Sreten Asanović, Nomina, Plima, Ulcinj, 2011
By: Ivana Ančić
English version will be available soon.
Tanja Mravak: We Have to Talk, (Algoritam, Zagreb, 2010)
By: Leda Sutlović
Fragments of intimate, everyday situations set in Dalmatia are the topic of Tanja Mravak’s first collection of short stories. There are fifteen, not twenty stories, as mentioned in the blurb, offering personal perspective on couples who are stuck with the same routine, leading boring and predictable lives. Some of the couples are young, decent and educated, others are middle-aged, living with their children and parents under one roof; there are couples who are poor and unemployed, adulterers, couples who can barely stand each other…
What all of them have in common is a certain level of coziness in their relationship, when communication becomes obsolete – it is a point in a relationship when they are neither good nor bad, and could be referred to as keeping afloat. The atmosphere lends itself to a static feeling of helplessness, but also inertia and a lack of will to take any steps that would improve the situation. Passivity that dominates almost all the stories, is partly rooted in the local mentality, but also results from difficult circumstances.
Sloths and martyrs
The author obviously knows local habits and circumstances very well, putting layer onto layer, slowly shaping an image of a Dalmatian town, story after story. The frame is a traditionally patriarchal one, with certain demands put in front of the women, but also men. Perceived as incredibly hardworking, Dalmatian women in these stories are exactly like that – they are the ones in charge around the house, while the men usually lie on the couch. Male sloth in some of the stories is a source of humour, in other ones it usually causes conflict. An exception is a young man in “Like a Sunday Morning”, who moves silently around the apartment, not wanting to wake up his cranky girlfriend.
In “Bananas are Important”, a husband ends up in the hospital, and his wife finally finds the time to go out with her girlfriends, because her husband does not allow her to go out. The newly found freedom makes her realize she is better off without him, and she starts thinking about making a lot of changes, from the way she dresses to home decor and taking care of the household. At the same time, she makes regular visits to the hospital with a bunch of groceries that he orders, so that she could please her husband who is still keeping her on a tight leash, although they are far away and he is injured. The outline of the conversation between her, the husband, their son and other patients is: lying in the hospital – cabbage – cookies, all of which becomes comical after a while. While trying to be a good wife and fulfill her duties as quickly as possible in order to go out and enjoy her new freedom, she just brings whatever she can find, which gives him an excuse to split hairs and ask for what she did not bring, because he sees that he is getting the conveyor-belt treatment. By playing the part of the good wife just to keep up appearances, we see how contradictory her character is, who is still an extremely positive one, told from the son’s point of view as a small monument of love between mother and son.
Modesty and sacrifice in the name of the family become very bitter in “Dark Chocolate”, a story that examines a marriage between a check-out lady and her husband. As an apology from a customer, she receives a very special and expensive box of chocolates, all nicely wrapped, which leaves her dumbfounded. While figuring out the “final solution” for the chocolate, she acts like a murderer who is covering her tracks, reluctantly deciding to eat it so that no one would even know it ever existed. On the one hand, the box of chocolates would trigger a lot of suspicious questions from the husband and her mother-in-law, on the other hand, it is a sinful pleasure that she thinks is unworthy of her. The dilemma ends when her husband grabs the chocolate, half-asleep, and eats it. Although it could incriminate her for a lot of things, including adultery, the chocolate represent her modesty and tameness, putting her husband and kids on a pedestal, while putting herself last, not allowing herself even the smallest pleasure. The end of the story is told in very short, thriller-like sentences, and finding a reason to be happy – the fact she was not the one who ate the chocolate, but her husband, who was half-asleep and unconscious – affects the reader and easily takes away the prize as the most heart-breaking story in the book.
Happiness in a cell
Unemployment and poverty, accompanied by cultural erosion, is represented by youngsters who listen to turbo folk music and save a big f-you for their parents and teachers. This is the context from the story “Ticket”, where an unemployed man is stuck to his couch and cannot write a decent job application because he is half-literate. Meanwhile, his wife, who is a teacher and the breadwinner, falsifies bus tickets and curses the unlucky stars that matched her with a man like that. The tension is intensifeid by their teenage daughter, always blasting off turbo folk music, and in accordance with the esthetic requirements of the genre, dresses too slutty for her age. Trying to write job applications, falsifying tickets and getting ready to go out are all reasons to fight and cry. From one minute to the next, the situation escalates, and is about to explode, only to be saved by the only thing that goes well that day, and that is a successful forgery of a bus ticket. That small success restores the family balance and gives hope that at least something will end well. This is a very skillful depiction of a difficult existential situation, with characters unable to find their way out, locked inside their tiny world.
