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LOCARNO 2025 Compétition

Ivana Mladenović • Réalisatrice de Sorella di Clausura

“Ce n'est pas juste la réalité ou la fiction, mais cette terre du milieu où les deux se réunissent pour former quelque chose qui ne peut plus être scindé”

par 

- La réalisatrice serbe-roumaine nous parle de son quatrième long-métrage, qui suit une jeune femme complexée dans sa quête de bonheur, en temps de crise

Ivana Mladenović • Réalisatrice de Sorella di Clausura
(© Locarno Film Festival/Ti-Press)

Cet article est disponible en anglais.

After studying Law in Belgrade, Ivana Mladenović moved to Romania, earning a BA and MA in Film Directing from Bucharest’s National School of Film and Theatre. Her feature-length films have premiered or won awards at festivals such as Tribeca, Toronto, San Sebastián, Locarno and Sarajevo. Her latest, Sorella di Clausura [+lire aussi :
critique
interview : Ivana Mladenović
fiche film
]
, adapted from Liliana Pelici’s memoir, had its premiere in the main competition of the Locarno Film Festival.

Cineuropa: Your previous film, Ivana the Terrible [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : Ada Solomon
fiche film
]
, was quite autobiographical (or auto-fictional). Is this one based on reality as well, despite the title card stating that it is not based on true events? At another point, you say that the characters are inspired by real people.
Ivana Mladenović:
Sorella di Clausura is based on Liliana Pelici’s autobiographical manuscript, but no film can represent the complete truth. The title card is kind of a pre-emptive wink: yes, it draws from real people and events, but turning life into cinema inevitably bends and shapes it. Editing for whatever reason – privacy, pacing or clarity – already moves it beyond pure reality, and it’s only honest not to call it that. The aim with the card isn’t to deny truthfulness, but rather to shift the audience’s gaze – from fact-checking to experiencing an emotional and thematic truth that may be even more real.

How do you see the relationship between fiction and reality?
It’s hard to describe in a few words, but referring to this film and my previous work with writer Adrian Schiop, it’s not just reality or just fiction; it’s that middle ground where both come together to create something that can’t be separated any more.

Is your character’s pursuit of happiness a real, palpable, universal thing?
Stela is a complex character that might seem naive at first – like she’s waiting for a prince charming – but as the story unfolds, we see her grow, deeply aware of her reality. She knows exactly where she stands, yet she clings to her illusions as a vital condition for living. Through her sharp humour and biting self-deprecation, she made me relate to that. Set in the Balkans during the short economic boom just before the 2008 economic crisis, the movie explores how to keep up when the ground beneath you is shifting faster than you can.

On another note, you also deal with the cultural ties between Serbia and Romania, and you are in a unique position to do so.
I grew up on the Danube in Serbia, right on the border with Romania. It was, and is, a unique environment where cultures and identities from both sides constantly mixed. During Ceaușescu’s time, Romanian television had very few channels, but along the Danube, people could pick up Serbian radio and TV signals. Many Romanians I’ve spoken to remember growing up watching shows like Laku noć deco, which we also watched.

For their parents, the former Yugoslavia often seemed like a promised land, and many risked their lives crossing the Danube to escape. Families like Anca Pop’s made their way first to Serbia, and then to Canada. In refugee camps, they encountered Serbian music, which they often described as a sound that symbolised freedom.

Do you see yourself more as a part of Serbian or as a part of Romanian cinema?
This year marks exactly 20 years since I left for my studies and stayed in Romania – that’s half my life so far. I like to think of myself as belonging to both places. My childhood and early film influences are deeply tied to Serbia, while my professional life has been shaped by working in Romania with artists from there. It’s impossible to separate those two worlds, and I’m sure the collaborations over the years have left their mark on me.

Yet your style differs greatly from the Romanian New Wave...
In a way, I’d say my biggest influence comes from the Serbian Black Wave. I’ve probably watched When I Am Dead and Gone at least 30 times. At the same time, working on films like If I Want to Whistle, I Whistle [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : Ada Condeescu
fiche film
]
and taking part in Florin Șerban’s acting workshop had a profound impact on me. His approach to working with non-professional actors was something that inspired me deeply – though at the time I didn’t fully realise how much it would shape my own work later on.

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