THE STORY – Agata travels from Sydney to Sarajevo to write a war novel, but as she gathers material, she is challenged by locals who question her motives. Her creative uncertainty growing, she sees a startling mystery unfold: some provocative and obscene artworks inexplicably vanish. As Agata reads the first chapters of her new novel, it becomes clear that the story is not about the war itself, but about the quiet, very human moments of resilience that persist in its shadow. During her stay in Sarajevo, Agata has developed a deeper understanding of the act of storytelling and the profound responsibilities that come with being a storyteller.
THE CAST – Mia Wasikowska, Vedrana Božinović, Selma Alispahić, Mia Morrissey, Admir Glamočak, Zoran Jevtic, Hatidža Ćorić & Kuba Dorabialski
THE TEAM – Kuba Dorabialski (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 95 Minutes
Who is allowed to tell certain stories, especially ones relating to traumatic moments in history? Should that responsibility fall to those who experienced those events, or can outsiders do a good enough job of sharing those tales? Those are the ideas at play in Kuba Dorabialski’s meta feature debut “Agata the Writer,” which follows an Australian-Polish author who arrives in Sarajevo hoping to write a story about the Bosnian War. It starts promisingly, with Agata facing the film’s core questions through her writing, but as it progresses, it takes a different direction that, though clever and well done, essentially runs counter to what it advocates.
Agata (Mia Wasikowska) is a disillusioned writer searching for new ideas. When she’s offered an opportunity to house-sit in Sarajevo, she eagerly accepts, giving her the chance to research an idea she has about a book set during the Bosnian War. The drab, grey winter setting isn’t the most welcoming, but an accompanying gentle string score mirrors her excitement about the prospect. Well, until she starts speaking with the locals, including theater director Jasmina (Vedrana Božinović) and train station worker Ismeta (Selma Alispahić), who tell her it’s a bad idea to write anything about the war. What does she know about the atrocities that were committed in the 1990s, resulting in the breakup of Yugoslavia, the deaths of tens of thousands of people, and a genocide that killed more than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys? These people have relived and told their stories countless times to journalists, historians, and lawyers, but using their reality as a literary device is cheap and disgusting. Agata has to take all these conversations in stride, with the always great Wasikowska showing her character’s confidence breaking.
Those conversations make her question her own motives and story, with frequent shots of her sitting at the computer trying to make sense of her idea. Meanwhile, many strange things happen in the home she’s staying in that, for whatever reason, Dorabialski doesn’t provide much insight into. When she first arrives, she’s taken aback by a giant painting in the living room of a woman doing her No. 2 business, but then a few days later it disappears. Other items, such as a vase shaped like human excrement, are also stolen. No clues are given about who may be entering the house, who knows she’s staying there, or why they’re taking those items in particular. Some people she meets are a little weird as well, like an older man who yearns for his dead wife and daughter, but keeps himself busy by flipping through a magazine with a woman taking a (you know what) on the cover. (What’s up with all the poop in this movie? Is Dorabialski trying to say that Bosnians are into that stuff?) As Jasmina and Agata leave the man’s apartment, the Balkan woman is furious at what happened because she doesn’t want things like that to represent the region to an outsider. In a way, Dorabialski is more or less doing the same when he offers no explanation for these instances and just moves the story along like it’s a normal occurrence.
Things get even more meta when Agata and her pal/editor Davina (Mia Morrissey) discuss her book more intensely after she’s had a successful night of inspiration. Suddenly, the screen goes black with gentle music, and Agata reappears, only now she’s standing in a dark room and looking directly into the camera. She begins reciting the first chapter of her book, titled “The Responsibility,” which follows Janek (played by Dorabialski himself and shown briefly at the start of the film), a widower living in France with his young daughter. With Wasikowska looking at us unflinchingly, she tells the story of this man, his work as a boom operator, his loving relationship with his daughter, and their journey to her grandmother’s home near the Swiss border, in the remaining 30 minutes of the film. At times, the screen shows exterior shots of buildings and nature as Agata reaches those points in her story, and the score mimics/accents her speech with piano and bass tones. To say it’s quite a vibe shift from everything that came before it is an understatement.
But this section of the film brings about both clever and frustrating aspects of this film. On the one hand, the story that she’s telling, which eventually ties back to Bosnia and outsiders involved in memorializing the war, connects to Agata’s initial journey with her novel, as well as Dorabialski’s task of making this film, which is likely why he portrays Janek. It’s super meta and tells the same story in three different ways (Dorabialski’s, Agata’s, and Janek’s), which is skillfully done and downright cool. On the other hand, one can’t help but feel let down by the overall direction. Dorabialski, smartly, didn’t make a film about the Bosnian War, but he also didn’t really make one that paints much of a picture of this country.
Visually, it doesn’t immerse you in the area, aside from shots of Agata walking in the street or visiting a nearby mountain village. The tense conversations she has with the locals cast them in an unfriendly light, and one could argue they don’t offer much insight into their lives. When she’s chatting with Ismeta, in particular, the woman says she’s recited her story so many times that it feels like a performance, knowing exactly when to pause for dramatic effect. Most of Agata’s conversations with the locals feel much like that too. Agata tries to go deeper with Jasmina, who she spends the most time with and who shares more about her family’s move to Vienna during the war years, but because she was away from the conflict, even she can’t give us much more information about that difficult time. Even when Dorabialski briefly focuses on her home life, showing us a mundane phone conversation with her mother, it’s yet another strange addition to an already weird movie rather than something substantial.
Ultimately, viewers won’t walk away gaining anything new about Bosnia (aside from questioning all the poop stuff). This film could have picked any other war-ravaged country as its setting, and it would have worked just the same. But one could say all of those “wrongs” were intentional decisions made by Dorabialski to show how he, an outsider in this situation, isn’t the best person to tell a story about the war, so he pivoted to one he could better relate to. Either way, it’s disappointing to use trauma and tragedy as a narrative device and not do it justice, and to leave a film with so many loose ends.
“Agata the Writer” is a strange film in so many ways, but it also brings up interesting ideas and conversations. Tackling topics such as authorship, artistic responsibility, and storytelling, this film starts off in a fascinating way and offers relatable commentary in today’s age where it seems like anyone can say and write anything they want. But when it shifts to its stark final third, the cracks in Dorabialski’s story really begin to show. It may not be a home run, but given that this is a layered and complex film, it shows a lot of promise with Dorabialski.
