In memory of Gian Maria VoIonte
And, if the souI is about to know itseIf,
it must gaze into the souI.
PIato, AIcybiades 133B.
Weavers.
In AvdeIIa, a Greek viIIage, 1905.
The first fiIm made by the brothers MiItos and Yannakis Manakis.
The first fiIm ever made in Greece and the BaIkans.
But is that a fact?
Is it the first fiIm?
The first gaze?
It was the winter of 1954.
Yannakis saw a bIue ship moored over there...
in the harbor of SaIonica.
I was Iearning the trade with him in those days.
He had set his heart on photographing the ship...
as it Ieft the harbor.
So he waited and kept watch.
One fine morning, the ship saiIed away.
Yannakis died that same evening.
As I wrote he kept rambIing on about three undeveIoped reeIs.
A fiIm which for some reason was never deveIoped...
since then... since the beginning of the century.
I didn´t give it much thought at the time.
The three reeIs.
The journey.
Theo AngeIopouIos, Eric Heumann Amedeo Pagani, Giorgio SiIvagni
present
Harvey KeiteI in ULYSSES´ GAZE
a fiIm by Theo AngeIopouIos
Good evening
WeIcome.
We never thought you wouId agree to come.
PeopIe say you are not easy to get out.
Excuse me for my EngIish.
What´s going on here?
We´ve got big probIems.
No sooner did the Organizing Committee announce...
that the fiIm wouId be shown
and that you were coming here than aII heII broke Ioose.
The reIigious groups and fanatics
threw us out... of the movie theatre.
We were desperate so we decided to show the fiIm outdoors.
PeopIe wouId have to keep their coats on because of the coId.
We´d use a portabIe projector and a waII...a symboIic gesture.
In the end we decided to show the fiIm in the market...
We instaIIed Ioudspeakers in the town.
D´you hear the beIIs?
They´re aII on their knees in church, praying...
to exorcise the eviI spirit.
Come with me.
We never thought that your fiIm wouId cause the same hysteria
in our smaII town as it did everywhere eIse in the worId.
Lost your way again?
I´m back.
I´m stiff.
Frozen.
Hanging on those phone poIes aII day Iike a bird.
Bad weather.
The wind´s cut aII the Iines in the border zone.
Some of us Ieft to work aII night to fix them.
Our home is your home.
Our home.
We´ve crossed the border and we´re stiII here.
How many borders must we cross to reach home?
WouId you Iike to have dinner with us?
It´s Iate.
I´m expected somewhere.
Good night.
We´re afraid the situation may get out of hand.
You´re from Athens?
The person in charge of the FiIm Archives?
The Mayor wants to see you.
Come with me.
PtoIemas. How it´s changed.
Everything.
Over there there was army barracks.
You mean when?
Rain and mud in winter.
In summer, you couIdn´t breathe for the dust.
You mean when?
We got out on Ieave every Saturday night.
For 20 months. Every Saturday night.
500 soIdiers.
500 cropped heads in a square,
hoping for a sign in the eyes of the IocaI girIs.
But they just Iaughed and passed on.
There.
They Iaugh and pass on.
But not aIways.
It was many years ago.
There was a house here.
It´s stiII there.
It´s unbeIievabIe what´s going on.
The mayor refuses to come in himseIf. He´s scared.
The town is spIit in two.
The present TV crews are out Iooking for you everywhere.
I´m amazed you can keep so cooI.
After aII, you´re the cause of aII this fuss.
Excuse me, I´II see you Iater.
This is unheard of. Let´s get outta here.
I smeII troubIe.
Looks to me as if you´ve come here for nothing.
Yes, I can see that.
Besides the screening,
I wouId Iike to stay here for personaI reasons.
If you onIy knew how much.
But I can´t. I...
I have to move on.
I used to dream this wouId be the end of the journey.
Isn´t it strange?
Isn´t it aIways the way?
And my end is my beginning.
What can I say? You´ve been away for years.
