Lume, an Albanian woman living in a small Kosovar village,
is trying to come to terms with the loss
of her little daughter who perished
during the Kosovo war, while under pressure to bear a new one, in Antoneta Kastrati’s powerful debut feature film Zana.
In conversation with the director,
ahead of the screening of the film within the context of the online edition of the 26th
Sarajevo Film Festival.
Since Zana is dedicated to both your mother and your sister who perished
during the Kosovo war in 1999, is this film a tribute to them or does it also
allude to something more universal?
I think it’s both.
For sure it’s about their memory, but it’s also about
the future. This is the first bilingual project I’ve done, and has always been
in the back of my mind.
It has to do with what it actually means to lose
someone during the war and how it fundamentally changes our way of seeing life,
how it becomes something more than just grieving.
That’s why I decided to tell the story of mothers, I’m
a mother myself.
Were you already a mother once
the film was initially conceived?
I was pregnant and then became a mother.
I knew what it means to lose a family member, and also
the feeling of bringing a human being into the world. I could not fully
understand what it means to lose a child, but I could feel it in my bones.
My sister was killed in front of my mother, she saw
her death. She lived thirty minutes after that.
When you lose someone, your child, with whom you were
inter-connected, you’re not living in the same universe anymore.
Time doesn’t flow the same way, because the dead are
part of your life and you are part of theirs. They’re not gone. There’s a feeling
of timelessness, and I tried to bring that up through the character of Lume.
Lume (Adriana Matoshi) surely
doesn’t fully inhabit just one world. She seems to be in between worlds,
between the one of her traumatic experiences/memories and that of the present.
Had she also endured similar war-time experiences?
She hasn’t lost someone personally, but she deeply
understood the script and felt it. Then, of course, I had to guide her, but she
had already captured the essence of her character. As an actress, she has that
kind of power.
Has it all been clearly
scripted from the beginning, or has there also been some room for improvisation
along the way?
Things change. We had to shorten some scenes, for
example, because we didn’t have enough money, but everything was pretty much scripted,
because I had been working on it for a very long time.
Moreover, if an actor/actress has suggestions, I’m
open to change. Generally, though, 90% was scripted.
The paranormal/supernatural
element is quite dominant in your film. Does it have some cultural relevance to
rural Kosovo, where Zana is set, or
does it have more to do with the subject-matter and Lume’s mentality?
It’s both.
In rural Kosovo, when you want to get pregnant, you go
to a healer. It’s out of desperation, when there’s no choice.
There’s also of sexism and gender pressure. All the
oppression later on builds up and women don’t know how to deal with it.
To me it was interesting to deal with dreams. As far
the main character is concerned, I thought that this dreaming process could
give her a way out, to convince her that what happens is caused by someone else
and that she’s no different from the rest.
Did you grow up in a similar
location to the Peja district, where the film was shot? You seem to be very
familiar with the cultural context of such a place.
I grew up in a village, was the second youngest of six
sisters, went to school and then my younger sister also went to school, but
none of the other sisters did that.
I don’t know if there’s anything on the film that is not taken from something that’s real. I
was also interested in the rituals between women, and some rituals are dying.
Did you want to preserve them
on screen, in a fictional manner?
It’s not just about preservation, but about what they
represent, their meaning.
The snow dominating the final
scenes of Zana is spectacular, both
aesthetically and narratively. Did you conceive it as some sort of redemption?
The snow element came to a little bit later during the
writing process and it was a 100% clear that it was necessary, as a metaphor
and on a symbolic level.
For me, the ending is bittersweet and gives you the
possibility to let go of something, but then Lume’s still left with the feeling
of her daughter. Some ask me, “Why didn’t
you shoot your own story?” This is also
my story.
And I did many interviews with women who had been
through similar situations, and a great part of them is physically sick and
suffers from headaches or epilepsy. Very few of them had kids after the war. “I can’t be a mother to the new kids,”
some told me.
Have you managed to deal with or even overcome the loss of your mother
and sister or not?
I don’t know, I carry it. What you see in the film is
a diluted version of what I have personally experienced, which was actually a
lot worse.
Of course we live -it’s not about that-, but it can
happen any time.
Doesn’t it feel odd that, due
of the pandemic, the screening of your film during the 26th Sarajevo
Film Festival will take place online and you will therefore have no chance to
interact with the audience?
I was so happy to be invited by the Festival, because
I’ve attended it a couple of times and really loved and respected it a lot. It’s
one of the best festivals. So, I’m a little bit sad that I won’t have this
chance.
The world -and the world of
cinema, too- is not going to be the same, even when the pandemic eventually
subsides. How does this situation affect you, both on a human and an artistic
level?
There’s also a disappointment as far as I’m concerned,
because there was going to be a limited theatrical release of the film in the
USA, but what can you do? You have to adapt, so I’ve been trying to remain
positive. There’s no other choice.
And the future is unknown.
More info about Antoneta
Kastrati and Zana may be found in the film’s official website.
Zana will be screened within the context of the In Focus
section of the online edition of the
26th
Sarajevo Film Festival (14-21
August 2020).
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου