damage. Slavomir cannot cope with the past; he is persecuted by the demons of his crimes which effectively contrasts with Halima’s optimistic resolution. Together their experiences paint a multilayered mural of what the religious and cultural divide destroyed. Ostojic is more than familiar with the region and its subtleties, their predicaments and family dynamics, and that very insight is what makes Halima’s Path, an unforgettably moving and important film.
Read more about all the 76 Best Foreign Language Film Submission for the 2014 Academy Awards...
- 11/21/2013
- by Carlos Aguilar
- Sydney's Buzz
Emir Baigazin’s Harmony Lessons won the 39th Seattle International Film Festival’s Best New Director grand jury prize on Sunday [9] as top brass handed out jury and audience awards.Scroll down for full list of winners
The Siff 2013 Best Documentary grand jury prize went to Penny Lane’s Our Nixon and Lucy Walker earned a special jury prize for The Crash Reel, while Kyle Patrick Alvarez took the Best New American Cinema grand jury prize for C.O.G.
In the audience awards, Henk Pretorius’ Fanie Fourie’s Lobola won the Best Film Golden Space Needle Award and Morgan Neville’s Twenty Feet From Stardom took the corresponding documentary prize.
The Best Director Golden Space Needle Award went to Nabil Ayouch for Horses Of God, while best actor was awarded to James Cromwell for Still Mine and best actress to Samantha Morton for Decoding Annie Parker.
The Best Short Film Golden Space Needle Award was presented to [link...
The Siff 2013 Best Documentary grand jury prize went to Penny Lane’s Our Nixon and Lucy Walker earned a special jury prize for The Crash Reel, while Kyle Patrick Alvarez took the Best New American Cinema grand jury prize for C.O.G.
In the audience awards, Henk Pretorius’ Fanie Fourie’s Lobola won the Best Film Golden Space Needle Award and Morgan Neville’s Twenty Feet From Stardom took the corresponding documentary prize.
The Best Director Golden Space Needle Award went to Nabil Ayouch for Horses Of God, while best actor was awarded to James Cromwell for Still Mine and best actress to Samantha Morton for Decoding Annie Parker.
The Best Short Film Golden Space Needle Award was presented to [link...
- 6/9/2013
- by jeremykay67@gmail.com (Jeremy Kay)
- ScreenDaily
BERLIN -- "Svjedoci" (Witnesses) is a masterful piece of storytelling that looks at events surrounding a murder and the possible execution of its only witness through various points of view. Croatian director Vinko Bresan, whose first two films were political satires, abandons irony here for an honest and emotional account of how war and ethnic hatred corrupt moral behavior. With top-notch production values, especially fluid and sharp-focused cinematography by Zivko Zalar, this Berlinale competition film makes an excellent candidate for art houses everywhere.
Bresan follows a recent filmmaking trend that eschews linear narration in favor of a fractured story wherein the same events are recounted from different viewpoints, letting motivations and back story gradually fill in a picture that is only completely clear in the film's final moments.
Bresan is being anything but trendy, however, as the multiple retellings underscore the movie's theme -- that everybody has reasons for behaving as he or she does. Episodes over a couple of days -- retold with subplots, digressions and seemingly minor characters along with flashbacks to a war raging nearby -- reveal a web of deceit that stems from desperation and despair.
Based on Jurica Pavicic's novel "Alabaster Sheep", which evidently did tell its story in a traditional narrative, the script by the novelist, director and cinematographer traces a murder and police investigation in a small town in Croatia near the front line of the civil war more than a decade ago. Fueled by alcohol, three Croatian soldiers try to plant a bomb at the home of a Serb alleged to be a smuggler and black marketer. Startled to find him home -- he is supposed to be away -- they are forced to shoot him. Then they discover a witness whom they capture and hide in a garage belonging to the mother of one soldier.
The mother (Mirjana Karanovic), who the next day must bury a husband who was killed at the front, enlists a political uncle to cover up the crime. An honest cop (Drazen Kuhn) and a female journalist (Alma Prica) launch separate investigations. Then a crippled soldier (Leon Lucev), the boyfriend of the journalist and the mother's elder son, returns home, and more secrets and lies spill out.