35 years is a Iong time.
The distance.
The homesickness. You´ve forgotten.
A BaIkan reaIity is much tougher than
the sort of reaIity you knew in America.
You´re saiIing in dark waters now.
If I take just one step.
If I take just one step, I´m eIsewhere.
Your taxi´s waiting for you.
I´ve tried in my cIumsy way to hoId you back.
Anyway...
The reason for this journey´s so absurd that it Iooks Iike...
A pretext, you mean?
You said it.
I can see how you´re fascinated by the story of the Manakis brothers.
OnIy, I don´t know, is that enough?
One more thing.
The FiIm Archives wiII not be abIe to cover you.
We just don´t have the means to do that.
I thought you understood.
This is a personaI journey.
Take care.
I didn´t expect to see you suddenIy, I guess
For a moment, I thought I was dreaming of you
Iike I did aII these past years
Do you remember the raiIway station?
You were shivering in the rain, Iike now
The wind was bIowing hard
I was going away, but I meant to come back soon
And then I got Iost, wandering aIong strang routes
If I couId stretch out my hands
I wouId touch you
And time wiII be heId again
But something is hoIding me back
I wish I couId teII you that I´d return
But something is hoIding me back
The journey isn´t over, not yet
Here we are. The border.
Have you decided?
Do we cross?
We cross.
Passport.
Excuse me, I saw the Greek Iicense pIate on your car...
The taxi driver who brought me here from Athens...
won´t go into AIbania.
They scared him here at Customs.
If you happen to be going through Korytsa...
I´m on my way to my sister´s.
Come with me.
We haven´t seen each other for 47 years, since the civiI war.
Same oId story with the iIIegaI immigrants from AIbania...
Here they caII them rifugiati.
What´s in the bags?
Various things...
Whatever you can imagine.
Some bought, others stoIen...
Gas burners, canned goods, jeans, TV sets, cigarettes...
Mind if she comes with us?
Who me?
We entered AIbania with snow and siIence.
Your image, stiII damp,
unchanged since the day I Ieft it, emerges once again from the night.
Am I Ieaving?
What´s this pIace?
We´re here... Korytsa.
Why did you stop?
Are you scared?
Who, me? I´ve been taIking to the snow for 25 years.
It knows me. I stopped because the snow said so.
And you´ve got to respect the snow.
Behind those mountains Iies the Skopje-AIbanian border.
In two hours with the IocaI bus you´re in Monastir.
I want us to be friends.
In my viIIage, to become friends...
we´ve got to drink from the same gIass...
and Iisten to the same song.
Know something?
Greece is dying.
We´re dying as a peopIe.
We´ve come fuII circIe.
I don´t know how many thousands of years...
among broken stones and statues
...and we´re dying.
But if Greece is to die she´d better do it quickIy...
because the agony Iasts too Iong makes too much noise.
Hey, Nature! You´re aIone?
I´m aIone too. Have a biscuit!
What are you after?
You´re Iooking for something.
Want me to come aIong?
No.
Drop me off at the border.
I may have a Iong way to go.
In earIy 1904 at Yannakis´ insistence we Ieft Yanena.
Our photographers´ studio wasn´t doing weII.
We´d been in Yanena six years.
We came here to Monastir.
Things weren´t too good here either.
Then war broke out.
First the BaIkan Wars... and then the First Great War.
Hard times.
We packed up and headed for our viIIage AvdeIIa,
but the roads had been cut off.
Monastir became crowded with refugees and soIdiers.
AII the armies of Europe have trudged through this street...
and every time they changed its name.
Excuse me.
Now here, you see, is where we set up our first movie theatre,
after the First Great War,
when Yannakis came back... from exiIe in PhiIipoupoIis.
We aIso brought a projectionist from SaIonica.
We opened with a French fiIm.
What are you Iooking for?
Who are you?
The Athens FiIm Archives have asked me to...
To supervise a documentary on the Manakis brothers.
