Cast: Branko Djuric, Rene Bitorajac, Filip Sovagovic, Georges Siatidis, Serge-Henri Valcke, Simon Callow, Katrin Cartlidge
Director: Danis Tanovic
Producers: Marc Baschet, Frédérique Dumas-Zajdela, Cédomir Kolar
Screenplay: Danis Tanovic
Cinematography: Walther Vanden Ende
Music: Danis Tanovic
U.S. Distributor: United Artists
In Bosnian, French, and English with subtitles
There are essentially two kinds of war films: those that present battle as an heroic spectacle and those that show the grim, grotesque, dehumanizing side of it. Back in the '40s, '50s, and '60s, when America was engaged in wars both hot and cold, the war film was defined by scenes and images of predictable glory - for example, John Wayne striding into the thick of the struggle and emerging victorious. But, in the wake of Vietnam, the tide turned, with movies like Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Saving Private Ryan, and The Thin Red Line exposing the absurdity and waste inherent in even the most justifiable war.
Bosnia is the province of No Man's Land - a place whose horrific and catastrophic civil war few Americans understood and even fewer cared about. Part of that has to do with the fact that the conflict occurred half a world away; another part has to do with the superficial nature of the media coverage. But for Eastern Europe, the situation in the Balkans was of a more immediate concern. And, whereas Hollywood has used the Bosnian conflict to give us gung-ho, old fashioned war pictures like Behind Enemy Lines, first-time Bosnian director Danis Tanovic has countered with the dark, sober No Man's Land, a movie that is by turns blackly satirical and hauntingly real.
Tanovic started his career behind the camera shooting footage of the war while in the Bosnian army. After his military stint was over, Tanovic went to work assembling the pieces of No Man's Land, which received broad-based European financial support and won a screenwriting award at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival. An eloquent anti-war testimonial, it paints a bleak picture of how there is no simple answer to deeply-rooted hatred - a message the United Nations should consider when attempting to put together a post-Taliban government in tribal Afghanistan, where unity seems unlikely. No Man's Land cleverly plays on our expectations from previous war films about how this scenario is supposed to develop, then douses the flickering flames of fantasy with a bucket of realistic cold water. In this film, there are no heroes, only victims. And, in addition to getting into World War I-style trenches overflowing with the mutual despite of the Bosnians and Serbs, Tanovic takes a damning view of the United Nations' bungling and how the media manipulates, and is manipulated by, the military.
The movie opens in the midst of a dense fog - an apt metaphor for the chaos that swirled around the former Yugoslavia - with a small group of Bosnian soldiers making their way towards the front lines. They get lost, and, when the mists clear, they are massacred by the Serbs. One survivor, Chiki (Branko Djuric), ends up in a trench in no man's land, temporarily safe from attack by the enemy, but unable to return to his side. Soon after, two Serbs stealthily make their way to the trench to search for survivors. Chiki eliminates one, but ends up in a standoff with the other, Nino (Rene Bitorajac). They endure an uneasy truce until they discover a third person, Cera (Filip Sovagovic), whose precarious situation represents a danger to all three survivors. And, when a United Nations force with an accompanying media caravan arrives, the situation becomes less, not more, stable.
No Man's Land is essentially comprised of two elements - the three-character sequences in the trench, which reveal less about the individuals trapped there than about the depth of their people's blind hatred for one another. This is the Serb/Bosnian conflict in a microcosm, and is as compelling as it is difficult to watch. These characters bond, but not in the way we expect them to. The other aspect of No Man's Land is a broad condemnation of United Nations' "aid" - how politics and egos cause well-intentioned efforts to decay into exercises in incompetence. The media plays a prime role - the military ends up acting because they are fearful of a public relations nightmare. So they manipulate what the cameras see to serve their own ends, even as the presence of the journalists forces them to do something when they would prefer to remain uninvolved.
The muti-national cast features a combination of both known and unknown faces. Perhaps the most familiar of the actors is Simon Callow (Four Weddings and a Funeral), who plays a blustering, self-serving general cut from the same mold as Dr. Strangelove's General Turgidson. Katrin Cartlidge (Before the Rain) is Jane Livingstone, an on-location reporter for a global news agency. Georges Siatidis is Marchand, the French sergeant who genuinely wants to do something, and who states that doing nothing isn't being neutral - it represents taking a side. Branko Djuric, Rene Bitorajac, and Filip Sovagovic play the three men in the trench with an intensity that makes each of them entirely believable.
With the United States currently involved in attacking Afghanistan and with pro-military patriotic fervor at a post-World War II high, it is unclear how well a movie like this, with a clear anti-war message, will fare. There is no doubt, however, that, like Platoon and Saving Private Ryan, No Man's Land poses some disturbing questions about the nature of hatred and the wars it spawns. Those in search of mindless heroism and adrenaline-fueled derring-do in the Balkans need look no further than Behind Enemy Lines. Those on a quest for a film with more grit and substance will find it in No Man's Land.
© 2001 James Berardinelli