Traces
Mike Zweidler

Explaining one’s own work is always a bit weird, because one anticipates the possibility of someone else’s interpretation.

I’ll try to list the individual considerations that brought the film to its current form:

The idea of not having to go to Brijuni to make a film about Brijuni was at the very beginning. A place with historical significance always has a large sphere of influence, and modern media spread information fast globally. So we seem to know the whole world without ever having been everywhere.

There are many ex-Yugoslavs in Switzerland. I wanted to give someone a voice. To build a bridge and gain personal access to the island. I wanted to shine a light on these people and their story without being to much about Migration and Integration et cetera. And I was surprised. I had expected that Brijuni would have mainly positive connotations. A beautiful place, important state receptions, Tito swimming. Memories of a world that was purer before the collapse, before the war. But instead of these perfect memories, I got imperfect memories. Doubts about the official events, disappeared ancestors, a prisoner island, the red bourgeoisie, the big question of guilt, and the need to be able to forgive. People should have a fundamental right to historical reappraisal. If this does not happen, people are left to their fantasies and fears.

The other question was, what can I film on Brijuni? Although I said ‘you don’t have to go there to make a film’, I did end up there. A certain naivety got the better of me. I was fiddling with the camera and suddenly my feet were in the picture on a carpet. After a first attempt, I could imagine that the constant rhythm of walking and the different surfaces could make a good narrative thread. The absence of horizontal filming creates tension. The sound evokes an imagination. The image leaves many questions unanswered, just like the text. The fragments are put together. Sound and image and editing take you into a world that can only exist in dreams.

The editing

The big arc is that it begins in the water and ends in the water again. The ending is a direct homage to Plastic Jesus. I understood the film better after the conversation with Zorica. The song is a nesting of memories, it is the memory of the film evening with Milica Tomic, when she remembered the song Moj je život Švicarska.

The first part is really about walking through the history of the island. So many layers come together in Brijuni. I saw this as an opportunity to make a brief outline in passing. That might not have been noticed and it might be a bit flat.

I dedicated the second part more to the darkness, to the shadow. I think it shows how certain events can overshadow positive things. What groping in the dark and searching for answers can feel like.