Arts Listings

With The Grbavica: Land of My Dreams, director Jasmila Zbanic has fashioned a thoughtful and moving film about characters defined by the past while yearning to break free from it.  

Esma, a single mother, works two jobs while struggling to raise her 13-year-old daughter Sara amid the ruins and wreckage of Sarajevo’s Grbavica neighborhood, an area that functioned as a death camp during the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s. The understated photography and camerawork emphasize the battered and worn buildings and streets. Like the people who inhabit it, Grbavica is a work in progress, a neighborhood in ruins awaiting reconstruction.  

Mass graves are unearthed on a seemingly regular basis, and Esma is among the survivors who venture each week to the coroner’s office in an effort to identify the remains of lost loved ones in hopes of finding closure. This is a community of survivors still stunned by the enormity of the tragedy they have suffered; they cling to the past yet are eager to move on, to make sense of what remains.  

Actress Mirjana Karanovic, as Esma, has the ability to convey a wealth of emotions with just a glance. Her face is haunted and weary, struggling in vain to mask the pain and anxiety that shapes her daily life. She’s not sure she can trust people, and she has even less faith in her own ability to judge them. In every interaction Esma seems to be running through myriad interpretations of every word and gesture; she is not able to simply have a conversation, but instead weighs and measures the significance of every nuance before embarking on a reaction, a reaction which isn’t natural or instinctive but rather an only partially convincing re-creation of a natural reaction. 

Esma is defined by her experiences during the war, yet she keeps her painful memories bottled up, as though hoping that by denying them she may one day come to believe they never happened. She is not in therapy; she’s not ready for that yet. She only turns up for support group meetings once a month, when government checks are doled out.  

Her daughter Sara, meanwhile, has problems of her own. Luna Mijovic portrays the budding teenager as a tomboy, aggressive, moody and mean. The absence of a father and the increasing strain on her mother and thus their home life only compound her troubles. She too looks to the past to shape her identity, taking great pride in her status as the daughter of a shaheed, a war martyr, using this knowledge as both a badge of honor as well as a convenient excuse for bad behavior when she finds herself facing discipline at school. Sara’s identity depends on a past that precedes her birth, and when, eventually, doubt is cast on that narrative, she reacts swiftly and angrily.  

But this very revelation, the exposure of lies devised as protection for both daughter and mother, brings with it a new and perhaps more powerful narrative of the past, one that grants the mother the overdue credit of a survivor—credit she has long denied herself—and that grants the daughter perhaps, in a curious way, an even more exalted status. For she can now take pride not in the vague tales of a long-lost heroic father, but in the everyday reality of being the strong, blossoming, fierce daughter of a living, breathing—and ultimately heroic—mother, a survivor of war and its depravities, a woman whose strength is all the more admirable and dignified for the fact that it endures.  

Both women have seen their lives turned inside out not so much by tragedy as by the deceptions used to conceal that tragedy. And when a bit of truth manages to break through those barriers, they find themselves at long last on the road to recovery.  

GRBAVICA: THE LAND OF MY DREAMS 

Written and directed by Jasmila Zbanic. Starring Mirjana Karanovic and Luna Mijovic. 90 minutes. Not Rated. Playing at Shattuck Cinemas.