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Getting up at six on a Saturday is not really my idea of fun but we had to hit the road before it gets too crowded and hot. Serbia at dawn is bursting with (unused) potential. The nature is lush and beautiful.
On Zlatibor we take a break and visit Mecavnik. The village is cute although crowded and artificial. If only real people lived in villages like this one. You have to pay to get in. Not too thrilled to give money to Kusturica, but officially it’s for charity. Hope I’m not aiding and abetting war crime fugitives... 
For certain reasons we take the road less traveled and chose a route through Bosnia. It’s supposed to be fantastic, and it will be a welcome break from the usual trip via Podgorica. The roads are much worse though, we have been warned.
Munching on cookies my mother baked, we come to Visegrad. The famous bridge on the Drina still stands dominating the city and the river. It’s much more beautiful than I ever imagined it. Nature keeps getting more spectacular. Driving along the river through the Drina canyon, I simply don’t understand how come this country disintegrated so violently. How can so much aggression be stored in people who live surrounded by such fascinating beauty? Traces of the war are still visible everywhere, houses burned or scarred. People are apparently moving on. There’s regular life amid the signs of struggle. It’s strange and I feel uneasy. I hope this will work out. 
We stop at a meadow near Sutjeska and sleep a bit in a green flowery field. We are awakened by a cheerful yellow dog. Cows graze around us. The site of more battles this time from WWII the Sutjeska river provides even more breathtaking nature. The old stone monument perched on a hilltop, gray and forgotten is nevertheless powerful. Clear streams wind through a countryside reminiscent of the Lord of the Rings films.
The terrain becomes flat although we’re still high in the mountains. The surroundings look almost alien. Never been, but it reminds me of some pictures of Greenland. Bare land with shrubs for trees and a strange town of bland preassembled houses surrounding a huge power plant.
Lakes fill up the holes in this rocky terrain. Towns and villages seem lifeless and deserted.
We enter Montenegro at a remote border post. Policemen look surprised to see us/anyone, but kindly welcome us into the new state. The international road from the border looks more like a run down hiking path than a motorway. We navigate with difficulty, as the road is not wide enough for two cars to pass each other by, let alone a car and a truck (although we manage. twice), all the more difficult /scary, as on one side of the road there are sharp rocks, on the other an abyss. Fortunately there’s not much traffic. Since we left the main road in Zlatibor we only saw about a dozen cars and the two trucks (probably lost).
We pass through scary ghost towns, and further amazing backdrops, and as it starts to darken, we reach the mountain tops above Boka Kotorska. The view of the bay is spectacular, the road even more scary. We look with envy at the new modern road still under construction and begin our descent towards the sea
Arriving at our final destination, exhausted and happy to be alive, thrilled with the fantastic and horrifying journey, we pass out and sleep like babies. 
Hastily I’m constructing this post on the lap-top sitting under a lemon tree in the garden, trying to squeeze an impressive one day journey through three countries and some of the most incredible and diverse nature I’ve ever seen into a short text. Next time we’ll have to bring camping gear and take time to explore.
When I’ll be able to post is a big question. I’m not in a hurry to go into town.
As for Montenegro, it’s still the same. Nobody really talks about the referendum, but I sense my friends are divided about its outcome. I congratulate those who approve; I try to persuade others that it will be ok. I think it will be. They will be fine.
What certainly hasn’t changed is how beautiful everything is. We lie in the sun all day. The sea is refreshing, perhaps a little cold. In the evening the wind blows and it’s pleasantly cool. I can never sleep so well in Belgrade. I really needed this.
Now that twists of Balkan politics have turned me into an international real-estate owner, I’m off to my Adriatic summerhouse on holiday. It will be my first trip to Montenegro since independence.
I’m interesting in hearing what my former compatriots and continuing friends at the seaside think about the whole thing, but even more I’m interested in swimming in the warm see, sleeping, and generally lounging about, in the sun or in the shade.
I’ll spend the summer with Ivan, my sister, a number of friends, their significant others, and even some Dutch people I’ve never met, who agreed to sleep on the living room floor. Sounds like fun.
