Original subtitles

Bosnian Pot is the traditional dish of Bosnian miners.

Every miner would bring what he had.

Someone would bring carrots, another cabbage,

someone else, potatoes.

And whoever had some meat, would bring that too.

They would bury a clay pot in the ground

and then light a fire above it.

After their shift was over,

they would dig out the pot and have their meal together.

This is how the traditional dish from the Balkans was created.

The Bosnian Pot.

Oh, Sigi, welcome.

What the hell are you doing?

Taking a short nap.

- What if someone sees you? - What's the problem?

Pizza, beer, cigarettes.

I wouldn't mess around.

What is this, a police state?

I'm no police state.

Friendly advice. Don't fuck around.

The reportage isn't bad. Maybe a bit too long.

I like the miners part.

But trim down the recipes, people will fall asleep.

- Uncle Faruk! - Hi, Marko.

You got a letter. The postman almost didn't let Mom sign for it.

- How was school? - I scored two goals.

Well done, ace.

- And what about the math test? - I didn't really score.

You're doomed.

Your mother won't be happy.

Turn that down. It's throwing off my concentration.

You can concentrate all you want.

Check.

Look at this disaster.

They should all be sent back.

Sooner than later.

You wouldn't help people in need?

Me?

I drove a family to the train station. I didn't charge them a penny.

Helping is one thing. Letting them into the country is something else.

They let him in and now he wants to close the border.

I came here to work way before the war started.

Unlike you.

Turn it down, will you?

Faruk?

This came for you. From the Magistrate.

Finally.

My permit renewal.

Who the hell would renew your residence permit?

Goddamn.

STJEPO'S TAVERN

Marko asked me to go through his test.

Oh, thank you.

Hey, Ronaldo.

Focus.

Do you need anything ironed?

There's always something.

Boro is hitting on you.

How do you figure?

I'm not blind.

I got eyes.

So what if he is?

What do you care?

Will you stop him from hitting on me?

Or will you forbid me from being hit on?

Neither.

He just wants to eat for free.

To cut down on his expenses.

Why can't I cut down on my expenses?

You have no expenses.

How's the book coming along?

Great.

OFFICE FOR FOREIGNERS

Are you Mr. Sego?

Šego, Faruk.

Good day.

I'm senior official Buchsbaum. I'm handling your case.

Nice to meet you.

Religion? You left it blank.

Nothing in particular.

Okay, Muslim.

If you need to put something.

That's what we thought.

Professor of Yugoslav studies? What's that, something like Latin?

You came for your residence permit?

Of course.

Is it ready?

No.

Your residence permit renewal request can't be approved.

Here's the decision.

How?

I've submitted all the documents.

Why?

Your request arrived nine days late.

But that's never been important.

I was in Bosnia.

A death in the family.

- I've been a resident for 12 years. - Yes.

But you interrupted that residence for nine days.

Now the whole procedure starts from the beginning.

You're submitting your request for the first time and we're rejecting it.

The deadline to file a complaint is 30 days.

Why have I been rejected?

- I work at a radio station. - Yes.

Only part time. That's not enough.

We renewed your permit twice because of the war.

And you were supposedly an accomplished Bosnian artist.

Your last artistic activity was two readings

for refugee children nine years ago, sponsored by the workers' union.

I've written a book of poetry.

Published in 2002

by a small publisher who's since gone bankrupt.

To us, this is your first permit request.

Would a new book help?

It won't help me. It might help you.

Why are you so upset?

Bosnia isn't Syria or Afghanistan.

You can go back anytime you want.

Bosnian dishes are mild, just like the locals themselves.

Those who say that spices are a reflection of a people,

would not be wrong in the case of Bosnians.

If you want to make a festive Bosnian dinner,

then you'll serve Bey's Stew.

Finished already?

They've cut our number of sessions.

You should go see Sigi.

We're now implementing the Savings Package.

The Savings Package?

- What does that mean? - It means we need to save.

Do something about Our Neighbours' Traditions.

Trim it down?

