Her name is Vanja Kovačević. Three years ago, whilst studying at the Academy for Theatre, Film, Radio and Television (FDU), Belgrade, she faced a typical student dilemma: to write and produce a 10 minute short documentary film as part of her exams. Today she is the editor, director and a drummer in a rock and roll band Writers of Fiction. In her first documentary feature A Star is Born/Writers of fiction, behind and in front of the camera, she turns out to be a voice of the generation of young Serbians who have decided not to give up.

Like in a movie, it all started with a song….
Vanja: At the time I was trying to write the script for a short documentary, a good friend of mine, singer Ivana Smolović, kept singing „ I was born on stage” by the American band The Decemberists. This song with such a pretentious title was an immediate inspiration to me – we decided we are going to find people and make a tribute band. I would learn to play drums, Ivana would sing her favourite song and, in eight months from that moment, we would be on stage and make the film about it.”

Was playing drums a real childhood dream?
Vanja: I wanted to play drums all my life, but I didn’t dare. When I was a kid, some boys in the neighbourhood let me try once. I felt it was impossible, too hard, you need a lot of strength, and I am a relatively small person. I felt I couldn’t do it and gave it up. But it kept fascinating me through the years – drums, rhythm as such, rhythm on film. Maybe that’s the reason I became a film director, and that’s how it all got connected. 15 years later I was practicing drums day after day in front of the camera until my whole body hurt. I wanted to tell a story of how important it is to make your dreams come true, and how everything is possible if you really want it and give it your best.

The film shows the lives of her band and their efforts to put on a concert. Through the short documentary, Vanja Kovačević depicts the society she lives in and the generations that grew up in Serbia during the ’90; what they listened to, read, watched.
Vanja: Everyone involved, the members of the band and the crew, said they were happy to be a part of something you might define as “underground”. We practiced in an abandoned building in the industrial area and there we were, practicing and playing - because the music was important to us. This film is not about NATO bombing, Kosovo, war or politics. It deals with the people living in the shadow of it, people who can not make their living being musicians. They all have some other job, fighting to get by, with their chances limited as they can not even go abroad because of visa restrictions.

As a filmmaker from Serbia, are you confronted with similar problems?
Vanja: Apart from learning to play drums and doing the documentary, I was still working the whole time to pay the bills – editing commercials, promotional videos, some stuff for TV.

This film was supported by the Department for Culture of the Belgrade City Assembly, but being from Serbia, a non-EU country, we had no access to 70% of the EU film funds. We just couldn’t apply as we were not eligible. A colleague of mine tried to sign up on a web portal for documentary filmmakers where you make your own profile, upload your trailers or get in contact with other filmmakers, commissioning editors and world sales agents. He soon found out that as he was from Serbia he could not apply for free but would have to pay 250 euros to become a member.

During the making of this film, you fought in front of and behind the camera – as a girl who wanted to play drums and as a young female director in mostly male dominated film business.
Vanja: Directing is still predominantly a “man’s job” and very often on set the whole film crew is male. That’s a worldwide phenomenon - successful female directors are few and far between compared with the number of men. And here I am – a small, blonde girl who tries to be a director and editor in Serbia, making a music documentary and learning to play drums. My male colleagues that came to the set were very skeptical about the whole idea, acting as if this was just a game and not a serious project. They wondered why I was doing this instead of some TV series where I can earn some serious money. But then, when they saw the film, they were surprised, almost shocked. They became aware of all this effort I had put into it. Many of them said that they would never go into making their own film because they did not have the patience to be stuck into a project for three years as I did. And I would agree that it is certainly more difficult to pull all this through when you are a woman.

Do you think learning to play drums made you a better director? What did you learn about filmmaking by learning to play drums?
Vanja: This experience changed me profoundly, not only as a filmmaker, but also as a person. Not only did I learn to play drums at the age of 29 but I also succeeded in making a film. All of a sudden I wasn’t a shy girl anymore - I had gained new self-confidence. The experience defined my goals and attitude. I developed the power to defend my arguments, learned how to work with people, understood more clearly what I like and what I don’t like. It also taught me how to cope with the challenges that I face in daily life. It is a film about how I and the members of my band fought ourselves and won.

In a climactic finale on the stage, in the dark crowded room of one of Belgrade’s underground clubs, Vanja Kovačević behind the drums and the Writers of Fiction perform the Decemberists’ song from which all this has started. Loud.
“I was meant for the stage, I was meant for the curtains
I was meant to tread these boards; of this much I am certain
I was meant for the crowd, I was meant for the shouting
I was meant to raise these hands with quiet all about me
..Mother, please be proud, Father, be forgiving
Even though you told me, son, you'll never make a living…”