The expression we have to talk usually refers to that scary moment, when all masks fall down, everyone lays down their weapons because the truth is about to come out and problems will be discussed. This is not the case here. The protagonists banter more than they talk: they speak without listening to each other, arguing about unimportant things, not about the real issues at hand. This fits the cultural background, for the purpose of maintaining the status quo the characters only engage in an imitation of conversation, which becomes self-gratuitous, a means of venting out all the frustration and resentment.
Sreten Asanović, Nomina, Plima, Ulcinj, 2011
By: Ivana Ančić
English version will be available soon.
OSMI I SEDMI PUTNIK, Aleksandar Bjelogrlić, Citadela, Agora, Zrenjanin, 201
By: Dalibor Plečić
English version will be available soon.
Stjepan Gulin, Paz’te sad, paz’te sad (Meandarmedia, Zagreb, 2011.)
Authors: Ivana Ančić
Igor Marojević, Kroz glavu (Dosije, Beograd, 2012.)
Author: Dalibor Plečić
Damir Miloš, Pisa. Povratak (Meandarmedia, Zagreb, 2011.)
Author: Morena Livaković
POLITIČKE I DRUŠTVENE KONSTRUKCIJE IDENTITETA U VIDEO-PERFORMANSIMA NA BEOGRADSKOJ SCENI 1970-ih
Esej Vladimira Bjeličića
Esej u celini možete pročitati na portalu SEEcult.org
Esej Tihane Bertek
Od promatrača do sudionika
GALERIJA KAPELICA I POST-JUGOSLAVENSKI BODY ART (1995–2010)
Esej – Bojan Krištofić
Esej o radovima Šejle Kamerić, Maje Bajević i Nebojše Šerića Shobe
Piše: Slađana Golijanin
ESEJ – Razvaline socijalizma kao inspiracija za muzejske eksponate Mrđana Bajića i skulpturalne dosetke Ivana Fijolića
By: Milena Milojević
Piše: Nino Kovačić
Gostujuća izvedba šibenskog HNK, Pir malograđana, prema tekstu mladog Bertolda Brechta (napisan 1919.) izvedena je po sljedećoj formuli: na Danima satire u satiričkom kazalištu Kerempuh gledamo satiričan komad. Prema reakcijama publike, bila je uspješna, ali teško se oteti dojmu da je smijeh bio formulaično zagarantiran, jer bi takav instruirani moment humora trebao zauzdati spontani smijeh. Je li se možda radilo o “malograđanskom” humoru?
Glumice i to, KNAP, Zagreb, premijera 12.5.2012.
Piše: Nino Kovačić
Glumice i to, nova predstava u zagrebačkom KNAP-u, neobičan su kazališni ‘slučaj’. Naime, predstavu su, dramaturški i režijski osmislile te, naravno, glumački ostvarile četiri mlade glumice. U trenutačnoj opće-društvenoj, pa tako i kazališnoj situaciji, kojom prijete olovni pojmovi poput recesije, prekarijata i outsourcinga (nedavno su najavljena i otpuštanja “hladnopogonskih” glumaca), one su, kako piše u najavi “nezaposlene i pune entuzijazma, odlučile su preuzeti stvar u svoje ruke i napraviti hit!”. Očito sklone postdramskom pristupu izvedbi koji se, između ostalog, bazira na ekipnoj work-in-progress metodi, izvedbenoj anti-iluziji i autoreferencijalnosti, glumice/autorice su se “trgnule” i napravile parodiju o tome kako rade predstavu, po ironičnom ključu: kad ne ide pravljenje predstave treba napraviti predstavu o tome kako se ne može raditi predstava.
“Nije život biciklo”, Biljana Srbljanović, režija: Anselm Veber, Produkcija: Šaušpilhaus Bohum, Nemačka; Sterijino pozorje 2012, selekcija Nacionalne drame i pozorišta
By: Tamara Baračkov
English version will be available soon.
„Grebanje, ili kako se ubila moja baka“, Tanja Šljivar, režija: Selma Spahić, Bosansko narodno pozorište Zenica/Bitef teatar-Hartefakt (Beograd), premijera: 7. septembar 2012. (Zenica), 11. oktobar 2012. (Beograd)
By: Tamara Baračkov
English version will be available soon.
„Sluga dvaju gospodara“, Karlo Goldoni, režija: Boris Liješević, Grad teatar Budva/Srpsko narodno pozorište Novi Sad/Narodno pozorište „Toša Jovanović“ Zrenjanin, premijera: 27. jul 2012.
By: Tamara Baračkov
English version will be available soon.