30,000 Bosnian citizens stand outside the gates of the United Nations’ regional headquarters. They’ve managed to escape the rapidly approaching Serbian army for at least a few hours. Despite the headquarters being located in the alleged safety-zone of Srebrenica, these refugees have discovered the disturbing truth that the UN has reneged on its promise to the Bosnians of protection from the Serbs. The camp is now full. Those on the outside are left to wait.
A middle aged woman rushes through the halls of the headquarters, being pulled into various rooms and corners to offer urgent translations for UN peacekeepers who are trying to organise the disarrayed crowd of people lucky enough to have made it inside the encampment. But she is not focused on this – her husband and two sons were meant to have arrived at the headquarters by now. They are nowhere in sight. Finally, she finds her youngest son who informs her that he was separated from his father and brother at the gate. They remain outside. No one else is being allowed inside the camp.
This is the situation in which Jasmila Žbanić’s feature film Quo Vadis, Aida? finds its protagonist, Aida Selmanagić. The day is July 11, 1995; the first day of what will become eleven infamous days of conflict with the Serbian army, which will culminate in the massacre of over 8,000 civilian Bosnian men and boys. The massacre will be named the Srebrenica Genocide, and the Serbian government will not recognise their involvement in it until 2010.
Garnering a nomination for this year’s Academy Award for Best International Feature Film, Quo Vadis, Aida? lays bare the horrors of the Srebrenica Genocide in an unflinching condemnation of the institutional failure that enabled the Serbian army to commit gross atrocities and human rights violations against Bosnian civilians.
The film’s title translates to ‘Where Are You Marching, Aida?,’ which is a reflection of the character’s relentless efforts to secure a safe haven for her husband and two teenage sons. As the Serbian army bears down on the camp, Aida sprints down hallways and offices, storage rooms and loading docks, looking for any way to save her family. Despite the unavoidable truth that no one will come to save them, Aida holds out hope. She will find a way to save her children, no matter how fruitless the endeavor inevitably becomes.
Like many, my knowledge of the Bosnian War was very surface level. I had heard of the violence and the high death toll (over 100,000 lives lost, making it one of the deadliest inter-ethnic conflicts in Europe since World War II) but my knowledge ended there. In fact, it was this global amnesia surrounding the Bosnian War that inspired Žbanić to bring the story to the big screen. Quo Vadis, Aida? demands everything from the viewer. You hear the wails of mothers being dragged away from their sons, husbands and wives stealing one final embrace, the protests of young men forced to confront their own fickle mortality as they’re herded onto trucks with unknown destinations. A haunting violin score makes only three appearances in the movie, guiding the viewer through the narrative in a relentless fashion.
A phantom-like camera glides through crowds and across faces, never beholden to any one subject. At times, Žbanić employs slow-motion on these tracking shots, chillingly lingering on the faces of those we doubt will live to see the end of this war. Jasna Đuričić, who plays Aida, is unforgiving in her portrayal. She refuses to shy away from the devastation felt by the mothers and wives who had their sons, husbands, brothers, and nephews ripped from their arms.
Quo Vadis, Aida? is a reminder of the more unappetizing importance of cinema. Cinema can act as a form of historical record, a form of remembrance, a form of outcry. I would place this film in the ranks of those like Come and See and Waltz with Bashir – films that seek to immortalize the devastation that war brings, as well as the lives of those who are senslessly killed in its name.
Quo Vadis, Aida? is available in the UK on both Curzon Home Cinema and Amazon for £4.99.