All language subtitles for Scream.for.Me.Sarajevo.2017.DOCU.720p.MBLURAY.x264-HDMUSiC

My name is Jasenko Pašić.

I was too young during the war
to be interested.

In 2008, I got a job as an actor
at the Sarajevo War Theatre

which was very exciting for me
because I started discovering

completely new dimensions
of life under the siege.

This is one such story.

IN BOSNIAN CULTURAL CENTRE
AT 1800 - 14 DECEMBER 1994

You can't escape war.

The war is there.
You can only hide in some corner.

I think I was at the Obala club
when somebody picked me up,

told me there was a concert.
So I took my film rolls and went.

The concert passed
in a sort of haze.

That's why I probably took
so many photos.

I surely wouldn't have used
seven rolls of film

had it not been for the energy
and the madness.

I might have used
my last seven rolls.

The entire atmosphere
with the audience and all that

took me back to different times,
to a life I lived before

and the things I did before the war.

I come from a normal family,

from an inter-ethnic marriage,

a concept unknown to me
at the time.

My mother was
an Orthodox Christian

and my father was a Muslim.

It feels weird
to think about it now,

some 21 or 22 years later.

To think, as a mature man,
about what was in your head at 14.

My mother wanted me to be
a nice boy,

but I discovered rock 'n' roll,
I started to grow my hair

and wear Statement t-shirts.

Watching American films,
I had two versions of my life dream:

to drive motorbikes and trucks
or possibly to fix them.

My mum had a different ambition.

She never wanted her child
to get his hands dirty.

So my second option
was the arts.

There began my wandering
between the two.

Hi, Vanja, I just arrived.

Hey!

We were kids.
Feda Štukan was the popular one.

He was like... so cool.
But we were always friends.

Before the war, Sarajevo lived

like it does today during
the Sarajevo Film Festival.

That's how it used to live
every day.

Next to Hotel Beograd,
Hotel Bosnia now,

that street and the whole square
were packed with people.

You couldn't walk in front of
the National Theatre

because of all the cafes
and people.

I got into
computers and drawing early on,

as I noticed I could get a lot
from both computers and pencils.

I was quiet and shy,
I was staying at home a lot.

I was reading,
watching SF movies, drawing,

and that was my world.

Until the war came.

When the war came,
we thought it would soon be over.

We wanted to play,
buy new records, albums.

But it was no longer possible.

Another life started for us,
in the underground.

Hello!

It was Eid.

There was a party so I got out
with a case of dark Laško beer.

I got in my Fiat
and by the time I got home,

my police station
had already fallen.

There had been some roadblocks

and they sorted it out
in two to three days.

I thought it was
another foolish incident.

Honestly, none of us expected
real war to start the next day,

and people to start dying.

At first,
we were excited. "School is out."

"Yay, no school. Why?"

"Some kind of a mess."

"What mess?" Our crew from
Marijin Dvor went to find out.

There were some protests
and petition signing.

They collected signatures
for peace, for YuTel TV.

We knew some shit was going on,

but we thought
it was nothing serious.

We are not giving
our Bosnia away!

I have an older sister.
She went out that day.

When she got back home,
she said there was a lot of turmoil,

some shooting and unrest
in front of the Army Hall.

Suddenly, a beautiful sunny day
turned into hell.

Nobody knew
there would be a war.

This is where the frontline was,
some 50 metres from my house.

It was the frontline
in this part of the city

and we were right on it,
totally unaware. At least, I was.

Then the shelling of the city
and the snipers started,

and the killing of
so many children and people.

You walk around the city,
see everything torn down.

Many buildings were set on fire.

I saw Sutjeska cinema
burned down to the ground.

Everything is filthy
and torn down.

The department store was
also destroyed.

Trees were cut down.

I saw an old woman, a farmer,
walking around with a cow.

In the middle of Titova Street.

It was a cultural shock for me.

In the capital city I grew up in,

I see a cow in Titova Street.

The worst for me
was the winter of 1992,

November or December.

My mum was making a fire
on the balcony to make us lunch.

The smoke was getting
in her eyes, making her cry.

She didn't know what to do.
It was a struggle just to live.

I was 14 and didn't really know
how to help her.

The normal life you had was gone,
nothing was normal any more.

When this evil started in 1992,
we couldn't understand it.

We were too young to understand
why the shit started.

We took it as
the worst horror imaginable.

To me the greatest shock was

the systematic burning
of buildings.

Even then, as a 14-year-old kid,
I could not understand

why they were burning down
Zetra sports hall, for example.

