BELGRADE (27 page)

In 1945 the Communist Party of Yugoslavia intended to run the country according to the models and lessons of the Soviet Union. It appointed a commissar to oversee artistic production and to ensure that it conformed to the norms of a socialist society: in short, literature, painting, cinema and music existed in order to promote Marxist ideology and the creation of communism.

The first holder of the post was Radovan Zogović (1907–86), although from the beginning there were differences between standard Soviet interpretations on how these goals might be best achieved and the Yugoslav practice. The events of 1948 set the Yugoslav communists on a different path, allowing greater diversity—so long as the taboos were respected. Artists were too important to be left to their own devices. One of the consistent features of dictatorships and one-party states is their awareness of the power of art as a producer of meanings. Art does not just reflect what exists in reality, but is also a medium for the articulation of that reality. In this very important sense, it actually constructs an idea of the current possibilities of the imagination. Art is an important feature in the processes of how a society sees itself, what it wants to say about itself and the kinds of images which it mirrors back to itself. The control of the range of meanings available for consumption and exchange, in other words culture, remained within the unspoken remit of government until the end of communism.

In the early days poets and others known to be opponents of communism were publicly criticized and vilified; their works were not studied in schools and universities and went unpublished, and their names and voices were simply not heard. Miloš Crnjanski was a writer whose pre-war rightwing views were no secret. He spent the war years in London and preferred to remain in exile rather than risk returning to Belgrade in 1945. He was attacked by his former friend Marko Ristić as a “dead poet”, a metaphor which may easily have been made literal had he dared to appear in Belgrade.

As the years went by, however, the party’s policies on cultural matters changed. Crnjanski became a visitor to the Yugoslav Embassy in London, overtures were made for him to return, his books were published again, his influence on Serbian literature was discussed and his works were included in school curricula. He eventually returned to Belgrade in 1966. His arrival was an instant event, significant both to the older generation of intellectuals who recalled his presence from before the war and to the students at Belgrade University who saw in him the embodiment of a change in official policy. He lived the rest of his days as a celebrated writer of Serbian Modernism and a classic of twentieth-century literature. The reformed communists in Belgrade found that their relaxed attitude to cultural questions did them more good in the world than it caused problems at home. They were able to point to figures like Crnjanski as evidence of their change of heart and an example of how the Yugoslav system was socialism with a human face.

Most culture did not, in fact, require policing. People were wealthier than their parents had been and the standard of living was increasing during the 1960s and 1970s, so unsurprisingly there was a growing sense of self-confidence in the stability of Yugoslav society. Critical attitudes and images were tolerated within the limits set down by the League of Communists. It was only important for art to be made safe, neutralized, to be a cathartic space for letting off steam. The state helped the process by providing artists with what they usually lacked, some kind of security of employment. Very few writers could earn a living from the sale of their books, so many were given jobs in publishing houses or on editorial boards, providing a regular income. This kind of security was equally important for actors, musicians and painters, if not even more so. State involvement in their activities, guaranteeing the provision of facilities, maintaining permanent employment in large orchestras and theatre companies, was essential in a society and economic system which frowned on income gained from self-employment.

Artists were divided into associations through which they could work, be recognized as a writer or translator, and in particular be registered within the welfare system. Membership also conferred other benefits since the associations were responsible for awarding prizes for contributions in their particular field. The distribution of housing was also channelled through these organizations. The industrial and commercials sectors would invest some of their profits into residential building projects from which employees would be eligible to receive accommodation. But housing built by public funds was made available to the non-commercial sectors through the offices of social or government bodies. Participation in the official associations was hence driven by personal interest as much as by the knowledge of taking part in worthwhile guild activity.

The Association of Writers of Serbia (Udruženje književnika Srbije), for example, is at 7 France Street near Republic Square. The association had an elected president and assorted secretaries responsible for different aspects of the organization. The premises were used for meetings and book promotions. The association distributed money in the form of prizes, funded delegations on official trips to meet writers overseas and held a large international conference every October. The managing board of the association also had access to social housing, and one of its functions concerned the distribution of apartments to writers who met the official criteria. These benefits were a strong incentive to membership. It still exists although there are now other bodies and the arts are more open to market mechanisms as in the West.

Despite patronage, the Association of Writers became a platform for the intellectual opposition to many aspects of the system by the 1980s. Protest meetings were organized and a committee established to protect the rights of its members to free speech; it also often defended writers who were being hounded by the authorities in other republics. The infrastructure established by the regime as a method of quiet control became in communism’s last decade a source of opposition.

When the communists came to power, all areas of public life were subject to scrutiny by the party: not only political and security structures, but also all places where people might meet and exchange ideas. The circulation of anything of aesthetic significance came within this remit, and the wider the possible audience, the greater the care that had to be taken over its dissemination. The communists adopted the tenets of Socialist Realism from the Soviet Union, requiring that the arts play a part in the construction of socialist Yugoslavia and form its citizens into standard bearers for the future. The message of literature, painting and film was to be positive, showing that the ultimate success of the class struggle will wipe away the remnants of the past, that the socialist model of economic and political organization is superior to all others, and that in the Yugoslav context the victory of the Partisans in the Second World War was the first inevitable step in this direction. The emphasis in art was on reproducing this message, not in encouraging stylistic experiments and departures that would only confound what was to be a simple matter of communication. Yet the break with the Soviet Union in 1948 profoundly influenced this approach to cultural politics in Yugoslavia. Socialist Realism, along with other Soviet models, became discredited.

