Kolektiv Igralke, premiere 11 July 2025
I have always been a fan of the local Croatian term ‘ossified umbilical cord’ which I have learned in my late teens and have been using it more frequent than I would like to, sadly. Basically, the term is usually used to describe a relationship between a child and its overbearing and controlling mother who still hasn’t fully cut through the figurative cord that connects her and her child, and she probably doesn’t want to and never will. So, it’s up to the child to put and set up boundaries with its mother and live life on its own terms by finally cutting the umbilical cord. This specifically applies to feeling of pressure parents put on their child in terms of achieving ‘big’ life events at the certain age like finding a long-term partner, getting married, buying a property and of course the inevitable – starting a family. Or rather, providing the parents with grandchildren. This issue obviously affects women more than men as childless women are seen by the patriarchal societies as selfish, frigid frivolous females who are refusing to fulfil their main purpose as women on Earth which is, naturally, to bear children.
The latest piece by Igralke Collective (Sendi Sotlar, Ana Marija Brđanović, Anja Sabol and Vanda Velagić) and director Rajna Racz, Mothers discusses precisely this question of genuinely wanting to become mothers as women in their mid-30s. Mothers is the final instalment of Igralke’s women trilogy alongside their two other plays Grannies (Bakice) and Girls (Cure), both directed by Tjaša Črnigoj. The genesis of the trilogy maps an interesting course of sociological interest for marginalized and endangered female groups, starting with retired women who cannot live through their senior years dignified but are forced to survive day-to-day by collecting plastic bottles and eating at food banks; to dealing with growing issues regarding women’s reproductive health and rights women face from adolescence. In that sense, choosing the topic of motherhood or, more precisely, making a play from the woman’s position debating whether to become a mother, seems like a natural continuation and ending of the trilogy. Especially since Racz recently became a mother and Sotlar became pregnant during the play’s development process.
Like the previous two plays, Mothers is a documentary play but unlike the rest has a more poetic dimension to it with a visually striking aesthetic which is also very common for Racz’s directing style. Pink dominates the scenography by Paola Lugarić Benzia (with whom Racz often collaborates) and Tanja Blašković – the centre of the stage is filled with different shaped pink pillows that reminded me of pregnancy pillows. The entire stage however, looked like the insides of a woman’s body, as if the performers are inside a uterus.
The performers are dressed in costumes (also by Lugarić Benzia and Blašković) made of nude coloured tights, making it look like as if they are naked. Since Sotlar is visibly pregnant, the impression of the nude body highlights the physical aspect and changes a body goes through during pregnancy. These costumes enhance the stage movement (Mila Čuljak) that is very soft and gentle, reminiscent of yoga and meditation exercise even during the more dynamic movements like marching or hitting the stage floor with the pillow like a whip, similar to a repetitive movement in Girls. The gentleness of the movement is easily interpreted as feminine gracefulness, but don’t be fooled – the breathing exercises just might be a coping mechanism for repressed frustration and anger when facing some sexist of misogynistic bullshit women deal with every day. Funnily enough, they release the frustration and any stress by rhythmically shaking their pelvises, a number they called the ‘ovaries dance’.
Mothers. Photos: Ivan Sikavica.
As the audience enters the space, Brđanović greets us in character of shamaness/shamanka, wearing a white kaftan and a crown made of roebuck’s bones and her forehead covered in black make-up. She later explains that she’s representing the Shaman of Bad Dürrenberg, one of the oldest human archaeological discovery. She tells us she was buried sitting up with a baby which wasn’t her biological child and that she was born with slight malformations in her cervical vertebrae which probably caused her to have hallucinations that were interpreted as visions. The Shamaness gives the audience instructions for watching and welcomes us to the Museum of Motherhood, a place that can be found inside every woman that tells the generational (her)story of mothers that came before us and the evidence for that are our bellybuttons, a reminder from where the umbilical cord was that connected us to our mothers during her pregnancy.