This badly needed getaway will also be a test for Reluctant Dragon. Will I be able to post and how often with very limited internet access? Will the change of scenery bring a breath of fresh air into my blog or will the see and sun make me too lazy to even consider posting let alone write anything?
Well, we’ll see. Even if I don’t write for a while, I’ll certainly be back in August.Have fun everyone and thank you for coming.
We’ve moved back to our apartment as our friends are coming back from vacation. No need to look after the dog anymore. I feel sad. I’ve grown quite attached to the little guy. He’s a loving and loveable dog, and I’m going to miss our walks, even those half-conscious ones at 6am after a whole night partying at Exit and the uncomfortable train ride from Novi Sad.
Indoors he is calm and quiet, but outside he becomes an uncontrollable torrent of energy. His favorite past time is digging up mole holes on a nearby meadow. He can spend hours digging until he can barely walk and collapses under a shady tree.
Unfortunately a few days ago leisurely activity turned into tragedy as he caught and, in the process, killed an unfortunate mole. He proudly paraded it around, and all attempts to get the dead animal out of his mouth were in vain.
Another hobby of his is that from time to time he likes to run away and although he doesn’t wander very far, he successfully evades capture and is not fooled by offerings of food or playful coaxing.
However, everyone has a weak spot. As Ivan put it: He likes moles more than he likes freedom. He was caught while he was digging, oblivious to the world around him. Just as the mole’s, the mole hole was his undoing. I guess, what goes around, comes around. Not that going home to get fed and being killed by a digging dog are very much alike. Bad analogy.
Anyway, the point is - as long as someone’s entertained, one can get away with anything. So don’t be caught in the mole hole.
Deep…
This years Exit was more international the ever, the official language seemed to be English, and I like that a lot. More and more people from other countries are finding Serbia an interesting tourist destination, hidden from the outside for so long, lovely, friendly, cheap and weird. The internet and other media are full of affirmative though somewhat shallow stories about the aggressive dictatorship turned party land. At the forefront, Belgrade is once again full of tourists. I hope this welcome contact with the world will help promote openness and tolerance. With this in mind I wanted to share some tourist related thoughts from yesterday:
Rude
I feel, and always have, that people who don’t pay for public transportation tickets deserve to get fined. Public transportation in Belgrade is far from perfection, but it’s much better than it ever was, and I don’t think we can expect it to improve further unless we all do our part.
Yesterday, on a trolleybus, I witnessed a quarrel between a guy and girl and the ticket controller. From what I could understand, the girl, a local, had her monthly ticket, while her friend, a tourist, didn’t have a ticket of any kind.
The ticket control guy said they could either pay the “penalty ticket”, give the girl’s personal data (tourist boy didn’t have a passport) or get out and wait for the police. He was polite, for ticket control guy standards. The girl accused him of being unfair and unreasonable for daring to pick on a foreigner, who “just got here and didn’t know he should pay for the ticket”!?!?
Really?! Unless he had come from, I don’t know, a village in central Burkina Faso where there is no public transportation, or some weird country where they have state-sponsored buses, he should know you have to pay for public transport.
Eventually they unwillingly paid for the extra ticket, after first pretending they have no money and then complained about this “outrageous” incident for several stops.
Cultural differences are one thing, this is just plain rude.
Beautiful Belgrade
Is it just me?
Have you ever noticed how Belgrade/your city looks better when you’re showing it to someone from abroad? I was taking some friends from Zagreb around town, and the streets seem cleaner and wider, the buildings larger and more monumental, the parks greener. Have you noticed how you yourself feel a bit like a tourist?
Is it that we tend to take people to the most representative sites, avoiding the ugly bits? Or is it that we open up and appreciate things more when we look through the eyes of others? Perhaps it’s that the superficial view of a tourist allows us to look at the surface, disregarding all social, political, communal, infrastructural complaints that we usually have? When you don’t delve deep, you just see the lovely facades, the great views, the lively streets and tasty food.
Belgrade is beautiful.
WOW! The Pet Shop Boys!!! … and the Scissor Sisters!!
