U gori raste zelen bor

V'19

U gori raste zelen bor

The Pine Tree in the Mountain

Antun Vrdoljak
YU, 1971
94min, skrOmeU

Bild: Hrvatski filmski arhiv Bild: Hrvatski filmski arhiv

U gori raste zelen bor

Antun Vrdoljak
YU, 1971
, 94min, skrOmeU

Mit: 
Boris Dvornik
Ivica Vidović
Boris Buzančić
Mate Ergović
Zvonimir Lepetić
Drehbuch: 
Antun Vrdoljak
basierend auf Motiven aus Kriegstagebüchern Ivan Šibls
Kamera: 
Frano Vodopivec
Schnitt: 
Radojka Tanhofer
Musik: 
Anđelko Klobučar

Produktion: 
Jadran Film, Zagreb
Format: 
35 mm
Farbe
Print courtesy of Hrvatski filmski arhiv

Bis auf den aus Zagreb eingetroffenen Politkommissar, der für ideologische Ordnung sorgen soll, ist in U GORI RASTE ZELEN BOR jeder Partisan ein Bauer, der sein Haus verteidigt. In einer entscheidenden Szene spricht ein Partisanenkommandant mit einem Ustascha und muss erkennen, dass auch der ein Bauer ist, genau wie er, mit einer Kuh und mit Frau und Mutter zu Hause. Nach der siegreichen Schlacht erklärt er denkwürdig: „Kein Reden mehr mit dem Feind für mich! Sobald du mit ihm sprichst, stellt sich heraus, dass er deine Familie ist.“ Eine hilflose Wut, die bis zum jugoslawischen Trauma der Nachkriegszeit reicht.

 

Antun Vrdoljak has a predilection for filming partisans through the thin cover of autumnal branches, which barely protect the troops as they emerge from hiding. Not only do these richly atmospheric shots show the precarious conditions under which the self-organized army was waging war, they also highlight their role in the landscape they are intimate with. With the exception of political commissar Ivan (Ivica Vidović), who has been shipped in from Zagreb to bring order and ideological prowess to the unit, every partisan is a peasant defending their home and family as well as fighting for the cause. In one of the pivotal moments of the film, undercover partisan commander Dikan (Boris Dvornik) speaks to an Ustasha only to find out that he is a peasant just like him, with a cow, wife, and mother back home. After the battle in which the Ustasha is killed, Dikan memorably declares: “No more talking to the enemy for me! As soon as you get to talking to them, it turns out they are your kin. I’ll stick to ‘Death to fascism, freedom to the people!’” His helpless anger packs a powerful punch, recalling the shared trauma and common ‘truth’ of the post-war period and posing an urgent question: what is our agency actually worth? In bringing together the same remarkable team he worked with on the film’s twin brother KAD ČUJEŠ ZVONA, Vrdoljak continues a painful, luminous saga of shared responsibility in what is often too painful to address.