During the play, different scenes are divided by names of the exhibits like in an actual museum where each sections is curated and carries an appropriate name. Brđanović describes how, at the entrance of the Motherhood museum, first thing you feel is pressure. During is this sequence, while the other actresses are rising from behind the scenography and taking off the umbilical cord from their bellies, we hear different women re-telling what have other people, ones they know and don’t know, commented when they learned they aren’t mothers (yet). As expected, many comments suggest these women in their middle thirties to hurry up because their biological clock is ticking. This will later be further emphasized during a scene when actresses all carry metronomes on their shoulders, balancing it with their heads and necks while the sound ticks so close to their ear, perfectly summing up the constant pressure and annoying comments about women’s duty to become a mother.
The four actresses give a meta-comment that they are making a play on topic of motherhood is because it has been bothering them for quite a while and they want to settle it within themselves by working on this new project. All four of the have a friendly chemistry between each other on stage which is visible from how they lovingly look and listen to each other. Even though their acting is very subtle because it’s a documentary play so it feels like they are just themselves on stage, their sudden change in tone, from funny to serious or happy to sad, is chillingly effective precisely due to subtlety.
Because of the comments and environmental pressure, the performers say they feel insecure in their own wishes and wants so much so that they confused and paralysed what to decide. There are other aspects to the dilemma too. Velagić in her ‘ovaries crisis’ exhibit expresses concern on finding the ideal man as potential father to her children. Since she’s recently single, her friends recommended her to look for a boyfriend at sport clubs or classes where she’ll most likely find a man that is brave and devoted – in words of Bonnie Tyler, she needs a hero. The bit where she lists ideal places to look for a potential partner is one of the funniest in the play, alongside the part where Velagić talks about how she may not be ready to be a mom, but she sure is ready to be a dad. Her monologue subtly points out the importance of fathers being present during their partner’s pregnancy and helping her out as much as possible, since the majority of women (around 80%) feel lonely during pregnancy and labour.
On a more serious note, the play is very critical towards unfair and disrespectful way pregnant women and mothers are treated as workers, especially as theatre artists. Racz herself was told after she gives birth she will not get to make any new plays and Sotlar was told her being pregnant and not being able to travel so much for guest performances is ‘unprofessional’ because the performances were arranged months ago.
The final scenes discussing war are very relevant in Croatia right now as the government wants to introduce mandatory military service. The actresses sing verses of the poem Horvatska domovina by Antun Mihanovć that didn’t end up in the official Croatian anthem Lijepa naša domovino which praise war and dying for homeland, at the same time seemingly comforting mothers that have lose their sons in battles. The growing issue of problematic war glorification is shown with quote from the minister of demographic that, if the birth rate stays low, there won’t be anyone to carry riffles. Igralke stand in a line, wearing green military helmets, march in silence and exchange postures – from a feminine one sitting down and rocking the helmet as if it was a crib, to holding the helmet over their bellies, trying to protect their children by taking a stand against war in general.
Mothers discusses relevant topics many refuse to explore in public spaces when it comes to motherhood. There are many more layers to the piece than it is possible to include in one review. However, since the Museum of Motherhood is inside every woman, I don’t need to think far to continue my thought process on all the beautiful – and not so beautiful – aspects of motherhood.
Credits:
Concept: Kolektiv Igralke and Rajna Racz//Director: Rajna Racz// Dramaturg: Maja Ležaić
Performed by Sendi Sotlar, Ana Marija Brđanović, Anja Sabol and Vanda Velagić
Producers: Kolektiv Igralke, Kazalište Ulysses, Kuća Nahero, Maska Ljubljana
For more information visit: Kolektiv-igralke.hr
Further reading: review of Girls
Nora Čulić Matošić (1998) is a student of Comparative Literature (MA) at the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences in Zagreb. She has written theatre criticism for the Croatian radio programme Theatralia and web portal Kulturpunkt.hr. Besides theatre, her interests are other forms of performing arts (particularly dance performances) and film.
