In 1992 when former Yugoslavia was being ravaged by a devastating civil war, the wave of refugees that had spilled all over Europe reached as far as Denmark. With existing refugee camps filled to the brim, the Red Cross came up with an ingenious solution to tug a decommissioned ocean liner into a canal near Copenhagen. Soon renamed fittingly to Flotel Europa, this floating refugee camp became a temporary home to hundreds of refugees for several months or even years.
Among them was a 12-year-old boy, Vladimir Tomić, who fled Sarajevo along with his mother and older brother. More than 20 years later he decided to tell us his own personal refugee story. But, unlike one would expect, the film does not focus on the horrors of war or the reasons for emigration. The beauty of it is exactly in the fact that even though it paints the portrait of a refugee who does not belong, it looks at it through the eyes of a child that gladly fits anywhere as long as it feels safe. It does not look back to the terrible past or the uncertain future; instead, it fully focuses on the one timeline that truly matters – the present. More than anything, it is the story of first affection, but also that of finding friends and father figures, trying first alcohol and cigarettes, listening to rebel music and first erotic notions.
Virtually all video footage has been taken from personal VHS recordings made by “passengers” of Flotel Europa that document everyday life on the ship. These home videos of the period show primarily the triteness and triviality of everyday life on the ship; it is Tomić’s storytelling that provides the necessary emotional depth. But although the story is told from the standpoint of a naïve boy, the distance of two decades also allows the viewer to see the difficulties of living in this one-of-a-kind refugee camp.
By Adam Straka
Translated by Daniel Borský