Armin

Es ist eine wichtige Reise für den 45-jährigen Ibro und seinen einzigen Sohn, den 14-jährigen Armin: Beide stammen aus einer kleinen bosnischen Stadt und sind auf dem Weg nach Zagreb, wo der Junge an einem Casting für einen deutschen Film über den Krieg teilnehmen soll. Armins Karriere als Filmstar scheint in greifbarer Nähe, da bleibt der alte Bus auf der Straße liegen. Die beiden kommen zu spät zum Casting, aber Ibro kann den Produzenten dazu überreden, Armin eine zweite Chance zu geben.

Father and son are fighting for respect. Their only problem is that they are from Bosnia. They want to escape their poverty, and the only thing they have to lose is their pride. That‘s all they have. For the rest of the world, they are simply two poor people from a devastated country. This is why they have to fight. For people in societies where you have to be tough to survive, it‘s normal not to talk much. When you have to fight for your life, your financial or social existence, it’s not the done thing to talk about feelings. It’s different in the cities, where one is protected in a way and perhaps leads something like a normal life. But if you live in the countryside and speak about your feelings, you’re considered a weak man. So it’s certainly better to keep your mouth shut. In the end, my protagonists‘ non-verbal communication is connected with their wartime experiences. (Ognjen Sviličić)