Global and economic crises have created a lot of displaced people seeking asylum, safety, and the pursuit of life in new countries. This year I’ve watched three movies in which the central character had to embark on a dangerous illegal border crossing, As Far as I Can Walk being the latest. As Far As I Can Walk comes from Serbian filmmaker Stefan Arsenijević (and his co-writers Nicolas Ducray and Bojan Vuletic), whose short film (A)Torzija was nominated for an Academy Award. As Far As I Can Walk is set in Serbia and is structured around the Serbian medieval epic poem “Banovich Strahinya.”
The film centres on Samita (played by Ibrahim Koma) and his wife Ababuo (played by Nancy Mensah-Offei) who share a lower bunk in a large dorm room, in a refugee camp in Belgrade, Serbia. While Samita is optimistic that their asylum application is going to be approved, Ababuo isn’t. Samita makes money by bringing people looking to cross the border to Hungary to people who offer transportation – for a price (smugglers). He’s also making strides playing soccer and is pretty sure he’s going to make the team and get to play professionally, something he only dreamed of doing. Ababuo, who dreamed of acting, doesn’t see a path to her dream in Serbia, a place where her husband can’t even get her clothes that fit her right. So, when some new refugees from Syria arrive in the camp, she’s drawn to them. So much so that on the night Samita makes the soccer team and comes to tell her his good news, he finds out she’s left with them. He’s faced with a choice. If he follows her, he’ll probably have to goodbye to both his soccer dream (missing practice) and his asylum application. If he stays, he’ll lose her forever.
In Europa, I saw the border crossing into Bulgaria, which was scary. This film featured a border crossing into Hungary, which was also scary (if not the main focus of the film), and watching, I couldn’t help but think these characters, and the real people they are representative of, likely already crossed at Bulgaria. To have to keep facing the threat of death to pursue life, or as Ababuo says when Samita catches up with her, “the illusion of something bigger,” paints a harsh picture of our world that essentially assigns grades to refugees/asylum seekers.
Ibrahim Koma had to carry a lot of the film on his own, and he did a lot of exceptional non-verbal acting. There’s a great moment when Samita realizes that the smugglers, who he has been bringing people to in exchange for a cut, aren’t taking people where they’re supposed to. And the only reason he found out about the double-cross is that he learned Serbian to assimilate to his desired home. Ibrahim Koma’s portrayal as he realizes that he may have unintentionally sold people a false bill of goods by bringing them to these people for assistance is a masterclass in saying a lot with your eyes.
Narratively the poem wasn’t necessary. Without it, the two leads would’ve carried the emotional journey of the film just fine. And any viewer with knowledge of the film will have a basic idea of how this journey will play out. However, what the poem does is tie Samita to Serbian identity politics. He stands as the proxy for Strahinja, the titular Serbian hero from the poem. By using “Banovich Strahinya” in this manner, Arsenijević shows a kinship between Samita and Serbia. Even if the government isn’t making it easy for Samita to make his chosen home permanent, it is the path he’s walking, as far as he can.
It was selected as part of the 5th edition of the Pingyao International Film Festival as part of their Crouching Tigers category for new international directors.
© 2021. UniversalCinema Mag.