The different viewpoints reveal the interconnections of nearly everyone in the small town, a microcosm for what happened in Croatia, where terrible things occurred during the war and everyone, in a sense, bore witness to these crimes against humanity.
Bresan's superb cast plays these roles with arresting intensity. Life, once measured in months and years, during civil carnage now boils down to a matter of moments. Everything gets speeded up and frantic, yet by fracturing the narrative, Bresan succeeds in slowing things back down so we can appreciate the moral vacuum created by war.
The mother, the movie's initial focal point, struggles to hold her family together. But as the movie continues to shift viewpoints, the dilemma of the three soldiers comes into view. Then the film explores the inquiry by the police officer, whose wife lies dying from a bullet wound in the hospital, and finally the older brother and his journalist girlfriend, so worried about the fate of the witness, who is a little girl.
Few films could handle so many shifts in protagonists, but with this cast under the guidance of a director in full command of the language of cinema and the art of storytelling, these shifts come off with startling ease.
Bresan follows a recent filmmaking trend that eschews linear narration in favor of a fractured story wherein the same events are recounted from different viewpoints, letting motivations and back story gradually fill in a picture that is only completely clear in the film's final moments.
Bresan is being anything but trendy, however, as the multiple retellings underscore the movie's theme -- that everybody has reasons for behaving as he or she does. Episodes over a couple of days -- retold with subplots, digressions and seemingly minor characters along with flashbacks to a war raging nearby -- reveal a web of deceit that stems from desperation and despair.
Based on Jurica Pavicic's novel "Alabaster Sheep", which evidently did tell its story in a traditional narrative, the script by the novelist, director and cinematographer traces a murder and police investigation in a small town in Croatia near the front line of the civil war more than a decade ago. Fueled by alcohol, three Croatian soldiers try to plant a bomb at the home of a Serb alleged to be a smuggler and black marketer. Startled to find him home -- he is supposed to be away -- they are forced to shoot him. Then they discover a witness whom they capture and hide in a garage belonging to the mother of one soldier.
The mother (Mirjana Karanovic), who the next day must bury a husband who was killed at the front, enlists a political uncle to cover up the crime. An honest cop (Drazen Kuhn) and a female journalist (Alma Prica) launch separate investigations. Then a crippled soldier (Leon Lucev), the boyfriend of the journalist and the mother's elder son, returns home, and more secrets and lies spill out.
The different viewpoints reveal the interconnections of nearly everyone in the small town, a microcosm for what happened in Croatia, where terrible things occurred during the war and everyone, in a sense, bore witness to these crimes against humanity.
Bresan's superb cast plays these roles with arresting intensity. Life, once measured in months and years, during civil carnage now boils down to a matter of moments. Everything gets speeded up and frantic, yet by fracturing the narrative, Bresan succeeds in slowing things back down so we can appreciate the moral vacuum created by war.
The mother, the movie's initial focal point, struggles to hold her family together. But as the movie continues to shift viewpoints, the dilemma of the three soldiers comes into view. Then the film explores the inquiry by the police officer, whose wife lies dying from a bullet wound in the hospital, and finally the older brother and his journalist girlfriend, so worried about the fate of the witness, who is a little girl.
Few films could handle so many shifts in protagonists, but with this cast under the guidance of a director in full command of the language of cinema and the art of storytelling, these shifts come off with startling ease.
BERLIN -- "Svjedoci" (Witnesses) is a masterful piece of storytelling that looks at events surrounding a murder and the possible execution of its only witness through various points of view. Croatian director Vinko Bresan, whose first two films were political satires, abandons irony here for an honest and emotional account of how war and ethnic hatred corrupt moral behavior. With top-notch production values, especially fluid and sharp-focused cinematography by Zivko Zalar, this Berlinale competition film makes an excellent candidate for art houses everywhere.
Bresan follows a recent filmmaking trend that eschews linear narration in favor of a fractured story wherein the same events are recounted from different viewpoints, letting motivations and back story gradually fill in a picture that is only completely clear in the film's final moments.
Bresan is being anything but trendy, however, as the multiple retellings underscore the movie's theme -- that everybody has reasons for behaving as he or she does. Episodes over a couple of days -- retold with subplots, digressions and seemingly minor characters along with flashbacks to a war raging nearby -- reveal a web of deceit that stems from desperation and despair.