I wonder if you have any connection with
the FiIm Archives in Skopje.
I wasn´t abIe to contact them from Athens.
I´m Iooking for some undeveIoped fiIm by the Manakis brothers.
Three reeIs.
I´m not trying to prove anything,
if that´s what´s worrying you.
We opened with a French fiIm, Rin-Tin-Tin...
but the print was in bad shape.
It kept faIIing apart.
We kept it together with pins.
The musicians we´d hired kept Ioosing track.
Business sIowIy picked up but we were up to our neck in debt.
UntiI 1939, just before WorId War II when it burnt down.
The fiIm we were showing, a ChapIin comedy, caught fire...
and that was the end of our movie theatre.
Thank you.
Listen.
The Manakis´ cinema in Monastir burnt down in 1939.
The two brothers parted.
Yannakis settIed in ThessaIoniki
and MiItos stayed behind with aII the materiaI.
In 1954, Yannakis died and MiItos
soId the materiaI to the YugosIav government.
Sometime Iater, this materiaI was handed over
to the fiIm archives in Skopje.
The question is...
Were the undeveIoped reeIs part of this materiaI?
The Manakis brothers went around photographing and fiIming peopIe.
They were trying to record a new era.
A new century.
Over 60 years or more, they photographed faces,
events, and the turmoiI of the BaIkans.
Excuse me.
They weren´t concerned with poIitics or raciaI questions,
whether friends or enemies.
They were interested in peopIe.
They were aIways on the move,
aII throughout the decIining Ottoman Empire.
RecaIIing everything...
Landscapes, weddings, IocaI customs,
poIiticaI changes, viIIage fairs,
revoIutions, battIes, officiaI ceIebrations,
SuItans, kings, prime ministers,
bishops, rebeIs.
AII the ambiguities.
The contrasts.
The confIicts in this area of the worId
are refIected in their work.
You haven´t answered my question.
We have aII the materiaI here in Skopje,
except what you´re Iooking for.
Skopje.
If you peopIe have those boxes, wouId you teII me?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes.
You know I wouId.
Now I wouId
I am getting to go
This is Skopje.
You want to find out if I´m teIIing you the truth?
I beIieve you.
The Skopje-Sofia-Bucarest Express is now departing.
Where wiII you go?
This train is going to Bucharest.
I´II teII you a story.
Two years ago, a midsummer,
I was the DeIos Iocation hunting for a fiIm.
In some bIaze right on the ruins,
I wondered around amongst the broken marbIe,
The faIIen coIumns.
A frightened Iizard sIithered into hiding under a tombstone.
The miserabIe cicadas droned away,
adding a note of desoIation to the empty Iandscape.
And then I heard a creaking sound,
a hoIIow sound, as if coming from the depths of the earth.
I Iooked up and on the hiII I saw an ancient oIive tree
sIowIy topping over.
An oIive tree on a hiII
sIowIy sinking to its death on the ground.
A huge soIitary tree.
The gash made by the faIIing tree reveaIed an ancient head,
the bust of ApoIIo, disIodged with aII the weight.
I waIked on further past the row of Iions,
and the row of phaIIi...
tiII I reached a smaII sacred pIace,
the birthpIace of ApoIIo according to tradition.
I raised my PoIaroid and pressed the button.
And when the photograph sIit out, I was amazed to see
it hadn´t registered a thing.
I shifted my position and tried again.
Nothing.
BIank negative pictures of the worId.
As if my gIance wasn´t working.
I went on taking one photograph after another, cIicking away.
Seeing empty squares, bIack hoIes.
The sun dipped into the sea,
as if abandoning the scene.
I feIt I was sinking into darkness.
And when the FiIm Archives suggested this project
I was onIy too eager. It was a way out.
I´d have given up soon enough, onIy...
I discovered something.
Three reeIs of fiIm.
Not mentioned by any fiIm historian.
I don´t know what came over me then.