You realise it has
nothing to do with...

That something else is at stake.

You realise they're
burning down Vijećnica,

the Olympic Museum,
all the things we were proud of.

From 1984 to 1992,
everybody from Sarajevo,

every Bosnian and honestly,
every Yugoslav was proud of

the Olympic Games
that took place here.

I only knew that
they came, surrounded Sarajevo

and started shooting at us.

As my mother was an Orthodox,
they started calling our house.

They threatened her
and told her to leave the house

and the Muslim
she was living with

as well as her children,
and to cross to their side.

Then you realise
it is not a dream.

I remember running
under sniper fire and shells.

I went all over the city
on my bike.

I felt no fear at all,

until one evening I went to visit
my friend Alma in Breka.

I was going up Dalmatinska Street
when shelling started.

For the first time I felt fear,
a panicked sort of fear.

I started running up Dalmatinska,
trying to hide.

When I felt that fear of shell fire,

I realised the war and terror
had begun.

My brother was shot.

Like all the other kids,
he liked collecting shrapnel.

He didn't listen to our mum and
ran out after the first shell.

The aggressors would fire
the first shell, wait a bit,

then fire a few more when
we'd start removing the wounded.

So when my kid brother,
nine-and-a-half years younger,

jumped out with a friend
to collect shrapnel,

a shell fell
between his friend's legs.

It's unclear how the kid survived.

My brother got hit
on both of his legs.

Wounded and covered in blood,
he ran up the stairs,

as we lived on the 4th floor.
Mum met him on the 2nd.

That was the big moment,
when I saw my brother wounded.

It's different
when other people get hurt,

when it's not happening to you.

But when it is somebody
close to you,

like my brother was
to me...

He was small, innocent,
unprotected, and injured.

That's when the war
started in me.

It was either
surrendering to it and go nuts

or accepting things as they were,
stand up straight

and do the right thing
at the right moment.

I had a house, a homeland.
It was my duty to defend it.

It was my honour.

We had some phones,

we would occasionally talk
with someone from the other side.

Once, we talked with some buddies
we knew from school,

our friends, until recently.

They called a few times,
warning us

that in the next two days,
the situation would worsen,

with heavier shelling,

as some volunteers were coming
from Montenegro or Serbia

and they were going
to unleash hell,

so we needed to be careful.

There were so many shells.

Once, I went out and saw
some dead birds in the street.

There were so many shrapnel
fragments and bullets in the air

that all the birds were shot
dead and laying on the ground.

Not much to say. 1992 was a shock,

an adjustment
to the new situation.

You simply decide,

"OK, there we are,
so, let's live our lives

the best way we can."

So we were left to organise
new living arrangements.

For us that meant
some sort of war schools.

People were sent to the army
or had wartime work duty.

When you start war school,
you get a timetable.

Thunder from above and from
all sides, and you attend classes,

trying to learn stuff
and pass a test.

Both young and old, we said,

"It won't ruin our lives,
break our spirit.

"You won't stop me
from going to school,

doing a concert,
even if it kills me."

But in 1993,
some sort of "normal" life began.

But it was that.
Anyone will say so.

Theatre plays started
at the Chamber Theatre.

People threw concerts
at Sloga and Obala.

Things were organised
in basements,

any area that was safe.

The culture we had during
the war will never happen again.

People were without money,
but did things from the heart.

We wanted to show those monkeys
that we were living our lives.

It was a great risk.

I remember the premiere
of "Shelter" was announced.

You didn't know where or what.

It was performed in Kabare
at the Youth Theatre

and they were shelling
the National Theatre.

You couldn't tell what was worse,

that the National Theatre
was being shelled -

luckily, they didn't
burn it down -

or that we created a play.

It was a great risk.

We staged "Hair" in the
Chamber Theatre under candle lights.

SARAJEVO FILM FESTIVAL
AFTER THE WORLD ENDS

That entire period was so great,

except the horrible things.

To me, the entire war period
is the best period of my life,

when God walked the Earth
and people were still normal.

Everything made sense
when you were that close to death.

Everybody lived life to the fullest.

Women also lived thinking...

...a bullet could hit them
any time.

Everybody behaved like
it was their last day.

It was great.

We lived in a parallel world.

We started going out,
going to concerts,

forming bands,
started playing music.

We started living
a regular teenage life.

We'd always carry backpacks
with clean socks, spare clothes

because you never knew
where you'd end up.

Imagine, you buy a guitar and
all you want to do is to play.

It's like having the best toy
in the world,

but it runs on electricity...

...and there's no electricity.

