Bitef

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"Are we ever going to be happy again?," the German population asked themselves at the end of the Second World War. A significant part of the Serbian population is facing the same question in the wake of the new millennium. The Germans called that moment "hour zero", to symbolize their desire for a fresh start. But this appeared to be an illusion, because one can't escape one's own history; one can only hope to survive it. Will You Ever Be Happy Again? is a piece for one Serbian and one German performer. Developed around authentic autobiographical accounts of its performers. Will You Ever Be Happy Again? employs documentary strategies to explore how nationality influences one's personal identity. This issue has been acutely pertinent to both Serbia and Germany, which, at different points in their national histories, have been perceived in negative terms within the international community. Will You Ever Be Happy Again? is structured as a succession of performative situations, based, amongst others, on childhood games, primary school classes and sporting events. The performers' personal and collective memories outline the narratives of good vs. bad, of victim vs. criminal, and how these distinctions can easily be turned upside down. The German performer relates his family memories, the period after the Second World War and the Cold War era. The Serbian performer reflects on her childhood in the 1980 s, the ethnic conflicts and disintegration of Former Yugoslavia in the 19905, and the recent experience of becoming a Dutch citizen. Counter-pointing and mirroring each other's cultural and historical backgrounds, they attempt to approach the problem of self-representation, the way one looks at the other, and the urge to see oneself through the eyes of another. Will You Ever Be Happy Again? is poised between documentary material and its theatrical interpretation. Shifting from a straightforward address to allusion to quotation, and relying on an oblique exploitation of historical images and poetic expressions, the work swings from research to a ritual game that creates imaginary parallels between the two countries, repeating History just like History always seems to repeat itself.

We would like to keep this image, this beautiful image, taken from multiple angles by the cameramen of Radio Television Belgrade (...) magnificent to the very last. Free kick for Red Star. This is a good position for a player with a fantastically strong kick... Sinisa Mihajlovic... Mihajlovii, and... 1:0!!!!! Goal, goal, goal, goooooooo aaaaaaalllll...!!!!! Is this a moment of football history?!?!? Is this the goal which will take Red Star into the European Cup Finals?!?!? Sinisa Mihajlovic... 27th-28th minute... 1:0 for Red Star! Red Star's football shell is on fire with joy and happiness!" Milojko Pantic, The European Cup semi-finals Red Star Belgrade vs. Bayern München, broadcast on Radio Television Belgrade, 24. April 1991 Now imagine that you are Anica, a badly wounded Partisan, and in your own words say how you think she would tell the story. Heavy blood was pouring out of me. I was badly wounded. The big hero was brave so he saved me. When the Big Hero saw me, he ran, badly wounded himself, to save me. I would have saved him as well, should I have seen him wounded. We were both saved when we caught a glimpse of the Partisans. Sonja Mitrovic, Class 1-5, Primary school »Petar Petrovic Njegos«, Zrenjanin, 1985 I knew it already. It makes no sense to feel guilty about a crime somebody else committed, but there was something in the German education system that made us feel responsible, especially when traveling through Europe. My grandfather was a high-ranking Nazi in the town of Danzig (Gdansk). One day my grandmother found out that the brother of their Polish housemaid regularly organised meetings of Communist Partisans in the kitchen of their villa. My grandmother was a wise lady and she never told any of this to her husband, because he would never tell her how close the Red Army really was. She kept quiet and the housemaid stayed. But the day she noticed the silver cutlery mysteriously starting to disappear, she packed her stuff, took her two daughters with her and headed for the West. My grandfather stayed behind. He still believed that Hitler had an atomic bomb and disappeared two days before the fall of Danzig (Gdansk). On the way from Calais, on that hot summer day in 1992, in a car heading to Germany that I flagged down, hitching with a Dutch girl and a Polish guy, I had a chat with the Pole. He was born in Gdansk (Danzig). His grandfather was a Communist Partisan who survived almost the entire war and then disappeared two days before the Russian troops arrived. Ills very possible that he was taking partin secret meetings at the villa of my grandparents, and also that the two men killed each other, having both disappeared on the exact same day. We tried to imagine reasons why we would kill each other, but we could find none. During our conversation we crossed from France into Belgium, with no border control. For the Polish guy, who grew up in a socialist country, this was extremely curious. That was the day when I stopped feeling guilty. Felix Ritter, 2008 Sanja Mitrovic

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