There is a human tendency to personify nature, argues director Miroslav Mandic, to characterise it through anthropocentric means. But this is a one-way process. “Nature thinks and feels differently. To her we are only one of the elements and certainly not the central one,” he underlines in his notes for his new short film Hug, selected for Sarajevo FF Documentary Competition.
In the film we see a series of images from nature, much of the time linked by an olive motif. An olive floats on clear water while high winds shake dense olive trees. Crashing waves on the shore are juxtaposed with mini waves across olive oil within a refinery. Branches float on the sea and a fallen tree is embraced, even suffocated by ivy. We also see human hands pick olives in traditional, non-mechanized method.
All the time our senses are stimulated by an enormous soundscape which is in turn complemented (sometimes combatted) by a modernist, at times percussive, musical score comprising saxophone and guitar.
Director Miroslav Mandic makes films which express and promote harmony with the environment, such as his feature film San Remo (2020) about a dementia sufferer who often finds sanctuary within nature. It is an organic comfort which is preferable to that offered by medical staff.
“Many of us during the pandemic were kind of thinking, why is this going on? And my predominant thought throughout was that human beings have been exploiting nature for centuries, if not longer,” Mandic opines to BDE. “We did it sometimes for the better, but most of the time it’s sheer exploitation. And poor nature from time to time freaks out at us and throws a tsunami or throws an earthquake at us. And this time around she basically threw that pandemic to tell us, ‘hey guys, take it easy because you can’t just exploit me.’”
So an idea for a short film began to hatch, especially at a time when his disdain for the human species was at its highest. “I began to wonder more intensely than usual during the pandemic, to what extent that is really true. I somehow began to admire ants. I personally think that ants are superior to us. They don’t have this same rationale [as humans]. We take pride about all our inventions, about all our technology, our so-called progress. I happen to be against progress [which is] at the expense of nature…So I decided to make a short meditation about nature without humans.”
Many filmmakers will tell you that their film has to be experienced on the big screen for one to appreciate fully its sound design and soundtrack. This is very much the case with Hug, whose sonic discourse, whether in terms of soundscape or score, should be considered of equal prominence/importance to the visuals. While he is not in any way overbearing about sound (Mandic would like his film to be watched on any format) the director nevertheless describes an ideal theatrical screening with 5.1 reproduction, “because we really worked hard on that sound, and all those sound effects travel from the screen beside behind you, and back towards. It’s really something.”
One such effect is when the sea waves are sucked into a hole in a rock, which is accompanied by a score that resembles strained human breathing, like a person struggling with an open tracheostomy.
It is at this point in our conversation that Mandic acknowledges his own very human tendency towards anthropocentricity, despite his belief in nature as an entity of which our species is merely a small part. Even the very title of the film is ambiguous when you assess one of the key images of the ivy embracing the tree, which Mandic also says resembles a ‘corpse’. “It even becomes more like strangling than hugging,” he says.
“So I don’t know what the hell got into me, I’m now the one who is giving anthropocentric or human aspects to other parts of nature that are not human. So I almost feel scared of watching the film with an audience in a few days,” he laughs.
The film’s career post-Sarajevo is one that Mandic hopes will involve screenings in gallery spaces as well as cinema auditoria. He also imagines a little more musical interaction with composer Darko Rundek – “formally a rock and roll star, now more somebody who goes for this meditative, not so harmonious melodic stuff” – and saxophonist Ana Kovačić.
“We are planning some concerts of Darko and Ana where we would go to a place and run the short film. Then during the final credits, they will just come out and continue from the credits into a longer concert and then just play on,” the director explains. “They’re great friends and they are totally immersed into this kind of thinking.”