During the war, I brought my guitar
to the shelter with me.

Everything else could burn.

When the electricity came on,

the main focus was to play
as long as possible,

and tape record Headbangers Ball
to check out the new music.

You had to plan and wait.

When it was announced

the electricity was coming
in 10 days, we had to be in that room

and play music
because nothing else mattered.

It was only then that we felt like

ordinary young people at a concert,

where some are watching
and others are playing.

We felt normal during
the couple of hours we played.

I started writing in English then.

The idea was to reach out
to people, to say, "Hello...

What is going on?
What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why aren't you doing something?"

There was
Lezi Majmune, Blago Gluhima, Gnu.

There were several bands
in those basements.

We then got organised.
It was April or May.

A group of local musicians founded

some sort of Rock'n'Roll Association
as a resistance,

to escape the madness.

Then we made the Help Bosnia Now
shows in the Olympic Hall.

Luckily, we had electricity
for his last show

with Iron Maiden.

MTV was covering their sound check
before the last show

of Bruce Dickinson
with Iron Maiden.

We were shocked.
"What will happen?

Where will he go?
What will happen to Iron Maiden?"

It was a pretty big shock.

Maiden was never Maiden to me.

To me, Maiden was always
Bruce Dickinson

and only Bruce Dickinson.

When I saw him on stage
for the first time,

the black contours of
his eyebrows under the lights,

I realised he was the guy I had been
drawing my whole childhood.

That was the main reason
I got to like him.

The most complicated part
was the very beginning.

You'd always go over lgman.

Once we'd reach Hrasnica
and we'd start climbing lgman,

I would often...

For me, Iron Maiden
was the best band in every way

and Dickinson the best singer.

I would often sing
"Run To The Hills".

The people walking with me
had no clue whose song it was

or what it meant,

but it felt good
as they felt my positive energy.

We didn't have enough ammo,
or anything to respond to

all the provocations
and shootings.

I responded with music.

And when my guitarist friend was
with me, we could play and sing.

That was great.

My band got really fucked
during the war.

In 1992, Aris, our singer
and guitar player,

was shot in the head
by a sniper.

Luckily, they immediately
took him to the hospital.

They did an operation
and saved him.

At the same time,
our drummer got hit by a shell.

A huge chunk of shrapnel
got lodged into his thigh bone.

They managed to save his leg.

As the days went by,
weekend after weekend,

we were all getting together,

but it was quite noticeable
when somebody was missing.

Bad news travelled fast.

Basically, one by one,
we kept falling.

At that time, we were all certain
we were going to die.

NOT TO BE FORGOTTEN,
NOT TO BE REPEATED - NERMIN DIVOVIĆ

It was such a coincidence,
but also destiny.

One of my neighbours,

who lived exactly
right across from me,

and worked during the war as a driver
for UNHCR and UNICEF,

had heard that
a rock star was coming.

A lot of people came to mind.

At that time many stars found it
interesting to come here.

I thought maybe Elton John
or Mick Jagger.

I saw him one morning
before he went to work

and I asked him,
"Did you ask who's coming?"

He said, "Some Dickinson guy."

I got the chills
when he said that.

I said, "Dickinson who?"

He says, "I don't know,
some guy from an English band.

One of those
metalheads of yours."

I asked, "Bruce Dickinson?"

"That's the one."

He said he was off
to some fieldwork in Sarajevo,

and I told him I was coming with him
even if it cost me my head.

SARAJEVO BRIGADE DOCTOR

The war was in an advanced stage
and it was clear

that it wouldn't end in seven days.
My beard grew this big.

The only thing you wished
was for the war to end.

But when the guy came and said

that Dickinson was coming
to town to play,

at that moment
the war had ended for me.

We were rehearsing
the day they called us

and said Bruce Dickinson
was coming that afternoon

and that we would be
the supporting act.

We heard that Bruce Dickinson
from Iron Maiden was coming

and that was so funny
and weird to us.

The guy is coming in the middle
of the war to play.

He's either crazy or they gave him
a hundred million pounds.

The first thing I remember
is the press conference.

I had a Chronic bandana on my head,
with a cannabis leaf.

At the time when Dickinson came to do
the concert, the scene was insane.

The number of bands,
artists, the range of music

that Radio Zid was playing
was really fascinating.

It was like
in the best of times,

not ours, but in Europe
and around the world.

I get the chills
when I talk about this.

We believed there was
some sort of cosmos

connecting people and telling
the story of Sarajevo.

As days went by,
people talked more and more about it.

"Bruce is coming."
But all of it was a bit secretive.

