Kosovan director Blerta Neziraj talks to Duška Radosavljević about revisiting her production of Balkan Bordello in Sweden, the value of international collaboration and different cultural approaches to theatre (and raki).
Over the last couple of decades, one name from the Balkans has gained real currency in international theatre circles – Neziraj. It is the surname of an extraordinarily prolific writer and cultural worker Jeton Neziraj. It is also the name of his collaborator and wife Blerta, who has really helped to turn it into a brand.
Blerta Neziraj studied Psychology at the University of Lyon, as well as training as a theatre director. She has worked with Jeton Neziraj’s production company Qendra Multimedia in Prishtina ever since its inception in 2009. The Nezirajs’ most significant international breakthrough came with the production of Jeton’s play Yue Medlin Yue, directed by Blerta at the Volkstheater Wien in 2012. This show told the story of a migrating Roma family from Kosovo in the aftermath of the NATO bombing 1999. Other renowned Qendra productions of Jeton’s plays directed by Blerta also include 55 Shades of Gay (2017) and In Five Seasons: An Enemy of the People (2019) both of which brought the political problems of Kosovo and of the Balkans to an international attention.
In 2021 Qendra pulled off a true international coup when they collaborated with New York’s LaMaMa theatre and Belgrade’s Atelje 212 thus reviving a neglected bit of 1960s legacy of the friendship between LaMaMa’s founder Ellen Stewart and Atelje’s then leader Mira Trailović. More significantly, this initiative came from Prishtina in spite of decades of frozen cultural relations between the two Balkan capitals. The idea was to stage Jeton Neziraj’s adaptation of Aeschylus’s Oresteia titled Balkan Bordello. The premiere in Belgrade took place just three months before the Russian invasion of Ukraine, which made the subsequent tour of the production directed by Blerta, all the more topical.
This week a new production of the play – the fourth production of this text in fact – opens in Uppsala. The first had been staged in 2015 at the National Theatre of Montenegro directed by Stevan Bodroža, followed in 2017 by a production at the National Theatre of Kosovo, directed by András Urbán. The Swedish premiere is directed by Blerta once again, with a new creative team and a new Swedish cast.
Balkan Bordello. Photo: Sören Vilks
There was an attempt, Blerta tells me in the run up to the premiere, to bring the existing production of Balkan Bordello to Sweden following the New York tour, but for various reasons this did not work out. Then the Uppsala Stadteater got interested in the play:
‘Uppsala Stadsteater first contacted Jeton to get the rights for a Swedish premiere of Balkan Bordello, and then asked me if I wanted to direct it, which of course, I happily accepted. Things then took their course quickly, since last year when we agreed. Most of the actors involved are from Uppsala Stadsteater, but some are brought in from Stockholm. The rest of the creative team are from Sweden, Italy, and the Balkans. I brought some of my previous collaborators; choreographer Gjergj Prevazi from Albania, costume designer Blagoj Micevski from North Macedonia and composer Gabriele Marangoni from Italy. Collaborators from Sweden are the stage designer Magdalena Åberg, dramaturg Marie Persson Hedenius, lighting designer Mats Öhlin, masks-designer Agnes Krasse and others’.
Does this production take a new approach to the text, and how, if at all, does it echo the previous ones?
‘I have not seen the play in Montenegro, but the two subsequent productions have had completely different approaches. While András Urbán’s production in Prishtiina focused more on the local context of Kosovo, the performance I directed for La MaMa was almost entirely shifted from the Balkan context. Balkan Bordello is primarily an anti-war play, and as such, it works in every context where it is staged. That was the case two years ago when I first staged it, and it’s still the case today. At that time, the war in Ukraine was still fresh, and it made the play more than relevant. Two years later, nothing has changed; on the contrary, the war in Gaza has only added to the sense of urgency and relevance. People never seem to learn from tragedies. Or, they learn, but then quickly forget. And this play is a gentle reminder of that, of the lapidary forgetfulness of people – and of the repetition of tragedies.’
Much of the potential for multiple readings is contained within Jeton’s text which the New York Times described as ‘angry and eloquent’ and even reminiscent of Hamlet at a particular moment.
But as Blerta explains, ‘Balkan Bordello works brilliantly not only in post-war societies, but also in societies that are merely ‘observers’ and ‘spectators’ of crises, conflicts, and wars. Despite having the Balkans in the title, the play functions as a universal parable that targets not only societies traumatized and devastated by war, but also societies that contribute to “peacebuilding” in post-war countries, by sending “expertise” and “aid’”. And I have emphasized this aspect of the play more now, because I have considered the Swedish context of a country that is an “exporter” of humanitarian aid to underdeveloped and post-war countries. These are more directorial “underscores,” because almost nothing has been changed in the text.
Bashkim Neziraj and Robin Keller in Balkan Bordello. Photo: Sören Vilks.
