Croatian filmmaker Igor Jelinović’s feature debut, Honey Bunny, began with an argument within his own family. More than a decade later, the story of two sisters divided over a family house on the island of Hvar has become a sharply observed tragicomedy about property, loyalty and competing ideas of what a family owes its members. Following its international premiere at IFFR, Honey Bunny went on to win the Grand Golden Arena for Best Film at the Pula Film Festival (see the news). The movie was recently screened at the eighth Rab Film Festival, where Cineuropa caught up with Jelinović.

Cineuropa: You drew on your own family history for Honey Bunny. What made you want to turn that experience into a film?
Igor Jelinović: I got the idea in 2012, when my mother and her sister fell out over the house. Instead of reacting like the nephew in the film, impulsively and aggressively confronting my aunt, I started writing. The first versions were very one-sided, almost like a revenge film, with my aunt cast as the villain. I realised I was just pouring my frustration into it.

If the story was going to work, I had to get inside my aunt’s head and empathise with her. I shifted the story towards her point of view: she sees herself as caring, self-sacrificing and devoted, always doing what is best for everyone. I became interested in the narratives she builds around the family that allow her to believe what she is doing is morally justified.

What was the biggest challenge in turning something so close to your own life into fiction?
Distancing myself from what actually happened. Just because something happened in real life didn’t mean it belonged in the film. The characters may be based on real people, but they had to become fictional, and the actors transformed them further through their own ways of speaking and moving.

After almost ten years, I was exhausted by the subject. I was sick of spending so much time in these people’s heads. Two months before the shoot, I threw out the entire script and started again from scratch. I kept the characters and relationships, but changed all the scenes and the way the story unfolded.

That gave the film new energy. During rehearsals and the shoot, we kept changing dialogue, adding digressions and reacting to what was happening. It was stressful, but it gave the film the rawness and almost documentary quality I was looking for.

How did you approach working with such an experienced ensemble on your first feature?
Working with actors is probably my favourite part of directing, and for me it comes down to trust. During rehearsals, we allowed ourselves endless digressions. I talked about my family and experiences, the actors brought in their own, and we found the characters somewhere in between. I cast very carefully, looking for actors who could listen and work without too much ego. Once they knew the characters inside out, you could put them on Mars and they would still know how to behave. Authenticity was essential. These are bourgeois women from Split in their late fifties, whose lives largely take place inside their flats. I had no interest in postcard images of the Adriatic. The characters determined the locations.

The women drive the film, while the men remain largely in the background. How does this dynamic relate to the broader patriarchal structures in Croatia?
I would call it a patriarchal matriarchy. Women do everything, including traditionally male work, while the men parasitically benefit from it in the background. Both husbands are passive in different ways. Tonina’s husband reinforces everything she says, while Tajana’s rejects work almost as a philosophical position, as a dictate of contemporary capitalism. The nephew is more active because he is closest to my own experience and still has the illusion that he can change things.

The film also touches on one of the sacred cows of the Croatian economy: tourism. Why was it important to bring that into the story?
I have nothing against tourism. I travel myself, take cheap flights and stay in Airbnb properties. What interests me is what an economy so dependent on tourism does to our mentality. In Croatia, it affects family relationships, particularly around property and inheritance. Everyone says family is the most precious thing in life, but is that really true? Or is family precious only until something more profitable comes along?

You developed Honey Bunny through several workshops and pitching forums. What did that process provide you with?
It’s a double-edged sword. You meet great mentors and filmmakers at the same stage, but too many workshops can turn your screenplay into a Frankenstein of different influences. First Films First was the most useful for me because it helped me understand what the movie should become. Sofia Meetings and Connecting Cottbus were valuable on the production side, connecting the project with potential co-producers and the wider European industry.

It’s been several months since the world premiere at IFFR, followed by the Golden Arena win at Pula. What kind of audience reactions have stayed with you?
People often approach me after screenings because they recognise their own families in it. In Croatia, audiences tend to split into two camps, each defending one sister. There is also an ideological dimension. Tonina represents something closer to capitalism, building and protecting individual wealth, while her sister stands for a more socialist idea of community and the common good. In that sense, the conflict is no longer just about a house, but about different worldviews.