Underground: History More Absurd Than Film

Recently, because of our visit to three European countries, Yugoslavia has once again come into the public eye.

This country, located in Southern Europe and once known as the "Balkan Tiger," was, to me, the "Walter Defends Sarajevo" that adults talked about in my childhood; it was the embassy being bombed in the news and the passionate crowds of people on the streets; it was also the homeland that Abramović, whom I admired during my school years, could never return to.

Apart from that, I knew almost nothing about it. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that Yugoslavia had reached the level of a moderately developed country as early as the 1970s, with a per capita GDP that once exceeded that of the Soviet Union, making it the wealthiest socialist country.

While our streets were still filled with bicycles, their car ownership rate had already reached 36%, with almost every household owning a car, refrigerator, and television. The level of education, scientific, and industrial development in the entire country was something I had never seen or could imagine at that time.

In such a country, which experienced division, unity, war, poverty, rapid development, affluence, and then rapid decline and division again, what kind of lives did ordinary people lead?

Director Emir Kusturica is one of those ordinary people. He was born in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, and now his nationality can only be Serbian. As a director, he has told many stories about that country that no longer exists in his films, such as "Underground."

This film, like his other works, is extremely romantic and absurd. From the camera work to the dialogue and music, it feels like you're walking down the street and suddenly being dragged into a pre-apocalyptic revelry. There are planes, cannons, clowns, circuses, endless flowers, and endless drinks. Monkeys drive tanks, girls float in the air, some cry, some laugh, some dance, and some shoot themselves. No matter how much effort is put in, no matter how sincere the hope, the future no longer exists, and no one can wait for that imagined golden sunrise.

After 170 minutes of explosive bombardment-like output, the director provides an incredibly gentle ending.

Ivan and everyone are together, and they all get what they most desire. He says:

"We have found a new house here, with red roofs and chimneys, birds nesting there, and open doors welcoming dear guests. We thank the land for nourishing us, the sun for warming us, and the green grass like our homeland. We should remember our homeland and those pains and joys. We will tell our children, like a fairy tale, once upon a time, there was a country..."

Once upon a time, there was a country called Yugoslavia. It was like Ivan’s monkey, and Ivan was Kusturica.