LAST BUS STOP
Competition
One might be forgiven for thinking that the Iron Curtain has been gone for a long time. However, the chronicles of the village of Szelmenc tell us otherwise. Until just a few years ago the village, merely 400 kilometres east of Vienna, was divided by an impenetrable border fence. It ran right through the village, separating families, friends and relatives. As late as April 2004, the U.S. Congress in far-off Washington felt obliged to debate the situation in the village. During its history, Szelmenc has been home to many different nationalities: Hungarian, Czech, Russian, Ukrainian. The most recent inhabitants are Slovakian (in Greater Szelmenc) and Ukrainian (in Little Szelmenc). When the Slovak border became the outer frontier of the EU, those on the Ukrainan side were suddenly shut out. Even for the mayors of the two districts, the Washington hearing was their first opportunity to meet in person. Directors Zsuzsa Böszörményi and Kai Salminen describe the incredible situation with gentle humour, for instance when referring to the position of the EU: “The door's open,” they said in Brussels, “only there was no door…” And the villagers made their own quirky contributions to an already bizarre situation. In order to communicate, one man reports, they would tuck notes under ducks’ wings and then send them across the river. At the same time, the film doesn’t gloss over the harassment endured under changing rule: a farming woman describes how she saw her vines being ripped out of the soil, families recount the pain of separation. Finally, Ukraine agreed to build a customs post. The most absurd episode in village history thus ended on a reconciliatory note – even if crossing the border still involves costs and formalities for the locals.
One might be forgiven for thinking that the Iron Curtain has been gone for a long time. However, the chronicles of the village of Szelmenc tell us otherwise. Until just a few years ago the village, merely 400 kilometres east of Vienna, was divided by an impenetrable border fence. It ran right through the village, separating families, friends and relatives. As late as April 2004, the U.S. Congress in far-off Washington felt obliged to debate the situation in the village. During its history, Szelmenc has been home to many different nationalities: Hungarian, Czech, Russian, Ukrainian. The most recent inhabitants are Slovakian (in Greater Szelmenc) and Ukrainian (in Little Szelmenc). When the Slovak border became the outer frontier of the EU, those on the Ukrainan side were suddenly shut out. Even for the mayors of the two districts, the Washington hearing was their first opportunity to meet in person. Directors Zsuzsa Böszörményi and Kai Salminen describe the incredible situation with gentle humour, for instance when referring to the position of the EU: “The door's open,” they said in Brussels, “only there was no door…” And the villagers made their own quirky contributions to an already bizarre situation. In order to communicate, one man reports, they would tuck notes under ducks’ wings and then send them across the river. At the same time, the film doesn’t gloss over the harassment endured under changing rule: a farming woman describes how she saw her vines being ripped out of the soil, families recount the pain of separation. Finally, Ukraine agreed to build a customs post. The most absurd episode in village history thus ended on a reconciliatory note – even if crossing the border still involves costs and formalities for the locals.