The best show on Exit! Ever! Still recovering…
But let’s start at the beginning. We spend Sunday afternoon strolling around Novi Sad, which for those who don’t know, is a beautiful place, a sort of a tasty bite-size city, which you can explore, experience and enjoy in a short time. A lot has changed since my last visit, mostly new shops and cafes, but many buildings have had facelifts too. The city looks better and much more alive. Replacing the cobblestones in Dunavska Street with stone tiles is, however, a crime against humanity. 
Surprisingly for Novi Sad, I managed to eat some terrible food, a cardboard sandwich and detergent flavored ice-cream. It was hot and humid and as we sat on the grass in Dunavski park, I was feeling quite cranky and dark clouds were starting to loom. Literally. We decided to disregard the impending tropical rain storm and have a great time.
After a couple of drinks sitting on the banks of the frothy Danube, and looking at lightning tear through the gray sky above the fortress, a bit tipsy and in much better humor, we made our way across the river in the fleeting rain, past entrepreneurial people selling over-priced garbage bags as first-aid against the weather.
On a short tour of the fort, we wandered past half empty stages, as everyone was in the open-air cinema watching the world cup final. The skies had cleared as we got to the main stage, where Chicks on Speed had already started. They’re great fun, crazy, kitschy and humorous and we danced our way to the very front rows.
Then … the Pet Shop Boys - the first truly spectacular concert in the history of Exit festival - a simple modular set, which through lighting and projections changes from the lacy curtains of Suburbia to a marching ground for queer soldiers and a sky full of pink fighter planes; amazing dancers with great choreography; witty, sarcastic costumes; political references and ultimate pop music! 
Even before they got on stage we were all screaming like teenage girls on Mtv. (I must admit I feel a bit ashamed). Some songs from the new album, and a collection of hits from throughout their career, ending with collective hysteria to It’s a Sin and Go west.
My throat and neck were hurting from screaming and straining, my legs sore from jumping and dancing, but I was utterly happy.
And then, the Scissor Sister put on another amazing show, energetic and wild. The singer, a disco version of Jack from Will & Grace, has a wonderful voice and dances insanely. With the last atoms of strength we danced some more, not believing it was physically possible.
All in all, it was a wonderfully gay night, in every sense of the word. Aching and tired, but ecstatically happy, we headed to the train station, gobbled up some delicious fruit tarts on the way and fell asleep in the uncomfortable plastic seats.
Exit 2006 was a huge success. Keep up the good work, people!
P.S. Sorry for the poor quality of the photos, I have a crappy camera
We didn’t get to experience much of the festival atmosphere on the first day of Exit. Arriving to Novi Sad at 8, there was no time to lounge about, so we joined the streams of people flowing down city streets, across the bridge and onto the fortress.
Everything went like clockwork, and somewhat mechanically as we made our way past ticket control and police, got some drinks and arrived to the main stage, where the Cardigans appeared at 15 to 9, right according to schedule.
This seems to have surprised a lot of people, as it wasn’t too crowded in front of the main stage. In the past years Exit has become progressively more accurate. In the first few years, you could never tell who was playing where, and when.
The Cardigans were lovely. There was a friendly sing-along atmosphere as they played all their hits and some new songs. Some hard-core fans were there, screaming “we love you, Nina”, as she started playing her mouth-accordion. It was nice to hear Love Fool, and after some screaming and roaring, there was an encore, and they played Favorite Game, which is my personal favorite.
During the half an hour break after the concert we decided not to move, to keep our good spot close to the stage, and it was becoming increasingly crowded. Getting to the bar and back in these conditions is an impossible task, especially with a glass of beer, so pouring beer into a water bottle is a smart thing to do.
Franz Ferdinand appeared with a bang, and from the first moment the crowd went wild. For me, at first, it didn’t feel too right, the music was great, but the vocals were a bit weak, and there was a lot of pushing and shoving as drunken kids started to throw themselves around.
But very soon it got much better. You could feel the positive energy (and the heat) rising from the people, and on stage FF gave it their best, so we jumped and screamed without stopping. With every song a hit and an ecstatic crowd, some obligatory phrases in Serbian, a historic act of reconciliation with dedicating a song to Gavrilo Princip, and some frantic drumming in the end, the concert was a huge success. The spectacular fireworks that followed seemed very much in place.
