When I was asked by Serb filmmaker and colleague Slobodan Sijan if I would be interested in moderating a panel discussion at FEST 2009, I accepted without hesitation. After all, Belgrade is one of Europe’s great film cities, and I’m not the only journalist who likes to hang out here.

Then, when he said that the topic would be “SEE Women Film Directors” – namely, Women Filmmakers from South East Europe – it interested me all the more. For even though there may not yet be an authentic film wave in this corner of Europe to write about, something like a loosely connected movement is clearly visible on the horizon.

When I asked Slobodan how he had hit upon the idea, he cited the enthusiastic response given at FEST 2008 for Macedonian woman film director Teona Strugar Mitevska’s Jas sum od Titov Veles (I Am from Titov Veles) (Macedonia/Slovenia/Belgium/France, 2007), the tragic story of three sisters stranded in a run-down, once prosperous Macedonian factory town named for Marshall Tito.

Previously awarded the Special Jury Prize at the 2007 Sarajevo Film Festival, I Am from Titov Veles went on from there to win an armful of international citations, including the Best Actress Award to Labina Mitevska at the Lecce Festival of European Cinema. All the more significant, for in the role of the mute Afrodita she has to carry the film with nary a word of spoken dialogue.

Labina Mitevska, Teona’s sister, was already a household European name before she produced and acted in I Am from Titov Veles. As 18, she played the young Albanian Zamira in Milcho Manchevski’s Pred dozdot (Before the Rain) (Macedonia/France/UK, 1994), a war chronicle set in Macedonia that drew the world’s attention to the Balkan conflicts when it was awarded the Golden Lion at Venice.

Later, Michael Winterbottom cast Labina Mitevska for a supportive role in Welcome to Sarajevo (UK, 2000). And she received a Czech Lion Nomination for Best Supporting Actress for her role of a loony Macedonian barkeeper in David Ondricek’s Samotari (Loners) (Czech Republic, 2000). But of her 17 film roles to date, she was particularly a standout in the independent Macedonian production Kako ubiv svetec (How I Killed a Saint) (Macedonia/Slovenia/France, 2004), a Sisters and Brother Mitevski Production directed by Teona Struga Mitevska.

Nominated for a Tiger Award at the Rotterdam Film Festival and recipient of the Crossing Europe Award at Linz, How I Killed a Saint confirmed Teona Struga Mitevska as one of the leading women filmmakers in South East Europe. The writer-director studied painting and graphic design in Skopje before enrolling in film courses at the Tisch School of Arts at New York University.

To some degree, How I Killed a Saint is autobiographical. “I originally had the idea for the film when I returned home after living several years in the United States,” she said in an interview. “I remember arriving at the Skopje airport and being surrounded by young military personnel with expressions just as scared and bewildered as mine. Then came the ride to a grey, gloomy Skopje surrounded by beautiful mountains. This is what I tried to capture at the beginning of How I Killed a Saint.”

And she added: “There is nothing more devastating than returning home, to the place you grew up, and finding war and destruction. What does it mean to find the places of your childhood in shambles, and what does it mean to feel like a foreigner in a place where you were born?”

When How I Killed a Saint was screened at the Manaki Brothers Cinematographers festival in Bitola, where the Mitevska sisters shared compliments with Belgian cinematographer Alain Marcoen (famed for his work with the Dardenne Brothers), I was approached by a Macedonian TV reporter as to why foreign journalists – meaning myself – liked the film.

She was particularly distraught because it presented a rather negative portrait of Macedonia in 1971: NATO troops on the streets, mounting religious conflicts, flourishing blackmarket, drug gangs and mafia, to say nothing of the guns massed along the borders.

Further, the heroine of the film is returning home to reclaim her child, which can only be done by revealing the secret of who the powerful father was. In the end, she is forced to kidnap the child.

Put on the spot, I replied that I understood the concerns of cultural and religious officials in the government only too well, particularly since I was a frequent visitor to Macedonia. Fumbling for an answer, I tried to soften the negative criticism by shifting from a clear-cut answer to a reflective question.