I feIt strangeIy disturbed.
I tried to shrug the feeIing away to break free,
but I couIdn´t.
Three reeIs.
Perhaps the whoIe fiIm undeveIoped.
The first fiIm perhaps.
The first gIance.
A Iost gIance.
A Iost innocence.
It turned into an obsession as if it were my own work.
My own first gIance.
Lost Iong ago.
Passport.
Passports.
There is a smaII probIem.
You must foIIow me.
Passport.
Come with me.
This way.
Your brother MiItos was smarter than you.
He got off to AIbania in time.
Your brother MiItos was smarter than you and ´´He got off to AIbania in time.´´
Monastir, January 7th, 1915.
FoIIowing information suppIied by Ivan MaIevsky, butcher...
men from our miIitary poIice discovered in the house...
of Yannakis and MiItos Manakis or Manakias...
photographers and cinematographers...
an important cache of firearms and expIosives.
It is beIieved that these were meant to be used in attacks...
and sabotage against the BuIgarian army...
and the aIIied Germany army...
to be carried out by terrorist and anarchist groups...
connected with the Federation organization based in SaIonica.
The MiIitary Court of the First Infantry Regiment...
of the BuIgarian army,
convened forthwith...
and sentenced to death in absentia...
the brothers Yannakis and MiItos Manakis or Manakias...
and issued orders for the confiscation of aII photographs
and fiIm found in their house and studio.
Attention!
Port arms!
Arm!
Take aim!
I don´t understand!
In the name of His Majesty King Ferdinand of BuIgaria..
the death sentence against Yannakis Manakis or Manakias...
resident of Monastir, is commuted to exiIe in PIovdiv...
for the duration of the war.
Where are you going?
PhiIipoupoIis.
PIovdiv.
What have you been doing aII this time?
Did I reaIIy say PhiIipoupoIis?
You said PhiIipoupoIis.
Where wiII you go?
During his exiIe,
Manakis used to come here everyday and stare at this river.
The Evros fIowing into the Aegean Sea.
What river are you taIking about?
I don´t understand.
I don´t know what´s the matter with me.
Touch me.
Save me.
Sophia
Novi-Iskar
Svoge... Mezdra... Cerven...
Brjag... PIaven... NikopoI...
Bridge on the Danube...
Border...
Turnu-MagureIe.
Rosiori de Vede...
Bucuresti.
What´s the matter?
In Bucharest in the earIy months of 1905,
they toId us we wouId...
We wouId...
We couId buy in EngIand or France machines for making moving pictures.
This was new. It was the...
That´s an excuse. Just an excuse.
Why have we come here?
Why have you come?
You knew aII aIong that there were Romanians
to cover the brothers´ materiaI from the BuIgarians.
The two countries broke off reIations.
Isn´t that right?
After Romania went over the aIIy side in the war.
So why have you come?
My footsteps.
Somehow they Ied me here.
Mother, what are you doing here?
Thank God we made it in time.
Come on, we have six hours to reach Costanza.
Come on, chiId.
You´re wasting time.
Good evening, Madam.
FinaIIy! How was your journey?
We were worried.
You know... the trains...
Grandmother.
Come, my boy!
How did you Iike Bucharest?
You´ve come at Iast!
Grandfather.
Good evening, grandfather.
Good evening, my girI.
You´re Iate, Katerina.
I was so afraid I´d miss him.
It was New Year´s Eve, wasn´t it when they took him away?
I don´t even want to think about it.
Those camps were Iiberated some time ago.
OnIy Matthausen took them a Iong time.
UncIe LangiIos.
Did you have a nice trip?
Did you have a good time, my boy?
Aunt Jenny from BreiIIa.
UncIe Nikos from GaIantz.
The girIs.
What did you see? TeII us.
How was Bucharest?
The whoIe famiIy.
Is everything ready?
Yes, Madam.
I have prepared the soup.
The tabIe wiII be ready in haIf an hour.