Having learned nothing from previous years, at 1, I insisted that we head to the train station immediately, as I hoped there would be a way of getting back to Belgrade before morning. Off course we ended up sleeping on a bench waiting for the first train at 3 am. Serbian railways leave much to be desired, but arriving to the unfinished but already decrepit future Belgrade Central station, I was just too happy to be home.
Today I hope to get to Novi Sad and Exit a bit earlier. I don’t think the experience is complete without walking through town, or having lunch on the grass in Dunavski park. I want to check out the other stages as well. At least, now we know the train schedule, there is no need to rush. I’m sorry I missed Morrissey on Friday, but I’m sure tonight will be wonderful too.
I’m heading to Novi Sad today for the first day of Exit. I’ll also be back there for the closing night of the festival. Tonight I’ll be listening to the Cardigans and screaming to Franz Ferdinand! I have a feeling this time a Franz Ferdinand will fare better among the Serbs than his predecessor. On Sunday, I expect a pop extravaganza with the Chicks on Speed, Scissor Sister and the Pet Shop Boys.
Stay tuned for reports and photos…
Exeunt.
I tried hard, I read a lot, I made some improvements, took some advice.
Visitors finally started coming - not in huge numbers but steadily.
I was therefore happy to see 3 comments from anonymous people saying they rally like/love/are impressed by my blog.
But there was something suspicious. Vague and not really related to the posts, these didn’t look like comments of my blog, but of A blog.
I noticed a small link in the bottom leading to a page selling something.
Is this supposed to be advertising? Is this supposed to be effective advertising?
I will never EVER buy your product, whatever it is.
Using an automated service to send positive comments to people just to get them to click on your website is just pitiful.
Thanks for the compliments though :)
Writing about my suburban experience got me thinking about where I live now. We’ve recently moved into a new neighborhood, and immediately felt at home. It’s beautiful and alive, with the best outdoor market in Belgrade and some nice places to eat and drink at nearby.
But what I enjoy most are the little quirky details. Like the small shop I pass by on my way from work which always color-coordinates items in its window (see bad photo).
Nearby there is a stray dog that often sleeps on the roof of a car, and a while ago I saw a women parked on a corner, blowing soap bubbles out her car window.
This weekend we left our apartment in the city and went to a friend’s house to take care of her dog while she is vacationing with her family.
I very much enjoy the greenery, fresh air, and the big bathtub. I never considered myself a dog-person, but the dog is nice, friendly and well-behaved and I realized that one of the most relaxing things I’ve done in a long time was walking the dog through the forest on a cool summer Sunday afternoon. 
After that I passed out and slept for a whole 12 hours which for me is usually the first sign of being on vacation, although I’m not. Yet. I must be doing something right. I enjoy this.
I really like living in the city, and I don’t particularly enjoy the longer commute and the extra tickets I have to get for the bus, but the view of nature from the balcony, walking the dog and baby toys scattered around the house gave me a glimpse of how things might look one day in the (distant) future, and I think I won’t mind terribly when that day comes.
I’ve added some links to Reluctant Dragon. A collection of different formats with very different content, but generally an overview of things I browse through whenever I get the chance. Some inform me, some entertain me, some have inspired me, and some I wish my blog to resemble when it grows up.
I’ve been reading Belgrade Blog for some time. Their offer to exchange links was the first and very welcome, so now they share the BLOGS category with some other lovely bloggers. I just hope I can be as observant and insightful as the Desperate Serbwife.
BUILD is about something I enjoy – architecture - in the broadest sense, manmade or natural, great or small, good or bad, real or virtual. From the extremely well written BLDG blog on “architectural conjecture, urban speculation and landscape futures” to the much more down-to-earth Beobuild, a guide to actual construction in Belgrade with all its many flaws (these people are real enthusiasts, although the childish comments, obsession with size and hight instead of quality of buildings, and the occasional nationalist remarks can be quite annoying).
ARTS AND CRAFTS is a clumsily named design section covering fashion, furniture and much more…
And finally HELP! The friendly people who helped me figure out how this works.
There’s so much more that I like, so more links are sure to come.
After days of anxiety the dreaded day has finally arrived. As a 27 year old male citizen of Serbia, I no longer have any legal means to avoid army duty and today I handed in my request for civilian service. As of September I will spend nine months in the service of “the fatherland”.