There was no official announcement that the Communist Party’s cultural policy was about to change, but a series of events in the early 1950s heralded a new direction. The painter Petar Lubarda (1907–74) opened his first major exhibition in Belgrade in 1951, an occurrence accepted by many as a crossroads in the development of modern Serbian art. He introduced a bold way of using colour and abstract techniques, emphasizing the autonomous dynamism of painting to express multiple meanings directly or metaphorically. He was joined by others such as Bata Mihailović and Mića Popović who were interested in pushing at the boundaries of aesthetic interpretation and the possibilities of what painting can express.

It was well known that President Tito himself did not care for abstract painting, but these artists broke through onto the international scene and took Serbian art beyond the borders of the country to exhibitions abroad. Their stance also forced the art establishment to revive the work of painters from before the Second World War whom the communists had regarded as decadent. The Museum of Modern Art in New Belgrade has a large collection of these modern masters. This change was happening not just in painting but in all branches of art, and especially in Belgrade. The communist hierarchy made the city the home of its most powerful institutions; it also became home to the newest artistic credos.

One of the factors influencing the new directions in Yugoslav art was the re-opening of contact with cultural trends in Western Europe and North America. After 1951 Belgrade theatre blossomed in the more tolerant and artistically creative atmosphere ushered in when foreign plays were performed. Under the old cultural policy any kind of display of capitalist art was looked on with great suspicion by the authorities. But between 1951 and 1958 the Belgrade Drama Theatre (Beogradsko dramsko pozorište) staged plays by Arthur Miller (
Death of a Salesman
), Tennessee Williams (
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
), John Osborne (
Look Back in Anger
) and other western playwrights. Styles of acting became more adventurous and opened up more expressive possibilities for the stage. The Yugoslav Drama Theatre, under its highly innovative artistic director Bojan Stupica (1910–70), toured abroad with great success, with a review in the Parisian
Le Figaro
praising the ensemble for its “spirit of unity, which acts with a high level of consciousness and emanates dignity”.

The new direction was not all plain sailing and the authorities could react high-handedly if minded. The Belgrade Drama Theatre attempted to put on Samuel Beckett’s
Waiting for Godot
in 1955, but the production was banned. Yet once having tasted a more liberal approach in cultural policy, the artists themselves were not willing to succumb to each official backlash. The play was performed the following year in the newly established theatre, Atelje 212, its first performance in Eastern Europe. Atelje 212 went on to produce plays by Jean-Paul Sartre (
Huis Clos
), Eugene Ionescu (
The Chairs
), Harold Pinter (
The Caretaker
) and other examples of controversial modern drama. The manager of the theatre, Mira Trailović (1924–89), and its literary consultant, Jovan Ćirilov, founded the Belgrade International Theatre Festival (BITEF) in 1967, which has operated every year since then in September. BITEF brings the best of international stage companies to the city, and provides a conduit for Belgrade groups to perform abroad. Many aesthetic barriers were overcome, which was not the case elsewhere in Eastern Europe, and the authorities were forced to reconcile themselves to a certain degree of artistic freedom, provided that political boundaries were not overstepped.

Film, like other art forms, fell under the demands of Socialist Realism and the Soviet model. The Second World War had effectively destroyed what little existed in the way of studio facilities, technical equipment and personnel in Belgrade. Despite these obstacles, after the liberation of Belgrade the communists established a film section, which was to produce documentary films about the war and the first efforts to re-build the country. In 1945 a state film enterprise was founded, taking over control of the funding, production and distribution of film. Although facilities were sparse the Central Committee took the role of film very seriously, with the first studio Avala Film in operation on 15 July 1946. New facilities were concentrated in Belgrade as the federal capital and the urban centre with the greatest infrastructure. The party established a Film City (Filmski grad) on the outskirts of Belgrade at Košutnjak; the first professional school for acting and directing was also opened here, along with another institution for the training of technical staff, and a journal
Film
.

The first movie from Avala Film was called
Slavica
, released in 1947. The action is set in Dalmatia, telling the story of a small resistance group struggling against the occupying forces and against traitors and collaborators. The nucleus of the plot revolving around a small band of heroic Partisans fighting a lonely local battle against much greater odds became staple cinematic fare in the first years of communist rule. Characters in these films were stereotypical depictions of brave guerrilla fighters with impeccable ideological credentials, in complete contrast to the rather vain and stupid Italians, brutal Germans with their military airs, and the domestic traitors, the Četniks and Ustaše, who were deceitful and cowardly by nature. Such films were important in creating a deliberate mythology of the Second World War, presenting a romantic and simplistic version of events as historical truth. They were epic narratives recounting a struggle between contesting forces and the difficult birth of a new country.

The film industry in Belgrade during the 1950s continued to glorify the heroes of the war and post-war reconstruction but also introduced a note of greater depth. Heroes had some flaws, mistakes were made, but the same message ultimately stressed that what was done was necessary at the time. Greater diversity was introduced into the repertoire with light comedies and some careful attempts at portraying contemporary themes.

The split with the Soviet Union ushered in many changes, including consequences for the organization of the film industry in Yugoslavia. One of the main thrusts of the reforms was to hand over a more meaningful role to republic governments. Each republic was duly handed its own studio system, technical facilities and personnel with institutional facilities at the federal level to allow collaboration. Central funding was removed in 1957 and replaced by a tax on tickets as a way of raising revenue to finance the film industry. Nevertheless, government subsidies were available for large, prestigious projects. Foreign films also began to find their way into Belgrade and Yugoslav cinemas as part of the policy to open the door to the West. The influence of Italian Neorealism particularly made itself felt in cinema. The presence of other aesthetic sensibilities and competition from abroad were a force for good in stimulating the cinematic infrastructure at home.