Ivana Mladenović: Everything Is True Except the Parts We Changed

Director Ivana Mladenović returns to Sarajevo with “Sorella di Clausura,” a story about a woman from rural Romania who falls in love with a Balkan musician after seeing him on television. The film will be screened tonight at National Theatre Sarajevo. 

 

 

“Sorella di Clausura” is based on an autobiographical manuscript by Liliana Pelici. But the moment you turn a life into a film, you inevitably change it, condensing events and protecting people’s privacy. People always ask, “But how much of it is true?” 

 

With “Sorella di Clausura,” the answer is: almost all of it… and not quite. It is rooted in Liliana Pelici’s life, but making a film means cutting, rearranging, and shielding certain details. That inevitably contaminates the truth. The title card was my way of warning and teasing the audience: yes, it happened, but no, you cannot treat the film like a police report. It is not pure reality, nor pure fiction. It lives in that strange, beautiful space where the two cannot be separated. It is all true, except for the parts we changed, which is almost everything. 

 

 

In 2008, Romania was in a peculiar moment. There was a sense of prosperity, of new dreams, especially with EU accession. But for someone like Stela, a 36-year-old woman from rural Romania who was already broke, that dream was always out of reach. At first, she believes in those promises, even in the idea that God might save her. She tries to adapt, she tries to earn, but the money keeps vanishing. 

 

The crisis back then came quickly but also ended quickly. Today we are facing something different. Inflation is relentless, and it does not stop, so the feeling of being unable to keep up is even sharper. Stela’s story could easily take place now, or in many other times, because it is about the struggle to survive when the system moves faster than you can. The 2008 setting adds a certain irony: the official narrative was one of progress, but for Stela, it was just another version of the same fight. 

 

 

Social media today is like a constant parade of wealth and luxury, things most people will never have. When you place a very poor girl in that context, you begin to understand what it does to her self-esteem. In Stela’s case, her idol is a Balkan singer who only really cares about money. We unconsciously borrow traits from the people we admire, but it depends on who they are. I grew up in a grunge environment, and it left a lifelong mark on me. Staring at shiny, expensive things you cannot have can make you feel socially inadequate, and your economic background becomes a big trigger for that. 

 

That said, I actually prefer the side of TikTok where people make funny, authentic, inventive things. Sometimes it makes you feel less alone, and sometimes it does the opposite — it makes you feel lost in it. 

 

 

I think obsession and loneliness often do go hand in hand. In Stela’s case, her obsession is almost like living online, even though the film is set at the very beginning of the internet era. Seen from today’s perspective, that kind of life feels like the very definition of loneliness. 

 

 

It’s deeply Freudian, I promise! (Laughs) I love my dad’s humor and charisma. At first, I did not want to cast him. I had big dreams of casting a real musician, a star. It was almost delusional to think that such well-known actors would want to appear in a Serbian-Romanian Black Wave social comedy drama, almost as crazy as Stela herself. 

 

 

He is funny, even though he is a very private man, a veterinarian living in the woods. What amazes me is how much humor and playfulness he has gained with age. I really admire that. 

 

Something similar happened when casting other characters in the film. Most of the cast are not professional actors. They are people I met at the market or on the street. They perfectly embody the social environment I wanted to portray, and I admire them deeply, first as people, and then for their talent. 

 

 

In 2016, I met Anca Pop, a singer and close friend who later acted in my film “Ivana the Terrible” (2019). She was deeply committed to helping publish Liliana Pelici’s manuscript, a story about a young woman from Timișoara struggling with poverty and obsession. Anca believed in Liliana’s talent, but finding a publisher was difficult. I guess nobody cared about the story of a poor girl from nowhere. The day after we met, Anca brought me the manuscript and urged me to read it, hoping I might one day make a film from it. 

 

I was drawn to the narrative’s intense voice, punk, edgy, and full of self-irony, but had to set it aside to finish another project. Tragically, near the end of shooting “Ivana the Terrible,” Anca died in a car accident. This film is not about her life, but it is made in her memory. She was a fierce fighter who helped Liliana bring her story to light. 

 

Though the film does not tell Anca’s story directly, it carries her spirit. She was funny, smart, generous, and always willing to help others. This is how I want to remember her. 

 

The first time I came to Sarajevo was in 2009, during the work-in-progress section, while I was finishing my first documentary, which later won the Heart of Sarajevo Award. Being back here now feels incredible. In a way, this city helped shape me; I arrived fresh out of film school almost twenty years ago. 

 

But Sarajevo is more than just a place for film premieres. It is where I have connected with amazing filmmakers and mentors, sharing stories and growing as an artist. This festival gave me my first real encouragement for documentary filmmaking, which meant a great deal for my career. 

 

I am also grateful to be back among the audience and the people who pour so much passion into this festival and this city. Sarajevo holds so many memories for me.