A grotesque yet irresistible story of a small-town clash between two incompatible, mutually exclusive worldviews has aged with dignity over the slightly more than half a century that separates us from its premiere. This is, therefore, an excellent opportunity, while remaining faithful to the manuscript and spirit of the late master, to try and see how and to what extent our world has changed since then. Have Smoje’s heroes been consigned to history, or are they still here among us, dictating the rhythm of our daily lives with the same blind fervor—albeit with somewhat less of their original charm?
“Were the two of us making history?” Roko Prč—waiter, war veteran, and later hotelier—will ask his wife Anđa at one point. The question is, of course, rhetorical; he merely wants to emphasize their inalienable right to shape the past in their own image and, from it, to derive the privilege of shaping the future. After all, every war—or, more broadly, every conflict—is fought for just that: the right to write history. When a militant believer and a combative atheist face each other, they de jure clash over abstract concepts, hazy questions about the origin of man and the world, but de facto only over the right to write history. If the believer wins, God’s will becomes the measure of all things; if the atheist prevails, the only thing that matters is the will of man.
Miljenko Smoje is usually presented as a great chronicler of Dalmatia, although he never wanted to push himself into the ranks of historians. He knew that sphere was already quite crowded, so instead of writing about great truths, he chose to write about small people. From that marginal, sidelong, skewed perspective, he ultimately managed to reach the very core, to the ultimate questions and answers that consistently elude those who have no ear for nuance or interest in peripheral phenomena and people. That is precisely why Smoje’s work is no less alive today than it was fifty years ago.
His characters are in excellent health, unusually vital, just as narrow-minded, intolerant, and obsessed with the desire for domination as ever. Of course, there are also those who stand aside, who chose to witness the comedy rather than take part in it. You will see both kinds on stage tonight—but also in the audience, sitting right next to you. Perhaps you belong among them yourself, so in fact you will not be watching a play at all, but merely staring into a mirror.
Ivica Ivanišević