No. We're cancelling it.

New management.

Neither the Serbs, Croats nor Bosnians listen to it.

Why now?

I've got some problems with the Magistrate.

I need an affidavit

that I've been active here in a literary sense.

Short stories, essays. Do you understand?

Faruk, this isn't the Balkans.

This is a regulated country.

You won't help me?

I've been helping you the whole time.

I've told you to write a radio drama and we'll air it.

- I don't have it. - Why didn't you write one?

Sigi, please.

Is it really a problem to write

that some of my texts are dramas

or short stories?

I can't sign something like that.

You really are scared shitless.

You want me to say your essays on the Bosnian Pot are literature?

- And of public interest for Austria? - Yes.

That would be quite nice.

You know what? They mean dick to the Republic of Austria.

Is that so, Siegfried?

- Since when don't you like foreigners? - No.

Is it because of the new management?

Sigi, wait!

My residence permit didn't just fall from the sky.

You know what I had to go through to get it.

So now I have to go through it too.

What are you going to do?

Uncle Faruk, can I use the cell phone?

Marko, what did I tell you about the cell phone? Marko!

What are you going to do?

I've decided to marry you.

No, really. What are you going to do?

I'll get drunk.

You still own anything in Sarajevo?

- I do. - What?

A burial plot.

And where is the Hafiz Ibrahim Effendi Čaušević?

He went to Canada. It's been seven years now, sir.

Then you can write what they're asking from me.

That I've been active and did recitals.

And children shows.

This is the first time I've seen you.

Of course, it's been nine years.

You were still in school then.

The situation is that I need an affidavit.

I've never seen you in the mosque.

I pray at home.

I can become active again if I need to.

Recite the three Surahs in Arabic.

No problem.

Now?

Are you kidding?

Do you know what you're asking me to do?

You're asking me to lie. Because to you, lying has become a habit.

This is medicine, Stjepo.

Mashallah, Mujica.

It's all organic.

Six times ten. That's 60.

Can I try some?

- How much is it? - Fifteen per bottle.

- You just gave it to him for ten. - He owns a pub.

Fifteen euros is too expensive.

Let him have it. Faruk's an artist. How's your book coming along?

- He's writing a book about our miners. - I'll take a couple of bottles.

You need to pick them up yourself.

Good evening, Miss Therese. How are you?

She's an actress.

- She manages the theatre here. - She doesn't look like an actress at all.

If you saw in her costume, you'd sure have something to see.

- Watch out. - Man, what is this?

Come on.

Well, fuck me.

Don't tell anyone. The faith forbids it.

The entire system is electric? I've never seen anything like it.

The Serbs invented it. It's time we stole something from them.

The first electric distillery in Styria.

Mujica?

Could you introduce me to the actors from the theatre here?

You have a thing for actresses?

Are you okay?

You didn't punch anyone?

I'm not a psychopath.

You didn't take the pills?

No.

Their situation is currently a little complicated.

Are they producing a play or not?

Easy, you're not the only one with a problem.

Look at him pumping. He's gonna catch a cold.

At their last opening night

he came on stage and started insulting everyone.

The actors?

Not the actors, the audience. It was in the papers.

They tend to do it here.

There's an Austrian play called

Offending the Audience.

Not this time. The play was from some far off place,

Syria or something like that. The audience wasn't reacting.

- And he just snapped. - Snapped?

He's usually a real gentleman.

An excellent director too.

When he switches on the spotlights, it looks like Disneyland.

Sure, you can tell.

A true gentleman.

- What are you dong? I'm leaving! - No, wait.

- Where are you going? - You're staring at people.

They'll think we're maniacs.

Let's go home.

- I'm not hungry. - Then don't eat.

But don't mix beer with the pills.

What did the doctor tell you?

Doctors don't cure you, they just finish you off.

Good evening.

Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Director.

Miss Therese, I'd like to introduce you

to my fellow countryman Mr. Faruk.

Faruk Šego.

He's also an artist.

A writer.

A writer?