When do you want me to serve dinner?
He´s on his way!
He´s here!
He´s here! He´s here!
Father. How Iong it´s been.
Aren´t you going to kiss your father?
He´s grown up.
He´s grown so taII. He has your eyes.
Happy New Year!
Happy 1945!
Aren´t you dancing? Don´t teII me you don´t know how.
One two three...
You´re wasting your time, mother.
I never know how to dance.
Come on.
Happy 1948.
Take us away from here, Spyro.
I want to Ieave.
I can´t bear it.
Mother.
I never got to dance with you.
You got the permit at Iast!
Let´s see it! Show us!
How many of You are Ieaving?
About eighty Greek famiIies...
but Jews and Armenians as weII...
Constanza wiII be quite deserted.
Are you gIad to be going to Greece, my boy?
The PeopIe´s Confiscation Committee is here.
Ignore them.
Happy New Year Happy 1950.
A photograph.
One Iast photograph.
What was it you said, grandfather?
Here on this Iand, by these waters...
we Iived happiIy for many centuries.
Come aIong. We´re waiting for you.
I´m coming, Mother.
Odessa, Constanza, Danube, Germany.
Where the heII are you going?
Don´t you know there´s a war?
I´ve got to make a phone caII.
And I´II...
I´m going to get something for the trip.
Don´t cry.
I´m crying, because I...
Because I can´t Iove you.
In the earIy months of 1905, in Bucharest, Romania,
we were toId that in EngIand and France
you couId buy machines for making moving pictures.
We couId hardIy beIieve it.
It took our breath away.
But we had to beIieve it, because we saw
one of these moving pictures with our own eyes.
The peopIe in these pictures Iooked Iike puppets.
They moved jerkiIy Iike puppets.
But that didn´t matter. We were compIeteIy fascinated.
My brother Yannakis was so excited,
he couIdn´t rest untiI he got hoId of this magic machine
and take it back to Monastir.
He saw it in his dreams. He raved about it.
So whiIe I made my way home,
he got on the ship and went off to London
to find a Bioscope 300 camera made by the CharIes Urban Company.
Tripartite Border ControI.
DecIare destination.
Destination: Germany
Have you anyone on board?
Nobody.
The first thing God created was the journey.
And then came doubt... and nostaIgia...
How about some coffee?
Or do we go right now?
You know me.
I know you.
What are you Iooking for?
Signs of war? You won´t find any.
The war´s so cIose that it might as weII be far away.
How Iong have you been here in BeIgrade, Niko?
What attracts you? The war?
The danger?
The need for intensity?
What attracts me? I don´t know.
I don´t have any answers.
As for your other question...
I´ve been here aImost three years and I think I´II stay.
But first I want to see an end to this war.
Where are we going?
You´II see.
You asked for the man in charge of the BeIgrade FiIm Archives.
You´II see him.
Despite his age he´s hoIding up pretty weII.
Everyone referred me to him.
The man´s a waIking archive.
What do you want?
Who are you?
Good morning. We´re here to see Mr. Yovisitsa.
Good morning.
I´ve been expecting you.
This is where I spend aII my time.
I´m busy making an inventory of aII the fiIms
made between 1950 and 1955...
when YugosIavia was YugosIavia.
I know what you´re Iooking for.
Those undeveIoped reeIs.
I had them.
After Yannakis died MiItos soId aII his materiaI to us.
You know that.
I was young then, fuII of boyish enthusiasm.
One evening he brought me three reeIs.
He pIaced them in my hands.
He was moved...as if parting with something very precious.
For 20 years we tried to deveIop those reeIs.
HopeIess.
Nothing came through.
We couIdn´t figure out the chemicaI formuIa.
A few years ago a coIIeague from Sarajevo...
asked me if he couId have them.
He was an expert in deveIoping fiIms of that period.
But then the war broke out and we Iost touch.
You just have to wait tiII the war ends.
Did you find a hoteI?
I must do something about it.
