Hungarian Romani activist and filmmaker Katalin Bársony returns to Sarajevo’s Documentary Competition after 2019’s How Far the Stars [+leggi anche:
trailer
intervista: Katalin Bársony
scheda film] with her new film, I Saw a ‘Suno’. A cinematically rich, emotional and topical picture exploring issues of displacement, identity and injustice, it was filmed over a period of 15 years, following the harrowing story of a Romani family caught between a labyrinth of European regulations, and the chaos and lawlessness of wartime and post-war Kosovo.

Our hero is Nasmi, the youngest son of the Hasani family, whom we first meet in Hannover in 2023. This means we know how the story ends, but it doesn’t make the journey any less interesting or painful. In 2009, Nasmi, his slightly older brother Sedat and their mother are repatriated to Kosovo, which they had fled in 1999, after the end of Kosovo War. The thing is, Nasmi was born in Germany, and both he and Sedat barely speak Romani, and no Albanian or Serbian at all. The father and the eldest brother, Vedat, are allowed to stay under strict observation, always having to prove that they can support themselves – so Vedat is juggling four jobs while studying and playing football for a local team.

The first section of the film provides historical and political context. When full-on war broke out in Kosovo, their mahala in Mitrovica, traditionally a Serbian stronghold, was burned to the ground. Throughout the Balkan wars of the 1990s, the Romani were a minority among minorities, and in Kosovo, neither Serbs nor Albanians accept them as their own. So, when they end up in a camp for internally displaced people in Leposavić, joining the boys’ grandmother, whom they have never met before, they lose everything. The conditions in the camp are appalling, and the trio start their desperate attempts to get back to Germany. A legal expert explains that Europe employs such strategies to get whole families of unwanted immigrants out while barely holding to its much-touted but enragingly hypocritical human rights policies.

Most of the film takes place between 2009 and 2013, and we witness their demoralising, unsuccessful visa applications, with them trying out fake visas and employing human traffickers to get them out. Having only enough money for two people, Sedat and Mother manage to reach Germany, leaving Nasmi behind. Soon, Bársony loses contact with him and embarks on a search.

Strong emotions drive the film, many tears are shed, and dreams are shattered. Indeed, Suno means “dream” in Romani, and using it in the title underlines the authenticity and avoids what would frankly sound rather corny in English. As the film travels between Mitrovica, Leposavić, Priština and Hannover, between winter and summer, we get a variety of visual experiences that follow the emotional rollercoaster that Nasmi and his family are on. The repatriated part of the Hasanis’ plight is obvious, but the quieter experience of the helplessness of those who stayed behind is no less heart-breaking.

The rich visuals are strengthened by an expansive score coming from Hungary’s József Balázs and Turkey’s Burak Malçok. The latter plays the ney, a type of Middle Eastern flute, in mournful, minor keys, providing some ethnic colour that can be associated with Romani music, but it’s subtler than some obvious choices like a brass orchestra. The score, varying from sad notes towards more hopeful inflections, almost blankets the film, which might be too much for some viewers.

I Saw a ‘Suno’ is a co-production between Hungary’s Romedia and Baxt Films, and Belgium’s Visible Film.