In “Quo Vadis, Aida?” Jasna Đuričić stars as a Srebrenica resident whose position as a translator at a Dutch-run UN base becomes essential when members of the Serbian army encroach on the town. Srebrenica is nominally under the protection of the UN, and while the commanders in the UN and the Republika Srpska army negotiate an illusion of a peaceful agreement, Aida and more the 30,000 refugees struggle to take shelter in the compound of an organisation that cannot protect them. Aida’s proficiency in languages is essential. Bosnian, English, Serbo-Croatian and Dutch are all spoken. Multiple scenes feature words repeated – from one language to the next and so on. Language is central. Yet, nothing in “Quo Vadis, Aida?” has as much effect as the camera illuminating the face of a woman who realises that all might be lost.
Cinema can do many things but it can all be filtered down to an image of a single face on a screen. Jasmila Žbanić (director and writer) realises that the face is the centre of human empathy. The arrival of the Serbian army would mark the massacre of thousands across 11 days, and it’s a large canvas to paint on. But, in the same way that a face can represent so much, Žbanić honours the thousands of Bosniak victims by filtering the tragedy down to one family. Aida’s. As Aida is battling the responsibilities of her job in an increasingly hostile situation, her two teenage sons and her husband are trying to find safety as the town is overwhelmed with soldiers.
8,372 men and boys were assassinated by the Army of Republika Srpska in and around Srebrenica. The event laid bare the ineffectiveness of international bodies and the inescapability of evil. And “Quo Vadis, Aida?” comes armed, but also burdened, with that knowledge. We know before the film begins that the negotiations are pointless. We know each Bosniak male on screen is potentially doomed. We also know that the horrific tragedy of events is emotionally lacerating. But Žbanić does not take any of this as a given. Yes, the subject of “Quo Vadis, Aida?” means that by design it is a film of tragedy that is almost impossible to be unmoved by. But the moments of heartache, when they come, are not because the film is using the historical events as cudgel but because Žbanić is developing this story with sharp specificity that compels us to rethink the horrors of the situation.
When the film opens, the army has already begun to approach. We meet Aida on the job moving between languages and maintaining an effortful sense of calm amidst increasingly anxious times. The compound is quickly filling up with families seeking safety. The first, of many, complications occur when Aida’s family are refused entry to save space. What begins as a slight hiccup becomes the first of a series of debilitating setbacks as Aida’s responsibilities move between the private and the public. She must navigate the incredibly tricky situations she is translating, while trying to manage her maternal role to a family of men whose lives she must now fear for.
Except for an epilogue set a few years in the future, and a brief flashback sequence, the film is confined to the last few days of the invasion. It’s the best way of approaching a story like this. Žbanić does not spend time offering us a history lesson but thrusts us into the chaos at once. Even for the rare person unlearned about the massacre, Žbanić’s direction intuitively telegraphs the clarity of the tragedy early on, and it’s the most impressive feat of “Quo Vadis, Aida?” which deliberately emphasises the inevitability of tragedy while compelling you to continue watching. Jaroslaw Kaminski’s editing is a triumph, building tension and anxiety without feeling rushed or disjointed. Stories about tragedies must toe the line between presenting atrocity without exploiting or fetishising pain. But Žbanić has no masochistic interest in debasing the lives of these people. Instead, “Quo Vadis, Aida” finds its value in the ways it eschews sentimentality – looking at the horrors with Christine A. Maier’s stark cinematography. Žbanić’s greatest ally, though, is Jasna Ðuričić as Aida. She is the film’s linchpin, building Aida’s temerity, anxiety, indecisiveness and courage into one well-modulated performance.
Ðuričić invests specific notes of intensity in Aida’s character that propel the film. I would be surprised if any performance at TIFF this year is able to rival it for sheer emotional intensity. She’s giving three performances. One as the translator, moving between English and Bosnian. The next is the private performance as mother and wife, projecting maternal instincts and comfort. The third performance –mostly silent –is built on looks, gestures and glances and is one she gives when she is alone, as she recognises things that she dares not utter, trying to hold back the inevitable. By the climax, all three performances hurtle together in ways that feel almost too painful to watch.
Aida hopefully, if foolishly, hopes that through her work with the UN she can do something but if “Quo Vadis, Aida?” is saying anything about the role of international communities during situations like this, it is that for women like Aida proximity to whiteness will not save them. In 2005, on the 10th anniversary of the massacre, Kofi Anan who was then UN Secretary General, acknowledged how the UN’s philosophy of impartiality, rules and non-violence contributed to genocide. Žbanić confronts this truth. As the film goes on, the white UN staff members insisting on rules and fairness become as scary as the encroaching members of the army as Aida, her family and the thousands of Bosniaks find themselves with no support. At every turn, Žbanić insists on challenging rather than comforting audiences.
The last scene epitomises this. There’s a scene, a few minutes earlier, that feels like a natural conclusion to the story but “Quo Vadis, Aida?” goes on longer than we expect. But Žbanić’s purpose here is beyond the confines of narrative expectations. The last roots the film in ambivalence as we consider the implications of the future for the survivors of the genocide. Even glimmers of rebuilding seem next to impossible. It’s that willingness to linger on the uncertainties that distinguish “Quo Vadis, Aida?”
“Quo Vadis, Aida?” is screening at the 2020 Toronto International Film Festival as a Contemporary World Cinema production, which was co-produced by a dozen countries.
