Backbone (Кичма)

starring

scenography & costumes

co-workers

production management

music composer

The main music score: Georgia Brown - The Silent Song

producers

director & screenwriter

The time: A summer night in a year

which may come sooner than we had courage to believe.

The place: A city that we built using our own imagination,

rather than such imagination we had no courage to accept as a possible one.

The latest news: 100,000 tons of gas is poisoning the citizens of Belgrade. Read the news!

The latest news: The world's suicide rate is rising. Read today's papers!

The latest news: 100,000 tons of gas is poisoning the citizens of Belgrade. Read the news!

Is this horrible stench coming from your stokehold?

Maybe someone's rotting in the gutter, and I'm not aware of it.

Come on.

What's up, puppy?

Hallo? It's you, Pavle.

No, you didn't wake me up. When you call, the telephone doesn't ring.

Having such a brother is a great advantage.

Can I feel the stench? Tonight, even over the telephone.

You complicate again. Are the flowers ok?

I can't figure out why is this stench so familiar to me.

What are you doing there, Pavle? You're gonna suffocate!

I was forgetful only for a second. I took a deeper breathe

and my mind got cloudy.

Come in, I'll shut the door.

As a matter of fact, I came to tell you something that you may find interesting.

I know you're into weird things.

I know a young fellow who gets satisfaction by raping the fresh dead bodies of pretty women.

He claims it's a real pleasure. What do you think about it?

Why he would rape them? Do the bodies defend themselves?

Do they scratch, maybe?

That's a medical subject.

She looks so nice being dead.

What should we do, neighbour? Should we escape?

It's the same thing everywhere. There's no use.

Sorry...

Excuse me!

Stay with me for a while.

Sorry, but I have to be at the airport in an hour.

Can I come in?

I am Sandic, your neighbour. They call me Pepi.

I know you.

I've been listening to your lecture about the blood composition of suiciders.

I've seen you, too, at the post office. You work there.

Yes, I put stamps on letters.

I'm sorry if I interrupted you.

I'm trying to remember where have I felt this stench before.

Yes, I never felt such stench before. Ever.

I'm kind of scared because of it.

Is this the blood from people who died in an unnatural way?

I guess it's much more comfortable at your place.

If you don't mind, I'd like to stay here.

I've had enough of my own stench without you.

But if you insist...

Stay, then.

I'm telling you, stay if you want.

Here.

That's right, my boy. We're about to burn the bodies tonight.

I'm explaining this for the hundredth time this evening.

The crematorium must be put into work because our refrigerators are full. And you're against it.

No, you don't understand me.

This stench reminds me about my childhood experience. I recognized it.

You better stop with burning and wait for a proper time.

You know, the tenants are panicking.

You were speaking about that stench from your past.

Yes. In a village near Novi Sad, a man killed his wife,

and then he was stoking the fire with her body.

When the villagers came in, he was putting her remains into the oven.

The people were laughing and making jokes, asking to rent the oven.

I was only a child.

This stench suffocated me.

What's your profession, my boy? - Microbiology.

Then you must be aware that even such case belongs to 1/2 million of similar ones

that pollute the atmosphere. You better have some apples.

Speaking of that, do you know who was the first one to pollute the air?

A cave man, my boy.

A cave man, when he started making fire.

In 1306 in London, a citizen was executed for using coal within the city area.

Today, the air itself is turning into a murderer.

The Earth turns into a trash can.

That's the way it is.

Now, is there any point to split hairs with our own, home-made stench?

Right. You say they're panicking.

That's a matter of psychology rather than microbiology,

and it certainly doesn't belong to the administrative office of a crematorium.

Have an apple. You like women, don't you?

3264 NN.

3264 NN.

There.

As for the memories about the burnt bodies...

To me, they are like pyres where the heros have been burnt on during the old ages.

They'd put the recently killed bodies on the pile, and set up a fire.

You should've seen the burning of the Amazones and their queen Penthesilea.

Pentesilea threw her spear at Achilles, and it broke into pieces after hitting his shield.

She tried to throw another one, but the mighty Achilles killed both her and her horse.

The horse dropped dead, and Penthesilea right next to it.

Achilles removed his helmet, stunned by the unusual beauty of God of war's daughter.

That was the greatest love I know about. Between Achilles and dead Penthesilea.

Overwhelmed by love, Achilles slowly raised dead Penthesilea, move her body away from the battlefield,

and handed off her to Trojans. Can you imagine the thirteen Amazones?

The thirteen prettiest burning bodies.

What kind of smoke that was!

And when the mighty Achilles died, he was just dead.

An ordinary dead body. Like that guy who commited suicide.

An ordinary dead body, my boy.

You were saying about the suicider... - There isn't just one.

There are several here. Check that guy over there.

The one on the left - Ljubomir. You can see his face.

Look what he left behind:

"They forcibly tattooed the name of the village whore on my chest,

"and then, they were laughing and forced me to remove my shirt so that they can read her name.

"After that, they convinced me that this woman is my real mother. Signed, Ljubomir."

The other guy... - No, please.

These are not the cases in the domain of my research.

Let me show you something else, then.

We are here.

Just like a space pyre!

You are confused, my boy.

That's how the things are gonna work when the Chariots of Fire travel the Earth.

Will you get inside as well?

Let me guess: You never thought about it.

You'll take your life away! - Never, my boy! There's no need.

One comes to this world pure. He should be sent back pure, too.

That is why I accept to bury them. I could never be a gravedigger.