Based on Jurica Pavicic's novel "Alabaster Sheep", which evidently did tell its story in a traditional narrative, the script by the novelist, director and cinematographer traces a murder and police investigation in a small town in Croatia near the front line of the civil war more than a decade ago. Fueled by alcohol, three Croatian soldiers try to plant a bomb at the home of a Serb alleged to be a smuggler and black marketer. Startled to find him home -- he is supposed to be away -- they are forced to shoot him. Then they discover a witness whom they capture and hide in a garage belonging to the mother of one soldier.
The mother (Mirjana Karanovic), who the next day must bury a husband who was killed at the front, enlists a political uncle to cover up the crime. An honest cop (Drazen Kuhn) and a female journalist (Alma Prica) launch separate investigations. Then a crippled soldier (Leon Lucev), the boyfriend of the journalist and the mother's elder son, returns home, and more secrets and lies spill out.
The different viewpoints reveal the interconnections of nearly everyone in the small town, a microcosm for what happened in Croatia, where terrible things occurred during the war and everyone, in a sense, bore witness to these crimes against humanity.
Bresan's superb cast plays these roles with arresting intensity. Life, once measured in months and years, during civil carnage now boils down to a matter of moments. Everything gets speeded up and frantic, yet by fracturing the narrative, Bresan succeeds in slowing things back down so we can appreciate the moral vacuum created by war.
The mother, the movie's initial focal point, struggles to hold her family together. But as the movie continues to shift viewpoints, the dilemma of the three soldiers comes into view. Then the film explores the inquiry by the police officer, whose wife lies dying from a bullet wound in the hospital, and finally the older brother and his journalist girlfriend, so worried about the fate of the witness, who is a little girl.
Few films could handle so many shifts in protagonists, but with this cast under the guidance of a director in full command of the language of cinema and the art of storytelling, these shifts come off with startling ease.
Bresan follows a recent filmmaking trend that eschews linear narration in favor of a fractured story wherein the same events are recounted from different viewpoints, letting motivations and back story gradually fill in a picture that is only completely clear in the film's final moments.
Bresan is being anything but trendy, however, as the multiple retellings underscore the movie's theme -- that everybody has reasons for behaving as he or she does. Episodes over a couple of days -- retold with subplots, digressions and seemingly minor characters along with flashbacks to a war raging nearby -- reveal a web of deceit that stems from desperation and despair.
Based on Jurica Pavicic's novel "Alabaster Sheep", which evidently did tell its story in a traditional narrative, the script by the novelist, director and cinematographer traces a murder and police investigation in a small town in Croatia near the front line of the civil war more than a decade ago. Fueled by alcohol, three Croatian soldiers try to plant a bomb at the home of a Serb alleged to be a smuggler and black marketer. Startled to find him home -- he is supposed to be away -- they are forced to shoot him. Then they discover a witness whom they capture and hide in a garage belonging to the mother of one soldier.
The mother (Mirjana Karanovic), who the next day must bury a husband who was killed at the front, enlists a political uncle to cover up the crime. An honest cop (Drazen Kuhn) and a female journalist (Alma Prica) launch separate investigations. Then a crippled soldier (Leon Lucev), the boyfriend of the journalist and the mother's elder son, returns home, and more secrets and lies spill out.
The different viewpoints reveal the interconnections of nearly everyone in the small town, a microcosm for what happened in Croatia, where terrible things occurred during the war and everyone, in a sense, bore witness to these crimes against humanity.
Bresan's superb cast plays these roles with arresting intensity. Life, once measured in months and years, during civil carnage now boils down to a matter of moments. Everything gets speeded up and frantic, yet by fracturing the narrative, Bresan succeeds in slowing things back down so we can appreciate the moral vacuum created by war.
The mother, the movie's initial focal point, struggles to hold her family together. But as the movie continues to shift viewpoints, the dilemma of the three soldiers comes into view. Then the film explores the inquiry by the police officer, whose wife lies dying from a bullet wound in the hospital, and finally the older brother and his journalist girlfriend, so worried about the fate of the witness, who is a little girl.
Few films could handle so many shifts in protagonists, but with this cast under the guidance of a director in full command of the language of cinema and the art of storytelling, these shifts come off with startling ease.
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