Excuse me, if you could find some time

one of these days

for a chat...

Excuse me.

Yes?

Excuse me.

- Yes? - Can I help?

You can put those costumes into that box.

What's happening with your theatre?

You can see for yourself.

What went wrong?

The last production was not a success.

We need to stage the next one, but my partner can't work.

- Thanks for the help. - You're welcome.

- Every crisis will pass. - Let's hope so.

Look, could I ask you

to read something?

A very good play.

Fifteen years ago it was published in German.

A real post-Yugoslavian drama.

Right now we're in crisis, both financial and artistic.

Just read it, please.

Maybe it could help you

resolve your crisis.

And you'd be doing the right thing.

What do you mean?

Just read it.

WELCOME TO ORIGIO

- You do know you've read this before? - What?

Seven years ago. When we were doing Bosnia.

It wasn't political enough.

There was a genocide over there. He wrote about zombies.

- Vampires. - Whatever.

Get yourself motivated.

After all the shit you did this is the least you can do.

Or do you really want me to shut down the theatre?

If we don't stage this play, that man will be deported.

So, are we in business

or not?

THE THEATRE

This is the fifth play I've done with Manni.

He's a legend.

He does unbelievable things with light and video.

Nobody fails with him, and he's had some awful actors.

Hey, kid!

Hi, Zdenek!

And who is our new young colleague?

Zdenek, also a legend.

A pleasure. Xandra.

The pleasure is mine.

The last show was followed by a little misfortune.

Yeah, it was bad.

- But we always got paid, right? - Sure.

What's the play about?

- Vampires in Bosnia and Herzegovina. - Bosnia?

- Hi everybody. - Hi.

- Hi! - Hello.

- I'm so glad that it worked out. - Me too.

It's the eight time that Origio will present

an ethnic minority play in Graz.

But it's the first time we have the author at our rehearsal.

I am pleased to introduce to you the famous Bosnian author,

Faruk Šego.

Thank you.

Okay.

But let me say something else first.

I have to apologize to everybody.

Last time I behaved unprofessionally.

No, Manni.

You reacted like an artist, the audience was completely clueless.

Okay, but now we're turning a new page.

It's great that we have the author with us today.

May I finish with my thoughts, please?

I want to talk about something else.

About our motivation.

Why are we here? Why do we create theatre?

I keep asking myself that question.

After the last production,

I thought I had no motivation left.

But with this play, it's different.

Someone can have practical use from it.

We can help a specific human being.

So what if this juvenile play isn't perfect?

What is perfect anyway?

In this small theatre, in this small town,

we can change something.

And the art will happen, or it won't.

I think it will happen though.

It always does.

And now, the author will tell us something about the play.

What should I say?

You said it all.

We should toast.

I love you all!

For all of you, and for Austria!

A small token of appreciation for all of you. Pumpkin seed oil.

The silver medal winner at Bad Gleichenberg.

Thank you.

I've still got half a bottle left from the last play.

But thanks.

Good day.

I'm looking for Mr. Buchsbaum.

Number and the summons letter?

I've brought my review request.

You need an appointment.

You're blocking people with appointments.

A theatre will perform my play.

- These are new circumstances. - You need to have an appointment.

Complaints must be sent via mail.

Is Mr. Buchsbaum here?

Can you please take my review request?

Please, leave!

- Eat shit. - What was that?

Nothing.

I know what you said. I heard you.

My husband is from Bosnia.

So why won't you help me?

Precisely because of that.

"I'm the vampire elf

who drinks blood from the well."

"I'm a vampire elf

because grapes grow in my cave

and the fire burns."

What does this mean?

"Grapes grow in my cave

and the fire burns"?

Are these haemorrhoids?

Author?

No haemorrhoids.

A metaphor.

Can we cut the line?

Of course.

Fine. So...

Cut to the end of the page.

No more cave.

Act the metaphor out without words.

- What should I do? - I don't know.

We knew there was no money.

You wanted to be a charity.

If we don't stage the play, we can close up the theatre.

Ask your father.