I lamely responded: Why were the best “anti-American” films made by American directors? It’s a sure sign of the strength of a democracy. In other words, Macedonian officials need not worry about negative feelings generated by the film’s release at home when How I Killed a Saint was receiving so much positive praise abroad.

The same sort of pro-and-contra discussion happened at the Berlinale press conference for Bosnian director Jasmila Zbanic’s Grbavica (Bosnia & Herzegovina/Croatia/Austria/Germany, 2006). Known abroad as Esma’s Secret – again, another film about a heart-rending secret of the past – it was later awarded the Golden Bear, the Peace Prize, and the Ecumenical Prize at the 2006 Berlinale. Not bad for a debut feature by a young Sarajevo filmmaker.

European viewpoints, pro and contra, in regard to the ongoing conflicts in South East Europe are as plentiful as the conflicts themselves. Nevertheless, only a dunce would question the authenticity of the moving performance given by Belgrade actress Mirjana Karanovic in Grbavica. She plays a mother coming to grips with her past fate as a rape victim during the height of the Bosnian War, and this just as her teenaged daughter is beginning to ask frank questions about the real identity of her father.

A hidden secret is also at the core of Yesim Ustaoglu’s Bulutlari Beklerken (Waiting for the Clouds) (Turkey/Germany/France, 2003).

Based loosely on a novella by Greek writer Georgios Andreadis, “Tamama – The Missing Girl of Pontos” (published in 1993), Waiting for the Clouds is the third film in Yesim Ustaoglu’s trilogy on ethnic repression in modern-day Turkey – after Iz (The Trace) (1994), the story of a policeman tracing the past of an interrogator who didn’t shy from torture, and Günese yolculuk (Journey to the Sun) (Turkey/Netherlands/Germany, 1999), the story of a friendship between a Turk and a Kurd from eastern Anatolia in troubled Istanbul.

As seen through the eyes of a Turkish boy, Waiting for the Clouds reviews in fragmented form the painful deportation of Pontos Greeks from Turkey during the 1920s after the Turkish war of independence. In the film an elderly woman has effectively concealed her true Greek identity for a half-century for personal and human reasons. The truth emerges , however, when old family albums are taken from their hiding place.

Historical records confirm that hundreds of deported Greeks died during this forced expulsion. Also, that the exiled Pontos Greeks, upon reaching Greece, suffered more grief and humiliation as poverty-stricken “aliens” in a politically divided country during the interregnum period. Although detailed in Andreadis’s novel, these facts are mostly hinted at in Waiting for the Clouds.

Mitevska’s I Am from Titov Veles, Zbanic’s Grbavica, Ustaoglu’s Waiting for the Clouds – three films by women directors, each dealing with women hiding secrets for painful personal reasons, the key roles deftly interpreted by talented actresses. Taken altogether, it prompts an obvious question: Did these films benefit from a distinct woman’s perspective on the part of the director? In my opinion, yes.

This is not to say that women film directors in South East Europe may not be equally proficient when handling other social dilemmas and even intricate political themes. The opposite is just the case.

Mirjana Vukomanovic’s Tri letni dni (Three Summer Days) (Yugoslavia/Serbia, 1997), is a hardhitting portrait about despairing conditions in Belgrade of the late 1990s: mafia, corruption, prostitution, drunkenness, violence, death, and, in the background, an ever-present war. Winner of the 1997 Yugoslav National Film Prize, Three Summer Days, scripted by the prolific writer-dramatist-screenwriter Gordan Mihic, was Yugoslavia’s entry for the foreign-language Oscar.

Three Summer Days reproaches intolerance in a trio of stories about young people seeking a way out of this abyss of despair. A youth from Bosnia looks for his mother and sister in refugee camps. A part-time jobber from Croatia sinks deeper into drugs. And a young girl with a drunken father supports her family by prostituting herself.

When I asked Mirjana Vukomanovic at the Manaki Brothers Cinematographers Festival in Bitola whether things were really as bad as the film depicted, she responded: “I’ve only shown the truth – with the truth comes a measure of hope.”