Apart from my absolute lack of confidence in problem-solving capabilities of armed conflict and the belief that a conscript army is complete nonsense, I have more specific reservations about my “duty” to the state. On a practical note, I wouldn’t want to spend 6 months in unsanitary conditions, being cold and hungry and in danger of getting killed if I accidentally stumble onto a hiding place of runaway war crimes suspects. I don’t believe in either the capability or the good will of the army to entrust them with my well being. Most importantly, I don’t think I owe anything to a country which has, with active participation of this very army, systematically undermined any prospect of normal living, forcing me, and everyone else, to undergo isolation, uncertainty and even bombs. Yes, some things have changed, but I think I had enough. Even civil service is too much, but unfortunately unavoidable. Who knows, maybe I will get to do something useful for the community, but the army hasn’t for a second considered how those of us who work and support ourselves are to survive all that time without pay. Fortunately, people I work for are flexible and I think I’ll manage somehow. In august I’ll know where I’m assigned and what my duties will be. This whole business is an upsetting waste of time and energy, but it’s out of my hands so I’ll just try and go with the flow.
On my journeys through the world of troubled bloggers I found out there are people with the exact (Exact!) same problem as me. The number 32 keeps reoccurring. Not exactly the answer to life the universe and everything else, but could there be a deeper meaning to this never-changing number of visitors to a website?
In the meantime, Blogger kindly replied to another of my e-mails, telling me that actually there is no problem, and that, to cut the long story short, time heals everything.
I also found friendly good people, who share their knowledge with others and with their help I’m embarking on a quest to bring my blog the eagerly awaited readers, and satisfy my curiosity on who they could be.
My experiment with spontaneous visitation has failed miserably. It seems this requires hard work. An offensive in blog promotion - a new challenge, a new experiment, a new adventure! During the day I’ve registered my blog with several directories, so I’ll be writing and posting, updating and pinging away and see how things develop…
I’ve also become a proud user of something called a StatCounter. So far, in the few hours since I installed it, nothing has happened but I confidently expect good things.
Well, counter is ready. Who will be my first officially recorded visitor?
My almost proverbial optimism is a bit strained. Some people I know would probably try to convince me that I’m overreacting, but I just can’t help feeling as if a dark presence is looming somewhere above. I admit too, that I am nervous about other things and that in a few days I’ll feel better, but I have to express my frustration. There are bad things that we all know, have become accustomed to and live with, but at times they overcome me and I just can’t see the silver lining.
My latest surge of pessimism was sparked by a folk concert, of all things. The hundred thousand screaming fans startled me. What upset me even more is that I went out, while all this was going on, and the streets of my otherwise lively neighbourhood were deserted. Through open windows I could see the flickering lights of TV sets and heard Ceca as she poured into every single home. This is where Serbia is going. Where is everybody else?
The show, pompously announced as a grand spectacle, was in fact a bland recital where the singer in badly tailored haute couture clumsily paced left and right. But for people who do not know better it may have been a spectacle. And people still don’t know better. What’s worse, these people vote.
I can’t tell people what to listen to and who to vote for, it’s none of my business, but we can’t pretend that this is a proper democracy and that every choice is equally valid. Real music and musicians are not the same as the soundtrack of chaos and war in the 90s, criminals and war criminals. People who participated in, supported or instigated crime and conflict can not be seen as legitimate politicians. This weekend’s spectacle of silicone and cellulite is a picture of our past but could very well be the future.
Is it any wonder, then, that the radicals will almost certainly win the next elections? In the meantime, feeble attempts are being made to unite the “democratic block” against the radical threat. What democratic block? DSS are exactly the same as radicals, but afraid to say it in order not to lose even the small remaining following of people who are ashamed to admit to themselves that they are fascists too, so they cling to this symbolic “democratic” prefix. The democrats, on the other hand, have become slow and lazy after Djindjic was killed, trying so hard to be moderate and mainstream and appeal to the common people that in the process they have lost everything that had made them unique and appealing. The other so called “democratic” parties are not even worth mentioning as they are small and only exist to provide necessary votes for forming coalition governments, taking on new ideologies every time. LDP, GSS and their friends are the only ones with worthwhile programs and clear vision of a European future, but they are loathed by almost everyone and it will be years before they become a significant force in this country, if ever.