Then sell the car.

Or don't pay the actors.

I won't get rich either.

Thanks for your support.

- The play is falling apart. - Wrong. We're doing well.

Above all expectations.

- It was an excellent rehearsal. - Thanks.

Cutting those lines helped me.

I thought, at the end of my monologue...

Something like this.

- That's great, huh? - Thank you.

- Still a metaphor. - Yep, a metaphor.

They think nothing of cutting out the metaphor.

As if it never existed.

- They understand nothing. - Screw the text.

Let them cut it.

Then they can't blame you later.

This director is a butcher.

Mujica, where're you from?

I used to be from Eastern Bosnia,

I'm from Austria now.

Unrestricted residence permit.

Escaped just in time before Srebrenica.

Motherfuckers.

- What about you? - I'm from Sarajevo.

The fuck do you care.

If they knew at the mosque

what we've got here...

- The fuck do you care. - You got that right!

Come, Faruk!

There's some chicken, if you don't feel like eating pork.

Crispy chicken for Faruk and the kids.

Come, it's getting cold.

Faruk!

Come on, let's have fun.

The kids are enjoying themselves.

Am I supposed to play ball?

Long may he live

Three times over

Fat may he be

Three times over...

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, dear Marko

Happy birthday to you

Here you go.

There's a slice for everyone.

Faruk!

Have some cake.

Faruk!

- Where are you going? - I'm tired of these kind of parties.

But this is a kid's birthday.

Kids are just an excuse to dance and listen to folk music.

What are you talking about? What folk music?

Just a bunch of illiterate foreign working losers.

And what the hell are you?

A deadbeat professor, a scrounging one at that!

Didn't we agree to meet at the bookshop?

I have a friend from Sarajevo. An actor.

He lives in Sweden now.

Ever since he's been there he hasn't set foot in a theatre.

He can't act.

He can't watch.

That's why I never go to bookshops.

When I look at the books, mine aren't there.

But there are no books by Bosnian writers.

Yes there are. There are.

Unfortunately.

Faruk?

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

Silver medal from Bad Gleichenberg.

This theatre...

This performance in Graz. It's outstanding.

And you are the author? What is your name again?

Šego.

Šego Faruk.

You haven't heard of Mr. Šego?

It sounds familiar, of course.

How can we help?

Our funds are extremely limited,

so if you could spare something.

We never spare anything, you know.

But if there's anything else?

We've always cooperated well with embassies.

The Turkish Embassy helped, Polish too.

That's how things are here.

I can't even pay the cleaning lady.

Maybe you could deal with copyrights.

For the translation.

And who is the translator?

Professor Mutapčić.

Mutapčić? It's so sad.

I was at his funeral.

Now that he's died,

there'll be no expenses.

No! It has to be dealt with.

No problem. My wife knows his daughter.

We'll deal with this.

If there's anything we can do,

we are here for you.

And we'll try to come to the opening night.

- It's my treat. - No, please.

When have you ever seen a woman

paying for a Bosnian's man drink?

Yeah, right.

Perhaps I should ask you for sponsorship?

I've already sponsored you.

I love your play, but you came to us.

I saw that we were both having problems.

And did you solve your problems?

I'm working on it.

And what about yours?

They're still big.

If nothing happens, we'll have to shut down the play.

- I wish you luck. - Thank you.

They were laughing, and Manni nothing.

- Not really. - Yes!

And the light is in my face.

We had to stop the play.

Here you go, 33 euros. All together or separate checks?

Separate.

- No, all together. - Okay.

- Thanks for beer. - Make it 35.

- Thank you. - Thanks.

I'm leaving you now

while in few hours

it will be dawn.

And then...

you'll all be lost.

Yep.

How did you find us?

- I saw the last one, the Turkish play. - The Silk Road?

I saw you worked well with young actors and actresses.

I got that from Pandur and early Kušej. I started with them as an extra.

Slovenians are fantastic in the theatre.

Quite frankly,

I became an actress

because of one of your plays.

Really?