Hanna A.W. Slak’s Slepa pega (Blind Spot) (Slovenia, 2002) is a powerful story about a girl’s attempt to help a friend withdraw from his addiction to heroin. Along the way, she has to confront the dealer who hates to lose a customer.

Awarded Best Director at the 2003 Sofia film festival, Blind Spot also focuses on the flood of young refugees from across Slovenia to Ljubjana, in hopes of benefiting from better economic opportunities.

"My intention was to show the struggle of a girl determined to save someone she loves.,” Hanna Slak said in an interview. “But what was to be a noble quest turns out in the film to be a painful journey, as the main character rejects any help from outside.”

Lendita Zeqiraj and Blerta Zeqiri’s Rrugedalje (Exit) (Kosovo, 2004) sparkles as a black comedy about three young men cornered in an apartment during the 1999 NATO bombing of Kosovo. Without food and cigarettes, but most of all without information of what is going on outside, they try to find a way out.

Shot in grainy black-and-white, Exit succinctly delineates the claustrophobic circumstances of stranded citizens during the bombing. An award-winning short fiction film at the 2004 Tirana film festival, followed by the award for Best Cinematography at the 2005 New York Independent Film and Video Festival, Exit was then developed into an hour-long feature film with the same title, this time shot in color.

Lendita Zeqiraj studied painting and graduated from the Faculty of Figurative Arts at the University of Pristina. Currently, she is studying cinema at University of Paris. Her sister, Blerta Zeqiri, known as a lead-singer and songwriter for a rap-band, is also currently studying cinema at the Paris University.

Some filmlands in South East Europe have a long and distinguished tradition of supporting women filmmakers.

Hungary, straddling the divide between Central East and South East Europe, can boast of Marta Meszaros (Naplo apamnak, anyamnak / Diary for My Parents, 1990), Ildiko Enyedi (Az en XX. századom / My 20th Century, 1989), Judit Elek (Ebredes / Awakening, 1995), and Livia Gyamathy (Szökés / Escape, 1997).

Just as Marta Meszaros broke new ground for feminist aesthetics in socialist cinema during the Cold War period with Orokbefogadas (Adoption) (1975, Golden Bear, Berlinale), so did Ilboya Fekete pave the way for refreshing brand of “mockumentaries” (fake documentaries) set in post-socialist Hungary with Bolshe Vita (1996) and Chico (2001).

Bulgaria, too, can be proud of the cinematic achievements of its women filmmakers. Binka Zhelyazkova’s political comedy Privarzaniyat balon (The Tied-Up Balloon) (1967), scripted by Yordan Radichkov from his novel, was banned for two decades. The fascinating story of The Tied-Up Balloon and Zhelyazkova’s troubles with the Bulgarian censors is covered with insight in Elka Nikolova’s Binka (Bulgaria, 2006), her documentary on the person and career of Binka Zhelyazkova.

A score of veteran and young woman filmmakers are heralding the current revival of Bulgarian cinema.

Ivanka Grabcheva‘s Edna kaloria nezhnost (One Calorie of Tenderness) (2003), about the family concerns of an elderly couple in today’s Sofia, marked the successful return of an oft-awarded children’s film director during the socialist era.

Zornitsa Sophia’s Mila ot Mars (Mila from Mars) (2004), awarded the Kodak Prize for Best Bulgarian Film at the 2004 Sofia film festival, introduced a painter and performance artist in her first feature film. The story of a hyper-active teenager, who escapes from a brutal drug dealer to take refuge in a no man’s land at the Greek border, Mila from Mars went on from there to win more citations.

Milena Andanova’s Maimyni prez zumaka (Monkeys in Winter) (Bulgaria/Germany, 2006) (produced by her younger sister, Nevena Andanova), an interwoven tale about the fate of three pregnant women in three different time periods (1960s, 1980s, the present), accurately mirrors the country’s social and political conditions during those times. The Andanovas are the daughters of the late Metodi Andanov, whose Kozijat rog (The Goat Horn) (1972) ranks as the greatest box office hit in the history of Bulgarian cinema.