You´ve come aII this way.
BaIkan hospitaIity and aII that...
I´ve taken care of it.
You´II have to wait untiI the end of the war.
Goodbye.
Sarajevo.
Let´s go get a drink to forget.
After aII there´s nothing you can do.
First thing you have to Iearn is where to change your money.
What´s the probIem?
They´re arguing over who came to the BaIkans first...
the Serbs or the AIbanians... onIy to come to the concIusion
that it´s aII HegeI´s fauIt for infIuencing Marx.
Something´s happened at the Bosnian front.
I reaIIy shouId Ieave too.
But what the heII, I can´t just Ieave you...
Let´s drink...
To the years in Paris...
to Francoise, to HeIga...
to MicheIe... to Monique...
to Antigone...
to aII our busted hopes...
to the worId that hasn´t changed... for aII our dreaming.
To Mikes...
to Kazuko...to Costas...
to aII those who chose to Ieave earIy...
How do you journaIists manage to get through...
to the war zone? Isn´t it terribIy risky?
A rhetoricaI answer... off-hand...
Danger is my business.
but the truth is that most of the correspondents...
when they want to send in a story or the Iatest news...
go to various army units outside BeIgrade...
and stage the war there... at the cost of a few doIIars...
OnIy a few of them actuaIIy enter the war zone.
Let´s drink to the sea.
To the inexhaustibIe sea.
The beginning and the end.
To CharIie Mingus, to Tsitsanis, to Cavafy...
to Che Guevara,
to May of ´68.
to Santorini.
To Morino, to Dreyer, Orson WeIIes.
To your three reeIs...
to Eisenstein..
Do we Iove him?
We Ioved him, but he didn´t Iove us.
Let´s drink to the two of us, then.
We feII asIeep sweetIy in one worId...
and were rudeIy awakened in another.
Pity you came aII this way for nothing.
But it´s aIright.
I got a chance to see you... though that´s aII that came out of it.
Here we are.
I´ve got to get to Sarajevo.
Are you out of your mind?
You´re not serious, are you?
We´II get hoId of a correspondent on his way there.
We´II ask him to get the information you need.
When?
Now.
The onIy way to get there without a permit...
is to foIIow the rivers.
There´s a boat Ieaving every evening.
It saiIs from the Danube to the Sava...
and aIong the tributaries to Sarajevo.
YugosIavia is fuII of rivers...
OnIy take care.
It´s dangerous.
I´ve got to go to Sarajevo.
Greek, wake up.
The PhiIipoupoIis poIice are Iooking for you.
PhiIipoupoIis...
Evros... my house... Evros...
BuIgaria... border...
Greece.
Aegean... sea...
Vania!
Vania...
Vaniushka...
When spring comes...
what wouId you Iike me to pIant there where your head rests?
A birch to keep you cooI and remind you of home?
TeII me what you want, my Iove.
Or wouId you Iike both,
a birch...and a popIar...
from your Gomushka, Vania, my Iove...?
Vania, Vaniushka...
Vania... Vania...
EngIish... French... Greek army...
German... BuIgarian... army.
I was Iying asIeep at the bottom of my IittIe boat
when it bumped into the jutting edge of the wharf.
One, two bumps.
Then the boat came to a standstiII.
For a moment, aII I couId hear was the Iapping of the water.
Then there was the sound of a distant expIosion.
It was a hoIIow sound
as if it come out of a deep pit.
I raised my head.
On the right and Ieft of the canaI were taII buiIdings
torn apart by the artiIIery fire.
Their bIackened windows seem to be staring at me.
A Iarge cIoud of bIack smoke darkened the horizon.
Is this Sarajevo?
I´m Iooking for...Ivo Levy.
Do you know Ivo Levy?
Ivo Levy.
Ivo Levy?
I´m Iooking for Ivo Levy.
Are you Ivo Levy?
Come now.
WeIcome to Sarajevo.
I´ve come...from far away.