Life Is a Dream?

No. My Liver, but Life Is a Dream was also great.

Fuck me, you are a theatregoer.

Better than the critics, they don't go to the theatre.

At least not to ours.

So, this way our work is secret.

Nobody knows.

Except us.

The conspirators.

- Marko! - Hello, Uncle Faruk.

- How are you? - Waiting for someone?

Who would I be waiting for?

- How's your mother? - She's angry with you.

The wouldn't accept mail for you from the postman.

Marko, come here.

Go home and do your homework.

What do you want, Faruk?

- Are you hiding behind the child? - Why would I be hiding?

Please, forgive me.

I'm sorry.

I lost it the other day.

I'll add 30 euros, all right?

And you stop asking for my mobile.

My play's been butchered, I don't attend rehearsals any more.

The show might not even happen.

- What sort of people are they? - Artists.

Listen.

The easiest thing now would be to say to hell with everything.

But you have to keep on fighting and not quit.

Do not give up, keep attending rehearsals.

You never told me you wrote plays.

Only the poems.

You were trying to make an impression.

I like your poems.

Even though you think I'm dumb.

If you're dumb, what does that make me then?

If your permit is revoked,

if the theatre doesn't come through, if everything goes wrong,

we can always get together.

Get married.

But you'd lose your single parent assistance.

- And what about alimony? - It's not that regular anyway.

I told you I'm dumb.

And how is your husband?

It's the Bosnian artist. He's here for his appeal.

It's good you've solved my appeal.

For you. Silver medal from Bad Gleichenberg.

Thanks.

Your appeal has been considered. But we couldn't reach a decision.

How come?

Please take a look at these.

The Miljacka Vampires. Nice.

We'll send someone.

Someone from your office will come to the theatre?

But it's not necessary.

Oh, yes it is.

Nothing till the premiere.

You can use this time to get a real job.

Stjepo, I translated the menu.

But, I don't get it, a Croatian restaurant,

but full of Bosnian and Serbian dishes.

Because Serbian food is the best.

No, it's because us Croats are refined like Austrians.

To them, the Balkans are exotic, so they can have it.

Excuse me, Stjepo, but a Croat from Bosnia like you

is not a Croat, but a peasant.

The bigger the peasant, the more interesting you are.

They put you in the circus and pay you well.

Check mate.

- Stjepo? - Yes?

I brought you award winning oil

from Bad Gleichenberg.

- How much do I owe you? - Nothing, my friend. My treat.

This oil and the translation.

But you can do a good deed.

You can be a sponsor

of an excellent theatre play.

This theatre of yours? What's in it for me?

My friend...

If there's no play, they'll kick me out of Austria.

Such a loss for Austria.

Here, for the oil and the menu, 30 euros. Is that okay?

No, oil and menu are my gift to you.

And your gift to me is you becoming a sponsor.

- How much money is that? - No idea.

Two, four, five hundred!

Are you nuts?

The oil and a translation are worth 30, and you want 500 euros? I'm not crazy.

Your name will be on the poster.

You paid tamburica players thousand euros for Statehood Day.

Here's 100. No more.

And leave my name off the poster.

- Oh, it's yours. - Yeah.

So soft.

Stop with the private conversations.

Let's get started!

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I'm looking for the moon, lovely girl.

Who are you?

I am your mother!

Zdenek! Radu!

I never had a mother!

Now!

It was more conservative,

old-fashioned.

But it was a very good play.

How long was it performed?

- For a long time. - How long?

Very long.

Longer than the Origio has existed.

That's for sure.

And the actors have been paid, for sure.

I suppose.

What's going on?

Nothing.

It appears you've been avoiding me.

No.

Oh, yes.

For arts, you need passion,

not a full stomach.

When he was writing Hunger,

Knut Hamsun had nothing to eat.

There's no art without passion.

It's all just fluff.

What?

Superficial fluff. It's all nice and fine.

- Without the madness, it's nothing. - I couldn't agree more.

And you have emotions, that's great.