In the second act, Orestes, who has been living in Stockholm as an asylum seeker, returns home together with his Swedish boyfriend Pylades, who in turn wants to open a dance studio here for healing the traumas of war. This is part of the text’s strong ironic side, dealing with all those “humanitarian mercenaries”, who in the aftermath of every war or conflict, need to go and “heal the traumas” of the locals. Our play in Sweden captures this perspective, that is, the perspective of a society that exports “humanitarian aid”, “expertise” and “training”, although these often come too late, or more often they are second-hand and incompatible with real needs on the ground. After the war in Kosovo, many of such international “trainers” used to come and explain to our children how to “brush our teeth in the morning”.’
I am interested in how the conditions of working on a production can also contribute to the director’s final reading of the play. The American/Serbian/Albanian co-production of Balkan Bordello was often perceived as primarily an ‘ensemble piece’. The fact that the three groups of actors from different cultures were seamlessly brought together into a unified acting style was often lauded by the critics. Surprisingly, Blerta puts this down to very practical pressures that made everyone pull together:
‘Not counting the five days of casting in New York, the rehearsals and the production phase lasted three weeks, which is a relatively short time for my rehearsal standards. Add to that the fact that those actors had different theater school backgrounds. The performances that I have directed so far have mostly had minimalist decor, or decor that has been conceived “to be carried on the plane” as they were intended for international tours.’
By contrast, the situation is markedly different in Uppsala where the total rehearsal time has been eight weeks including the Easter break:
‘I’ve had a lot more time, so there’s more space for actors individually, and thankfully, I’m working with a cast of really great actors. Also the Swedish stage designer Magdalena Åberg has created an impressive and a very present scenography. And that’s probably a special aspect of this production.’
This is Blerta’s first time working in Scandinavia, and this gives rise to questions about cultural differences in ways of working. Blerta has previously commented on how hard it is to be a woman director in the Balkans and how she needs to deploy her authority more assertively in order to make things work. How has it been working in Sweden by comparison?
‘I hesitate to comment on comparisons, especially considering the fact that I am here for less than two months. Sweden is of course known as a progressive country in terms of gender equality, and this is evident everywhere, even in stage work. Uppsala Stadsteater is run by a female artist – Petra Brylander – and that has encouraged me throughout this work. I haven’t noticed so far, any cynicism, prejudice or rejection that may have gender connotations. Which is something that I have noticed in the Balkans, and I see it regularly, not only in my work with actors. The work around the production and everything else here seems to be more structured and planned. The commitments are carried out, completed in line with the plan and in a timely manner. But beyond these technical aspects, I notice that there is greater discipline here in the working process with actors as well. Where I come from and where I mainly work, I usually suffer from lack of discipline. I suffer with the things that keep creeping; the realization of scenography creeps, the realization of costumes creeps, the things that we eventually buy online, do not arrive on time – or, at times, do not come at all. For our last show, Negotiating Peace, we ordered a polar bear toy online, but it arrived in Prishtina about two months after the premiere.’
The 2021 production of Balkan Bordello. Photo Ferdi Limani
For the end, I notice there is another Neziraj in this production – an actor in the cast – and wonder if he is a relation?
‘I know, it sounds like the Corleones! Bashkim Neziraj, who is playing Orestes in our show, comes from a completely different city in Kosovo and we do not have any family ties. Jeton knew him before, while I didn’t know him at all, until I saw him at some other shows in Uppsala. He is part of the ensemble at the Uppsala Stadsteater, the only one with ‘Balkan descent’, so his presence at the Balkan Bordello was inevitable. He is a great actor and has also helped us to understand the habits and ‘rules of the game’ in theaters in Sweden. The first day, when we started rehearsals, Jeton had a bottle of brandy (raki), which we had brought from Kosovo. We told Bashkim that we would like, after the first rehearsal, to treat the team to a glass of raki – and we also wanted to show them what raki tastes like, which is so often talked about in the play. He then explained to us that “alcohol is strictly prohibited in the theater” during working hours, and that the only place where we could “eventually” drink was the canteen, after 17:00, when we finished the rehearsals. This was a lesson we learned with a broken heart.’
At least the news of the show – and its intriguing title – has reached the local Balkan population living in Sweden. Many have been in touch wanting to see the show. The Balkan party time is just around the corner.
For tickets and more information visit: uppsalastadsteater.se
Further reading: Blerta Neziraj: As a female theatre director in Kosovo, you have to fight constantly.”
Further reading: Balkan Bordello: On the Road with the Great Jones Repertory Company
Duška Radosavljević Krojer is a writer, dramaturg and academic. She is the author of award-winning academic monograph Theatre-Making: Interplay Between Text and Performance in the 21st Century (2013) and editor of Theatre Criticism: Changing Landscapes (2016) and the Contemporary Ensemble: Interviews with Theatre-Makers (2013). Her work has been funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council in the UK multiple times including for www.auralia.space (2020-21) and The Mums and Babies Ensemble (2015). She is a regular contributor to The Stage, Exeunt and The Theatre Times.