I also begin to change my views on Montenegro’s independence. I do still think that we could have had a better future together, but only if both sides are willing to work on it. And there is definitely no will in Serbia to resolve any important issues. Serbia is stuck, and if Montenegro is willing to work just that little extra bit harder they might actually see better days.
I only hope all my personal plans work out. Hopefully in a little over a year I’ll no longer be here and I’ll be able to criticise another part of the world, probably without getting too emotionally attached.
Free food and drink is everywhere. Opening nights, exhibitions, receptions… Having a friend who is flirting with a bartender also helps.
Last weekend was rather eventful in that sense, as if to celebrate the previous work week – the first week of regular blogging :)
It started with Friday’s performance of Macbeth by the Stockholm Dramaten theatre in the National theatre. The three hours of not too spectacular Shakespeare in Swedish, with some great performances, interesting dramatic solutions and amazing set design and lighting were followed by a champagne party at the excessively gilded upstairs lobby of the theatre.
Then it was off to a bar, where Ivan and I enjoyed our complementary cocktails as our friend was attempting to overcome her hesitation over becoming the other woman and finally hook up with the boy of her dreams.
Saturday’s rainy afternoon was the setting for a reception at an undisclosed western power’s embassy. More then eager waiters insisted that you help yourself to the gorgeous food, every time they walk buy. Not a problem, especially when you’re in canapé heaven. More drinking.
The night ended at a friends birthday party, again drinking too much, dancing and kissing and making a fool of oneself. Lots of fun!
Off course, in a sense, everything comes with a price. Sunday was a blur of hung-over couch-potatoing, and football watching, which admittedly, apart from the fading headache, is not that bad.
The best things in life are free.
I’m not sure about the rest of the world, but in Serbia it is considered good luck if a bird shits on you. Such an omen of luck just happened to me as I was coming back from my lunch break. It wasn’t even under a tree, but in the middle of the street. A bird in flight simply dropped its lunch on my shoulder. I didn’t feel particularly lucky. It’s just annoying, if anything.
Personally, I am more inclined to view shit raining from above as a sign of misfortune, especially in this age of bird flu, but then, who am I to argue with superstition.
I wonder, though, what this is based on. Is it supposed to represent some sort of karmic equilibrium - that something good will now happen to you as compensation for being shat upon from the heavens? Perhaps it’s about probability? The chance of a piece of bird feces finding you of all people as it falls, randomly dropped by an indifferent bird and shifted by winds might indicate that you are somehow special? Most likely it is an idea conceived by people to comfort themselves after their favorite shirt was ruined by pigeon poop.
Maybe I am lucky. Good fortune didn’t leave a stain. 
Could this be the luckiest town on Earth? taken in Venice, Nov 2005
In what might just become a series of articles, but is already a source of much frustration, I continue to wine about blogging. Last time I wrote about my writing troubles and the pulsating cursor at the end (strictly geographically) of an unfinished sentence which haunts my dreams at night.
I also complained about the lack of audience and its participation.
I’ll stay with this general subject for a while, but approach it from a slightly more technical aspect. I no longer have the instrument of measuring the lack of visitors to my blog. The counter in my Profile telling me how many people have read it, broke down, depriving me of even this modest and very vague but vital piece of statistics. At one point it simply stopped. At 32. I know what one might think - people just stopped coming. No. I had various people visit my page several times, just to make sure it’s broken. And it is.
Off course, I looked for help in all FAQ sections which referred me to support groups who referred me to Blogger help, who in turn referred me back to the FAQs…
Well, I guess I’m off for another round.
To be continued. (in)Definitely…
If it could only stop raining! I’ve been waiting so long for sun and the summer, and now it’s cold and it has been raining constantly for days. Will this ever end? Heating in June?!?! It’s just wrong. I want to sleep with windows open. I want to be woken up by sunlight. I want heat!