We're doing s play from Bosnia. Emotions are everything.

- It's all about the emotions. - Here we go.

- That'll be 98. Together or separate? - Separate.

No! Together!

- Here. - Thank you.

You're welcome.

Money! Always money!

Not everything is about money.

We'll stage our play

without money.

Sure...

Flowers for the ladies?

- When you act, you give it your all! - Your all.

- We are the conspirators. - Yes.

The conspirators!

Bosnian Pot is the traditional dish of Bosnian miners.

They would bury a clay pot in the ground

and then light a fire above it.

After their shift was over...

Faruk!

Faruk!

THE JOB

There. I told you it was nice.

Hello!

Hello.

This is Faruk, my fellow countryman.

I've told you about him.

- I am Gonzo. - And I am the boss.

You're a bit late.

The pay is percentage of what you sell.

I'd rather be paid by the hour.

- That's not how we do things. - We're a small family business.

Hi, Faruk.

How are you?

Very well.

You know,

my theatre play is being staged.

Wow! Congratulations.

What about this?

There's art,

and this here is business.

I'm glad about the play.

No need to write testimonials now. You're an artist anyway.

Hi.

Almost did not find you. Quickly, we don't have time.

Sigi, please, take over.

The large are 15, mediums are 12,

and the small ones ten.

It they buy three baubles, they get ten percent off.

Was the rehearsal good?

Manni is having trouble with Xandra, but she'll be fine for the premiere.

With Xandra?

I think she's fantastic.

They're working on her monologue. She is a beginner, though.

We have to hurry, I can't leave my car here.

She is better than Aida,

and Aida was fantastic.

Thank you.

- Are they hand painted? - That...

Here's the gentleman in charge.

Thanks, Sigi.

- Did you sell anything? - Yes.

When you sell this batch, we'll bring more.

- What is this? - Home made Styrian pumpkin seed oil.

Silver medal Bad Gleichenberg.

Really? I'll take two bottles then.

Thirty.

You've just become a sponsor.

I'll send you the tickets for the premiere and you can advertise us on the radio.

I'll be glad to.

Okay.

Come, faster!

There you go.

Twenty euros. Thanks.

Ten euros.

Are you crazy, you shit?

Get out of here!

- But first give us the money. - Calm down, love.

I won't calm down.

You all should to be sent back to Turkey and Yugoslavia.

I worked seven years to get a license to sell baubles,

and here he is selling his oil, fucking oil!

This oil is work of art.

- Try it. - Go, Gonzo, the cashbox!

Get lost from my stall.

Hey!

Leave it here!

I want my percentage of the oil!

Go fuck yourself!

Gonzo?

I'm terribly sorry, Faruk.

It's not the end of the world.

And the job was shit anyway.

Here. At least I saved the money.

There it is, 28 bottles.

This is too much. You didn't take your fee.

It's for the play.

- Faruk, take the money. - No.

The show must go on.

And every cent is important.

Conspirators, right?

Without money, there's no show.

Without the show, I get deported.

Nazi shits.

Would it help if someone employs you?

I've never been employed.

I don't know anyone who would employ me.

What's so great about Austria for you?

Why stay here?

It's so boring.

Petit bourgeois. Everything is expensive. Bosnia seems much more attractive to me.

If it had a coastline, I'd go there.

It does have a coastline.

So why don't you go back?

You said it yourself. Nothing is tying you down here.

No family, no job.

There's no more war.

In Bosnia, you could be a minister.

A minister?

Of fucking what?

What I do doesn't even exist in Bosnia anymore.

- And for how long? - Not long.

Till his permit is renewed.

Weren't you doing an Afghan play?

Look, it's really not necessary.

- You need your residence permit. - Well, does he or not?

He needs it. And you, Dad, need someone for marketing.

We have so many capable Styrians.

Why should I import a Bosnian?

Fine.

Leave us alone for a minute.

There she is. My smartest daughter.

- You've made a deal? - We've made a deal.

The gentleman will not work here.

He is not a scrounge like some other people.