I´m Iooking for something in your possession, I was toId.
Three reeIs of undeveIoped fiIm by the Manakis brothers.
You have come aII this way for that?
I suppose they sent you from BeIgrade.
You know who sent me? I know.
AII this way for the undeveIoped reeIs.
You have come aII this way Iooking for something
that´s beIieved to be Iost.
You...you must have a great faith.
or it is in despair
When I got hoId of those reeIs, I was wiId with excitement.
It was a chaIIenge finding the oId chemicaI formuIa.
I tried severaI combinations.
For six months, I tried.
I kept changing the fIuids over and over again.
I sat in a smaII deveIoping Iab.
EndIess nights Iistening to the goIden fIuids.
There are time that the goIden fIuids sound Iike a song.
You see, Iike a song, you know.
It...it sounds Iike a song.
Like a song.
I was doing fine.
I had aImost gotten it right.
AII I needed was one more adjustment in the formuIa.
Just a detaiI, reaIIy.
Then the war broke out.
I had to concentrate on saving the fiIm archives.
It´s our memory. I had to save it.
This pIace is my Iife, my whoIe Iife.
Besides, there was no point anymore.
What´s the point now with aII this sIaughter going on?
This was our cinema.
PIease. You can come with me.
Attention, pIease.
This is now our cinematheque.
Here. Here´s my treasure.
´´Birth of Nation´´...
´´Doctor Mabuse´´...
´´FaIstaff´...
´´Persona´´...
´´MetropoIis´´...
´´Ordet´´...
Sit down. Sit down.
PIease.
You have no right.
In the beginning, there were times I thought
I had dreamt it aII up.
Then it became something Iost.
And now it´s a gaze,
struggIing to merge from the dark.
A kind of birth.
You have no right to keep it Iocked away.
That gaze.
It´s the war.
The insanity.
Death.
AII the more reason...
You have no right.
You are tired.
Upset.
Come and Iie down. You´re...
Try to get some sIeep. You´re...
You need it.
So you reaIIy need it.
Lie...down.
So...we´II taIk it about it Iater.
Or tomorrow.
You have no right.
1994/12/3
I Iive my Iife in ever widening circIes...
that rise above things...
I probabIy won´t come Iast... but I´II try.
I circIe around God.
Good morning... Father... where are you?
I don´t understand.
I´m Iooking for my father.
They were here.
I have no idea. They were here not Iong ago.
Father... Father...
I wish I couId wait for him.
I haven´t seen him for days.
The siren wiII go off any moment now and...
we Iive at the other end of town.
Are you aII right?
Your face...
It seems famiIiar.
As if I´ve known you for years.
AImost as if I´ve aIways known you.
What am I taIking about?
Sorry I said that.
But it seemed to me...
WeII...
I´ve got to go.
TeII him I waited for him.
TeII him we´re expecting him.
Au revoir.
You are feeIing better now?
I´m sorry.
I went into your Iab whiIe you were away.
But I heard the fIuids sing.
And I saw the sampIes.
You were right.
TruIy you were making headway.
I feeI...
I´m touched. I...
I... I think... You´re shivering.
ProbabIy got a fever.
Just...another try.
Just one more time.
You shouId drink something hot.
ChiId! Tea!
You have convinced me
You were right.
Besides...
What am I... if not a coIIector of vanished gazes?
1994/12/3
I Iive my Iife in ever widening circIes...
that rise above things.
I probabIy won´t come Iast... but I´II try...
I circIe around God...
Come.
Come with me.
You´II have to wait before we screen it.
Out.
Out you go. Out with you.
It´s done!
It´s done.
Thanks for you insistence.
It needs to dry now.
But it wiII onIy take a few hours.
I´ve been hearing footsteps, voices outside
in the street for some time now.
And the boy is gone.
I tried to find him...
Don´t worry.
He has a habit of disappearing Iike that.
He´II turn up again suddenIy Iike an angeI of the war.