Somebody said he was shot dead
somewhere on Trebević mountain.

Nobody had any info
about any concert.

A friend called me at 5pm

and asked if I'd heard about
Dickinson's concert that night.

I said, "Somebody's playing
a joke on you."

He says, "I'm serious."
I ask, "Who else is playing?"

He says he doesn't know
but he's going there now.

Tickets are available somewhere,
but they are free of charge.

ROCK SARAJEVO
WITH BRUCE DICKINSON

"Does anybody know?
Has anybody heard anything?"

Nobody knows a thing.
"Let's go to BKC."

The concert will start early
because of the curfew.

Mickinson... Something...

When I heard these syllables,
I said, "What?"

I was inviting friends
to a concert,

but it was still a secret.

We announced it
just a few hours before the start.

It was a high-risk event.

Could it possibly be
Bruce Dickinson?

"Yeah, that's the guy.
He's coming."

No way, man.

Nobody knew anything
about the concert.

We went to get tickets
and along the way

we invited everybody we met
to come to the concert.

When I told my commander, he said

there was no way I could leave
my position, it was crazy.

"What concert? Are you crazy?
There's a war, blah, blah."

I told him, "I've informed you,

I'll do my guard duty
all morning,

but an hour before the concert
I'm out of here."

People kept on coming.

I remember us sitting in that
small park opposite BKC.

We were checking
who else was coming

and sharing
a bottle of Napoleon.

As we got closer to the entrance,
we were still in disbelief.

Everything seemed
so endlessly far away.

Halfway towards Sarajevo
we were stopped

and we were told it was
impossible to go further.

A man said they wouldn't let
us through, even at our own risk,

because fighting
was taking place.

I said nothing,
but I was very sad.

On the trip back to Mostar,

I didn't even care
about arriving.

That man has been
in my life since I was 10.

And there he was,
in the hardest moments of my life,

coming to my city,
under such circumstances.

Utterly impossible.

But if the war was possible
and it materialised,

why wouldn't that be possible?

God is almighty.

After the first couple of beats,
Dickinson comes on stage.

I was astonished.

I couldn't believe it was really
happening. He was really here.

I think that was one of
the most beautiful things

that happened during
this evil war.

When they announced him,
people started rushing forward,

climbing the seating area.

We were crowded in that space,
which wasn't big enough.

We were on the chairs and
on top of each other's shoulders.

An explosion of pure energy,
which the band also felt.

For me the highlight was
shaking his hand.

He asked me what it was like
to be on the frontline.

I fell completely silent.

I just shook his hand
and said thank you.

It was spectacular
when Bruce came out to the stage.

The lights were top class.

When Alex, the drummer,
came on stage shirtless,

the girls started screaming.

Long hair, proper stage,
a true rock concert.

When Bruce
started playing, it was like...

Another planet.

Like a spaceship descending.

If someone outside could
have been there to film it,

I think we'd have seen a yellow light
shining out from BKC

directly into space.

There was an instant connection
with the positive energy,

the only bright spot in Sarajevo
at that moment of war.

The people inside were
completely oblivious

to the situation outside.

There was no war.

For those few hours,
there was no war for me.

The great thing was

that everyone knew each other
and trusted each other.

We were in a great situation.

"Fuck!
We are at Bruce's concert!"

The main story was, "Fuck it,

if we all die tomorrow,
Bruce is here, man."

It was spectacular.

The U2 concert in Sarajevo
was nothing compared to this.

All that money, the big stage,
and all the lights are in vain.

You just had to be there.

We stepped out
after the concert was over

and felt extremely sad
because it was over.

You wished it had lasted longer.

You go back to the cruel reality
in which you live in.

I looked at the clear,
starry sky and thought

that perhaps somewhere out there
normal life exists.

SALVATION TUNNEL HOUSE KOLARA

The way they got to Sarajevo,
how the concert happened

and how we all got there
is absolutely crazy...

I guess it's life, and together
we have conquered death.

For me and my friends

the only true ambassador
in the war was Dickinson

and the most important event
that happened was the concert.

I thank him for that.
He conveyed a message.

"Hold on,
this won't last much longer."

After that, we all got inspired
to pursue music even more.

My band started
to be more involved.

We started doing gigs
all the time.

Amer also founded his own band.
They named it The Rain,

in reference to the rain
of shells we endured every day.

It was the summer of 1995
when he was called up.

When they all got into a truck,
he was the last one to go.

He was reluctant to go.
And he never came back.

Every time I come here
I leave a guitar pick.

Good evening, Sarajevo.