Cheers!

And he was brought up in the country like us.

His father grew cherries.

Grandfather.

Grandfather was growing plums.

Yes.

Except for that, the gentleman is from Bosnia.

And Bosnians were always here until...

Sarajevo.

What would a poet do in an oil plant?

Because of the residence permit.

Yes, I know everything.

You have to do your show.

How much do you need?

I don't want it like that.

Nonsense! Take it and help the man.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Grown up in the countryside?

Not me. But my grandpa.

And he was a farmer?

A miner.

Aren't you pleased?

My whole life I've wanted to be free of him.

Well, we have to finish our play.

Can you see where the fields end?

It all belongs to Dad.

You had a nice childhood here.

You bet. Playing with the pumpkins.

I hate these fields!

It's all so hard. Everything is so complicated right now.

It'll be alright.

I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.

You don't need to apologize.

- What happened? - You think I'm stupid?

How long?

What do you mean?

You're pathetic.

I saw you two kissing in the car!

She promised me the residence permit,

and then she kissed me.

Why do you even need the permit?

It hasn't helped you become a man.

It only helped you screw up your life.

You are nothing, and you've got no one.

You've got no integrity and no shame.

I'm a writer!

I don't care if you were a bus driver.

But you must be a man. And you are nothing.

An absolute nothing.

THE OPENING NIGHT

Are you satisfied?

Hurry up! The last rehearsal has almost started.

These are the woods. This is the mountain.

I await for love where there are no roads.

- And my name is Leo. - Leo is a lovely name.

But who are you?

While I'm vampire elf who drinks blood from the spring.

The vampires are those who suck my country's blood.

The premiere has to be packed.

It's important.

Otherwise, it's all been for nothing.

There could be a few unoccupied seats at our premieres.

- How many? - Well, quite a few.

THE MILJACKA VAMPIRES OPENING NIGHT, OCTOBER 16

There's no one here yet.

They'll come.

They watch all kind of crap, so they'll watch yours too.

What does the author say? What will the play be like?

No idea.

More modern than Sarajevo's version.

Although that one was pretty damn good.

Nobody saw it though.

How come?

I put my entire self in that play.

The leading lady was talented and beautiful.

We were a couple.

And right on the day of the premiere, Chetniks started shelling the city.

The play was cancelled.

All my love gone to hell.

Fuck.

And the woman?

Aida?

She fled Sarajevo and went to Egypt,

found some Sheikh there and married him.

And that was it.

Mujica, that's when art almost killed me.

Come!

Today's a big day for me too.

Plums from homeland. When I make the schnapps,

I'll give you two bottles.

Let's go!

I've never seen these people before.

Faruk brought them.

Really?

And they all paid for a ticket?

Vampires here, vampires there.

The whole world was full of vampires.

And me, full of trust in people. Young.

This is the author, Mr. Šego.

The Croatian Ambassador and the wife of the Ambassador of Montenegro.

- And this is my wife. - My pleasure.

Gordana.

Šego.

Finally Bosnia and Herzegovina has its own play in Austria.

Thanks to you.

I follow theatre, although I come from natural science.

What is your field of expertise, if I may ask?

My Miro has been a professor at the Sarajevo University of Agriculture.

Geochemistry and Land Development.

So how did you end up in diplomacy?

At the university, everybody was saying he was a born diplomat.

And his is Ms. Ermina Mutapčić,

the daughter of Prof. Mutapčić who translated your play.

My pleasure.

The pleasure is all mine, since I'm suing you,

or the actors, for playing my father's translation

without asking, let alone paying for it.

The Ambassador said his wife would ask you for the rights.

You didn't ask Ermina about the translation?

Me? And when exactly did you ask me to?

There, it's always my fault.

Come, Boro! Hurry up!

Wait, Marko.

These are the woods. This is the mountain.

I await for love where there are no roads.

And my name is Leo.

Leo is a lovely name. But who are you?

I'm a vampire elf

who drinks blood from the spring

and the fire burns.

