It took just one episode of the new TV series Poziv (The Call) for Serbian viewers to remember how much they had missed Mirjana Joković, known for her outstanding roles in Stršljen (The Hornet), Kusturica’s Underground, Bure baruta (The Powder Keg), Vukovar jedna priča (Vukovar: A Story), and the television series Sivi dom (Gray Home), Zaboravljeni (The Forgotten), and Vratiće se rode (The Storks will Return). Her marvelous performances earned her multiple awards – she was named the Best International Actress at the San Sebastian International Film Festival in 1989, won the Golden Arena Award in Pula, Croatia, and was a five-time recipient of the Queen Theodora Award at the Niš Film Festival. For over thirty years, she has been living in the United States, teaching at the California Institute of the Arts (CalArts), near Los Angeles.
Never in Serbia’s recent history was the gap between the horribly poor and the shamelessly rich so deep.
In the TV series Poziv she plays a former police inspector, Anica Reljić, who works in a call center. In each of the eight episodes she wears only jeans and a sweatshirt, her facial expressions and movements invariably precise, clear, and convincing. Anica successfully switches her focus from the worries haunting her throughout the series:
“The purpose of the TV series is to bring to the fore a woman whose focus is different from the mainstream norm. Today’s woman must be beautiful, constantly justifying her actions and exposing her body and looks to enormous changes, which is not at all easy for her. I do feel sad when I see that the focus on women has been largely degraded to their optical component. The trend has reached the uncomfortable point where even young women undergo surgery to change their appearance. And all that to be prettier, more loved, better accepted. It's quite sad and problematic. That's why it's good and important that this story portrays a lineup of women with their own stories, dimensions, complicated lives, and characters. Our goal was to defend that woman, as you described her, forever in jeans and wearing a sweatshirt al the time, who doesn't feel the need to be attractive in that flashy, provocative way, but she’s rather just a person who deserves attention for who she is,” Mirjana Joković has explained.
The terror of youth still reigns, doesn’t it?
It's no longer just the terror of youth. It's now a much broader concept. We live in a world where everything is accessible to everyone, which has awakened hunger in people, in every way and in every sense. Human appetites have definitely increased, but I can already sense that room has opened up for everyone to say “no”. When there are no boundaries, it leads to satiation that inspires people to seek true values. In that search a genuine character stands out, exhibiting the ability to see through a flat-out lie and understand that everything that glitters is not gold. People, young people in particular, need to discern knowledge in a sea of information, because information is not necessarily knowledge. The abundance of information we are exposed to is part of the system of values we live by. Particularly important is the part of the ruling system that promotes the imperative to earn as much and as quickly as possible. Yet it's a measure of value, not knowledge.
You chose to move to another continent when you were at your best in every aspect – the most successful, the most beautiful, the best at everything you did. What was the reason for that?
Thank you for that, but I wasn’t the best at everything. I do believe that the most important developments in our lives have nothing to do with our actions. We like to think that we are responsible for our decisions, and that we made our choices alone. Sometimes, however, a door just opens, and we just walk through it. That's exactly what happened to me, as I had had no intention of going anywhere. My curiosity prevailed, although I was incredibly happy with what I had achieved, and grateful for the opportunity to work with brilliant people. I left to visit friends, but I also wanted to see who I was in a different environment, in another culture. You can always have a better look at yourself in a different setting.
You seem to be doing well in that different setting, pursuing an academic career. Yet you don’t seem very interesting in acting there though.
I wouldn't say that I'm not interested. You know, I started acting when I was eight, and was admitted to the Academy of Dramatic Arts at the age of 16 and a half. I had been given a role in Sivi Dom before I even entered the Academy. I didn't plan any of that; it just happened. With my first film in Argentina I ventured into international waters, and my life “expanded” so to say. But I never expected to be a global celebrity. What happened to me was just right and very nice, and it was my niche. It is very important for everyone to find that niche, and to know what is enough for them. When I came to the United States, I wanted to keep doing my job. I believe that what I do is a divine art, and I do maintain that almost poetic view of my profession. Without mystifying it, you often need to work to get a check and pay the bills, but what actors do carries enormous potential, because it has that visibility for people who can recognise themselves and their lives in what we do.
Do you think that political correctness is a desirable quality in the film industry, too?
Today, it is very difficult for an artist, or for any other person for that matter, to detect a healthy, balanced fact in the cacophony of voices and opinions, where irrelevant opinions are often heard better only because they are very loud. There is a kind of operating system imposed upon people, where what matters to a person intimately is no longer important; instead, they are integrated into a majority-operated team or game. Yet, even in such a system, and I dare say in any system, when people are challenged, they must respond to that challenge. Every challenge is an opportunity for a person to achieve something, either alone or in a team formed by affinity. Of course, it's not always possible, because an actor has to work and accept even the roles they otherwise wouldn’t, but sometimes it’s their own existence and the existence of their families at stake.
What is the difference between you, who left the country to broaden your horizons, and those who simply fled, because it was impossible for them to live here? Have you met any of them recently?
The difference is huge. Survival on the one hand, and affinity and growth on the other. Anyone who left Serbia has a different story to tell, each equally important. We tend to judge someone or criticise something based on very little information. Over the thirty years here, I have heard very different stories and very different reasons why people left. Their motives were often private and very deep, hidden behind grand political ideas. The dark war back in the 1990s earned Serbia a very bad reputation, and the Serbs were the bad guys. Quite a few took advantage of the situation in one way or another.
Like in any extreme situation, people are often prepared to exploit an event to create a personal story, and gain something from it. On the other hand, some stories were indeed incredibly difficult. People would escape something they could no longer endure, but couldn’t function in the new environment either. I think the Serbs are resourceful, clever people, sometimes obstinate. It is precisely the obstinacy that sometimes denies us opportunities for progress and growth, but it often helps us survive.That's why the Serbs would make it work here more successfully than others, perhaps, even though starting from scratch.
In November 1990, you said in an interview: “The walls are coming down across the globe, and animosities between us flourish. Something must change, but not in that most dangerous, worst way.” Things changed exactly that way though. The worst of all. Only four years after the interview, you played the upsetting role of a Croat woman married to a Serb in the film Vukovar jedna priča.
That film depicted the matter-of-factness of evil at war, how ruthless everything that happened during the war was. No one could ever win that war. War is the biggest business. Wars don't happen because neighbors get angry with each other. At the core of a war lies a frightful, expensive machinery in which people invest to get something in return. I accepted that role because it tells the story of ordinary people who do not see themselves in that hell, and only they suffer. Vukovar was a severe wound, unveiling the truth that there could be no winners in that war. Whatever the outcome, everyone would lose. When you see evil up close, as we did while filming the “Vukovar”, you can actually see how terrifying it is. And how easily a war can turn people into beasts. And we all have that inside. The evil of a war also lies in having to choose sides.
Was it difficult for you to choose a side?
No, it wasn't. I was born and raised in Yugoslavia, and considered myself a Yugoslav while Yugoslavia existed. I have close friends here who are Croats and Muslims. I am a Serb, and it wasn't difficult for me to identify as such. I only regret that we have chosen a bloody path to reach the point at which it’s no longer difficult to identify as a Serb.