Blasphemous as I am, I used the evilest day in history to go and see the anathemised religious pulp-fiction block-buster, as I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. I mean, even if Jesus had a wife and kids, and it ever came out, I didn’t really understand why it would “devastate the foundations of mankind”. It’s not as if Christianity opposes marriage. Anyway, how would anyone be able to prove it? Based on hidden symbols? If you are looking for symbols, chances are you will find them. If one tried, one could probably find evidence that Jesus had a twin brother, who was actually the one married to Mary Magdalene, and crucified by mistake, so that when Jesus appeared, everyone thought he resurrected…
But details of the theory (any theory) are irrelevant. After actually seeing the film, which is, by the way, flat, badly constructed and visually unappealing, I realized that it’s not the story of this mediocre film/book that presents a problem. It is the basic principle of having theories, in the first place. The Christian church (in all its forms) is founded on a version of alleged events many many years ago - events which can themselves never be checked or verified. If you allow someone to dispute a part of this story, the whole story is in jeopardy. Whether someone is the direct descendent of JC or not, isn’t important. (It could never be proven, as there are no remains, and even if there were, how could you prove they really belong to Jesus, or his wife? Anyway, by now, he would have thousands of descendents all over the world, not one single heir.)
Therefore, what the fuss WAS about, is that regardless of whether Jesus existed, and whether he was the son of god, everything that happened after him was the work of men. So theories, such as the one in the film, do not necessarily question divinity of Jesus but the divinity of the church. The film reminds us that at certain points in history the church selected which scriptures to accept or reject, designing a mythology which suits its purposes. The church is a dogmatic structure within which thinking itself is a problem - the right to re-examine. It also reminded us that the church is, among other things, a powerful interest group, a political force, a financial giant, and as such uses any means to protect itself and its various interests, at the expense of anyone who stands in the way, with no more moral justification than others who do the same. So while I don’t believe in any of this anyway, and think this film is quite weak and most probably full of historical inaccuracies and deliberate misinterpretations, I kind of like the underlying tone of separating faith and religion and seriously questioning the other.
On this symbolic date, when the world could, I’m told, come to an end, a short story about one of the better films I’ve seen in a while and things which pose an actual threat to our society.
I expected V to be entertaining, as it was, but the serious and mature outlook was quite unexpected … and very welcome. The film elevates itself far above the typical black-white Hollywood action films. I guess the strong critical references to western societies could shake up a lot of people, primarily in the US, where many of the issues the film deals with are controversial or even taboo. There is a tendency in the world to be superficial and people, especially many Americans, tend to be too touchy about certain subjects and less wiling to discuss them.
But the film is wonderfully universal in condemning oppression in all societies – from obvious references to fascist states to Western democracies struggling with issues of privacy and human rights under threat from conservative governments on one side and dangers like terrorism on the other. More close to home, it is reminiscent of Serbia in the 90s – the sugarcoated TV reporting, the propaganda machine spreading fear and mistrust, the divide-and-conquer tactics of maintaining power by creating enemies everywhere. Consequences of this period are still painfully present and as destructive as ever.
I see this film is a warning that all our actions, or lack there of, have consequences, that as in the famous poem by M. Niemoeler what happens to others eventually reaches us and in the end there might be “no one left to speak out”, if we do not speak out against injustice. If the likes of DSS, the orthodox church, and other conservatives in Serbia and elsewhere had their way I can easily imagine Ivan and I being dragged out of our bed in the middle of the night and disappearing. I have always been an optimist and hope the world will come to its senses, but with so much human stupidity I have to be worried about the future. Wasting of resources, greed, double standards and false morality are pushing people into ignorance, fear and hate. That makes the warning more powerful and important. This does not just happen in distant countries in a distant time. The film shows what our own societies could mutate into. And in a globalized world, there is no standing aside. A Faithless song says “Whether long range weapon or suicide bomb, wicked mind is a weapon of mass destruction … we need to find courage, overcome, inaction is a weapon of mass destruction”.The key issue is individual responsibility. I’m not happy quoting politicians, but as the assassinated PM of Serbia said, paraphrasing JFK: “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for yourself“. Nobody is going to help us if we do not help ourselves. And responsibility never ends. In a country where the power of people and its ability to push change was so evident, we must not forget it now, as we slide into conservativism and bigotry. “Remember, remember, the fifth of O… November”. Staying silent must not be an option.