I'm a vampire elf

because grapes grow in my cave

and the fire burns.

I'm a vampire

because I drink blood from the spring.

I'm a vampire elf

because grapes grow.

Life was a poem for those five days,

a sad, but beautiful poem.

Fulfilled was I, untouched,

innocent, free from guilt, and mature.

Your--

What have you done?

- What's wrong with you? - What's wrong?

You've ruined my play!

Let go of me! Are you insane?

Here, man.

All the electricity you need!

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

We're solving the problem, please be patient.

We'll resume as soon as we receive the green light.

Oh, here's the signal. Thanks!

- It's a disaster. - What's up?

- The mixing desk is fried. - Jesus.

- What are we going to do? - We have to stop.

Leave me alone.

Will you tell them?

I can't remember last time we were so full.

Tell them the tickets can be used tomorrow.

People, 25 years ago, my premiere was interrupted.

This exact play.

And from that moment, everything stopped for me.

You have to continue the play. For me.

No way.

Without light and effects the show sucks.

Dear audience.

There is a bigger technical issue after all.

It's impossible to continue our show today.

Your tickets are still valid, so choose some other...

I'm, sorry, but the show is over!

Theatre is not merely light, you butcher.

- What are you doing? - Theatre is also words.

My word!

This play can change something. My life.

Traitors, not conspirators!

Bravo, Faruk!

Bravo!

Ladies and gentlemen.

Please, sit down.

My name is Faruk Šego.

And I've written The Miljacka Vampires.

I'm going to be deported from Austria

if there's no premiere of this play.

Or if there is.

It doesn't matter.

I want this premiere to take place.

I want this premiere to finally take place.

Faruk Šego,

The Miljacka Vampires.

What's he doing? This is insane.

"A vampire drama

in three acts."

"Characters: Zamphir, King,

50 years old."

"Sarah, Queen, 40 years old."

"Dora, Princess, 17 years old."

"Leo the Elf,

age unknown."

"The story takes place in the woods of the oldest mountain in the world,

before the kings became werewolves."

Your Majesty,

would you care to join us?

"Act one."

"Birds chirping."

"Through the forest walks Princess Dora,

picking flowers, placing them in her basket."

"Suddenly Leo, an elf, appears in front of her."

- "These is the mountain--" - These are the woods.

I await for love

where there are no roads. And my name is Leo.

Leo is a lovely name. But who are you?

I mustn't say who I am,

but I must tell what they say beyond the second hill.

That's why I'm here.

I'm a vampire elf

who drinks blood from the spring.

I'm a vampire elf.

"Queen comes on the scene, sneaking towards the princess."

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I'm looking for the moon, lovely girl.

Many await for the moon here, but they say it's dangerous.

Who are you?

I'm your mother.

I am motherless.

"Leo reaches the king carrying the candle."

"The elf glances at the dying king and blows out the candle."

"In the darkness, we see vampires rising."

The end!

Bravo!

You should've been an actor.

- You seen Dragica? - She's here somewhere.

Dragica!

Thank you for coming.

Congratulations.

It was excellent.

There's too much in it.

You can see that the author was someone...

A kid, 30 years ago.

I'd like to meet him.

There're no vampires in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

There never were.

It would be better if you performed something

from actual Bosnian life.

Like successfully managing the refugee crisis.

Faruk?

Faruk, are you there?

Faruk?

I haven't thought of it.

That you had such big balls.

I talked with my bosses.

Nobody cares about the war in Bosnia anymore.

The main topic is now Islam, or whatever.

There may be a new program. Islam and Styria.

I'd like to bring you back on the radio.

Maybe in another life.

I thought you just started another life.

Good night, Ms. Therese. It went very well, right?

Good night.

I'll see you in 18 months.

I'll see you before then.

Come on.

Faster! Hurry!

- Look at all the pretty girls. - Should we sit here?

The last ones you'll see without headscarves.

We made it.

You got your ticket?

I told you we should leave earlier.

Not that one.

Guys, please keep it down!

Don't give me that Falco crap!