Tonight perhaps or tomorrow.
Footsteps and voices?
Wasn´t that what you said?
The fog.
I sensed it.
In this city, the fog is man´s best friend.
Does it sound strange?
It´s because it´s the onIy time the city gets back to normaI.
AImost Iike it used to be.
The snipers have zero visibiIities.
Foggy days and festive days here, so Iet´s ceIebrate.
Besides, we have another cause for ceIebration. A fiIm.
A captive gaze, as you caIIed it,
from the earIy days of the century,
set free at Iast at the end of the century.
Isn´t that an important event?
Music.
Oh, yes.
A youth orchestra.
Boys.
Serbs, Croats, MusIims.
They come out when there´s a seize fire.
They go from pIace to pIace and make music in the city.
How about it?
ShaII we go out too?
I´II want you to meet my famiIy.
We might go for a waIk down by the river.
"Good night. Good night".
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
That I shaII say good night tiII it be morrow.
SIeep dweII upon thine eyes,
peace in thy breasts.
WouId I were sIeep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence wiII I to my ghostIy father´s ceII,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell"
ShaII we dance?
This is something I shouId have dreamt of.
Dancing in Sarajevo.
You were sIeeping Iike a baby when I woke you up.
WiII you wait for me?
Is it wrong not to Iove the city where you were born?
But this pIace stifIes me.
Rain and mud in winter... dust in summer.
I´II be back to take you away from here.
I can hear my train coming in.
Stay a IittIe Ionger...
OnIy a few minutes.
I can hear the train.
I must hurry.
TeII me that you care... that you´II come back.
I´II be waiting.
You see what I meant?
Foggy days are festive days here.
Strange.
The grass is sprouting through the snow.
I think so.
It Iooks Iike an earIy spring.
What are we ceIebrating, grandmother?
We´re ceIebrating the fog and something more besides.
But there´s nothing to see.
We´II Iisten to the river.
At Ieast there´s that.
The winds turn southerIy.
In spring, the sound of music from the city...
Can you imagine what shape the cIouds have?
This one on top of us is Iike a car.
That other one at the far end of the sky...
Iooks Iike grandfather.
Where are you? Where are you?
Dasha... Vide...
Didn´t I say you shouId wait for me?
Dasha... Vide...
Won´t you eat something?
Vide! Dasha! Won´t you eat something?
Hey! ShaII we dance?
We have been Ieft behind. Where are the others?
We´re gonna Iose each other.
Naomi, go take a Iook.
Yes, father.
You Iook worried.
There are moments when I see shadows in your eye.
No, it´s just that I´m tired.
It´s been a Iong journey.
Then aII this waiting.
Waiting to see that gaze.
We were just taking a waIk by the river.
Don´t go. No matter what happens.
Our Lord and Maker made a fine mess of things, Sir.
A fine mess!
The chiIdren first!
No! Not the chiIdren.
I won´t Iet you.
AIright then. WouId you mind going down to the river, too?
The boys here want a few words with you.
My chiIdren! My chiIdren!
Not my chiIdren! PIease don´t take my chiIdren from me!
Dasha...
Take her too and drop her in the river with the others.
Yes sir, that´s the way it is!
Our Lord and Maker made a mess of it.
When I return, it wiII be with another man´s cIothes.
Another man´s name.
My coming wiII be unexpected.
If you Iook at me, unbeIieving and say,
You are not here.
I wiII show you signs and you wiII beIieve me.
I wiII teII you about the Iemon tree in your garden.
The cooI window that Iets in the moonIight.
And then signs of the body.
Signs of Iove.
And as we cIimb, trembIing to our oId room,
between one embrace and the next,
between Iovers´ caIIs,
I wiII teII you about the journey... aII the night Iong.
And then aII the nights to come.
Between one embrace and the next.
Between Iovers´ caIIs.
The whoIe human adventure.
The story that never ends.
subtitle by PINOYPIRATE