On the railway line between Knin and Zadar, the small station of Benkovac seems empty, deserted, abandoned. No train has stopped there for almost ten years. But Zvonko, an employee of the Croatian Railways, works there every day.
Directed by Melita Vrsaljko
Cinematography: Jurica Markovic
Sound: Martin Semenčić
Editing: Martin Semenčić
Production: Tena Trstenjak, Tena Gojic, Dinaridi Film, Croatian Audiovisual Centre
Interview
Melita Vrsaljko Filmmaker
“My film a much deeper story
than it at first glance.”
- Can you introduce yourself in a few words, Melita?
I was born and raised in southern Croatia and graduated with a degree in journalism in 2018. I worked as a TV journalist for a few years and am currently working as a journalist at Faktograf, the first fact-checking media outlet in Croatia, where I report on environmental protection and human rights issues.
A few years ago, I moved from the city back to my home village, where I now work remotely and enjoy life in the Mediterranean.
- Zvonko the stationmaster is none other than your father. How did this film come about?
I’ve always wanted to tell a story about the where I grew up, a place that means a lot to me. One afternoon I visited my father at work and saw how bored he was. The station where he works is the same place where he me as a child I spent of my childhood there and feel a strong emotional connection to it. when I realized the story had been me all along. My father happily agreed to be part of the and enjoyed the process.
“After the film premiered, people recognized my father’s acting talent, and he’s since been offered several minor roles in films.”
- We wait, we wait, the shadows stretch out… but no train arrives.
You film boredom, with long, motionless shots, yet we’re not bored. Can you tell us about your narrative choices?
film At first I considered including an interview with my father, but I realized that might not achieve the effect I was going for. My cinematographer, Jurica Marković, has a great eye for visuals. When I saw his shots, I felt that nothing more was needed. The is like a short visual and poetic postcard from my region, and it a much deeper story than it at first glance.
- How did you come up with the idea for the music at the end? And why this music in particular?
I wanted to add something at the end to lighten the mood a bit, something that would serve as a kind of personal touch. Initially, I wasn’t sure which song to use. My editor and I played around with a Goran Bare song during the editing process, just for fun, while considering other options. Over time, I realized it was the perfect choice. The singer talks about a train that’s coming, even though we know it’s not going to arrive.
- Your film tells the story of a bygone era in Croatia. Is your father nostalgic, sad to see his station, his line disappear after him?
Yes, he’s very saddened by how it all ended. He felt useless in his job and, at the same time, too old to change careers and find new work. His situation is absurd, and he’s fully aware of that.
But the story has a happy ending. After our film resonated with the Croatian public, Croatian Railways initiated a project to restore the line. The construction will be completed in a few years, after my father retires.
Interestingly, after the film premiered, people recognized my father’s acting talent, and he’s since been offered several minor roles in films. So in a way, this film has opened up new opportunities for him.
- As a journalist, you observe Croatian society on a daily basis.
What does your film say about Croatia today?
My film reflects on the remnants of a different Croatia, a country that once had good opportunities but missed them.
After the collapse of Yugoslavia and the Homeland War in the 1990s, Croatian industry—much of which had been developed under the former system—began to decline rapidly. Today, we rely too heavily on tourism. Since joining the EU, many young people have emigrated. On top of that, Croatia is politically stagnant. The ruling party is working to dismantle many of our democratic values. Nationalism is on the rise—my region is covered with Nazi graffiti, failed regimes from World War II are glorified in public spaces, and the government does nothing to stop it. Life in the country has become unaffordable for many ordinary citizens.
I often think about leaving because I believe Croatia has lost its moral compass.