At last I saw Arnold Trampe and Lothar Just’s documentary by this title, which is about life in Motovun as perceived by a bunch of locals and foreigners, including myself. As witnessed by my English, I am among the foreigners, of course. It was shown on the film festival a few months back. And it was quite a success. As I have heard from several people in attendance, Ljubica Handjal was the star of the show. Her wisdom about togetherness was appreciated by most. Which is why I was looking forward to this evening’s show. To tell the truth, I was interested in the audience much more than in the film itself. And I hoped that quite a crowd would turn out for the event.

About seventy people showed up this evening. Almost all the protagonists were there together with their families. Klaudio Ivašić was conspicuous by his absence, though. But it was noticeable that none of the people holding any important political position in town were there. The mayor was not there. No-one from the municipal council was there, either. The show was shunned by everyone who is anyone in Motovun. This says quite a bit about the relationship between the locals and foreigners, but enough said. Most surprising, the audience was mum all the way through the film. The atmosphere was sort of tense.

Before addressing the documentary itself, it is useful to briefly turn to the very division between locals and foreigners. It is rather meaningless. Motovun was nigh deserted after the end of World War II. Only a handful of families remained. Both Italians and Croatians who felt like Italians after more than two decades of Italian rule left the hilltown in droves. Many of the so-called locals came from the neighboring villages in the wake of the exodus. But the bulk of the population was in time replaced by newcomers from other parts of Croatia quite far from Istria. They have nothing whatsoever in common with the region, let alone the medieval stronghold ruled by the Franks and Venetians for an entire millennium. Or the Austro-Hungarians and Italians who ruled it for two centuries and a half.

Returning to the documentary, it definitely goes Ljubica’s way. Wise as she undoubtedly is, though, she was made a star by Arnold and Lothar. As each of the protagonist spoke for at least half an hour in front of the camera, much that had been said was edited away to make the film last exactly thirty minutes. In my own case, there could be no doubt that the punch was edited away. And it was about the basic economics of the hilltown. To wit, the so-called locals had better understand which side of their bread is buttered. And this is something well beyond Ljubica’s wisdom of togetherness. If Motovun is to grow and prosper, some sort of balance between the locals and foreigners is surely needed, but it cannot but favor the foreigners. Without them, Motovun is dead. And crumbling to dust. Adieu, mon amour!