Iglika Triffonova’s Razsledvane (Investigation) (2006), a dark detective tale about a women investigator prying into family secrets, was awarded Best Balkan Film at the Sofia film festival and the Grand Prize at the Cottbus film festival.

In conclusion, I would like to comment on the theme of “home” in key films by women directors in South East Europe.

Unless I am mistaken, the first to treat this theme in a modern-day context was Serb director Mirjana Vukomanovic in Three Summer Days (1997), the first feature film by a director of children’s films and documentaries for television. Although written by a male screenwriter, Gordan Mihic, Three Summer Days embraces the fate of the homeless in postwar Belgrade mainly from a woman’s perspective.

A young girl turns to prostitution to support her younger brother and sister. A youth from Bosnia despairingly looks for his mother and sister in refugee camps. The vulgarity of the economic crisis is personified in a corrupt “mistress” who brokes no interference in her trade. Moreover, the painful intolerance of Serbs towards Serbs is particularly felt in these women protagonists.

The theme of “home” as an entity to be defined forms the core of Montenegran director Marija Perovic’s Opet pakujemo majmune (Packing the Monkeys, Again!) (Montenegro, 2004), the title referring to the wife’s talisman collection of stuffed monkeys.

Directed by a freelance writer-critic-filmmaker, Packing the Monkeys, Again! depicts the efforts of a young couple, a journalist and his intellectual wife, to settle in at their small apartment. Clashes with the landlord and visitors, however, lead to unexpected aggravation and eventually the need to look for another apartment.

Marija Perovic highlights the absurdity of the situation. On one level, it’s insinuated that Montenegran housewives should adhere to traditional customs, although this limits choice and mobility. On another level, the situation is complicated when three different women lay claim to the same small apartment.

Macedonian director Teona Strugar Mitevska’s I Am from Titov Veles (2007), set in a decaying factory city in Macedonia (founded by Marshall Tito, now known as Veles), is the heart-rending story of three sisters who try to survive after the downfall of Tito’s socialist revolution. Although each is ill-equipped to meet the challenges of a new society, they try as individuals and as a family to find their way among lotharios, profiteers, and other intruders upon their privacy.

The theme of “home” in I Am from Titov Veles – narrated by the sister who doesn’t speak in the film (!) – reaches beyond a family tragedy. As the tale unfolds, we learn that the pollution pouring from the lead factory has left deep scars on the populace: cancer, birth deformation, premature deaths, emigration. In short, Teona Strugar Mitevska has sketched a downfall of Yugoslavia in poignant human terms.

Bosnian director Aida Begic's Snijeg (Snow) (Bosnia Herzegovina/France/Germany/Iran, 2008), awarded the Grand Prize in the International Week of the Critics at Cannes, deals with the theme of "home" at its most fundamental level. What happens in a village where all the men are missing? Worse, when the men in the family were murdered during the atrocities of ethnic cleansing?

An international coproduction with Iran included, Snow was produced and cowritten by Elma Tataragic, head of the Regional Competition program at the Sarajevo International Film Festival with entries from all the countries of South East Europe. And it should be noted that Elma Tataragic, who speaks a fluent English, had studied at the Institute for North American and European Studies at the University of Tehran. 

An autobiographical film in many respects, Snow leans on surreal elements – dreams, a storm and snowfall, hair that grows back overnight – to underscore why six women and two men (one a boy) are reluctant to leave their village until they find the remains of their loved ones. In the end, not even an offer from a government-sponsored development conman will change their minds.

Perhaps a link can be traced between Bosnian director Aida Begic’s Snow and Turkish director Yesim Ustaoglu’s Waiting for the Clouds, made five years earlier in 2003. In both films family albums support social identity rooted in a culture. Traditions are passed on, not discarded.

Of course, there are other common themes to be discussed in films by women directors of South East Europe. Political, as well as social. However, family ties appear particularly appropriate, even seminal.

For women filmmakers tend to perceive “home” as more than just a haven for comfort and protection.

It’s a way of life.