creativity and decadence in the bulgarian cinema: 1945 - Lalev

THE CONFORMISTS:
CREATIVITY AND DECADENCE IN THE BULGARIAN CINEMA: 1945-1989
A Dissertation
Presented to
The Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences
Brandeis University
Comparative History
Alice Kelikian, Advisor
In Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirements for the Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
by
Evgenija Garbolevsky
February 2011

UMI Number: 3439926
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This dissertation, directed and approved by Evgenija Garbolevsky’s Committee, has been
accepted and approved by the Faculty of Brandeis University in partial fulfillment of the
requirements for the degree of:
Dissertation Committee:
_______________________________
Alice A. Kelikian, History Department
_______________________________
Mark L. Hulliung, History Department
_______________________________
John A. Davis, Department of History
University of Connecticut
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
___________________________
Malcolm Watson, Dean
Graduate School of Arts and Sciences

Copyright by
Evgenija Garbolevsky
2011

ACKNOWLEDEGMENTS
I wish to thank many people who helped fulfill this project. I am grateful to my husband
Alexander Garbolevsky and my daughter Hanne Sofia who were always there for me. My
heartfelt thanks go to my advisor Professor Alice Kelikian, my father Gueorgui Stoyanov, and
the numerous colleagues and friends in Bulgaria and the United States who supported me. I also
gratefully recognize the contributions of Jon Huibrechtse, Halcyon Mancuso, Alexander
Janakiev, Georgi Djulgerov, Iskra Dimitrova, Elka Nikolova, Radoslav Spassov, and the staff of
the Bulgarian Film Archive. I especially wish to dedicate this work to the memory of the late
movie maker, actor and Archive director Plamen Maslarov.
iv

ABSTRACT
THE CONFORMISTS:
CREATIVITY AND DECADENCE IN THE BULGARIAN CINEMA: 1945-1989
A dissertation presented to the Faculty of the
Graduate School of Arts and Sciences of Brandeis University
Waltham, Massachusetts
By Evgenija Garbolevsky
My dissertation examines the complexities and paradoxes of the Bulgarian film industry
during the era of Communist rule (1945–1989), by analyzing the creation and development of an
influential industry that was mobilized for the needs of the state. My project focuses on an
examination of the relationship between Bulgarian filmmakers and the Communist bureaucratic
apparatus; this analysis demonstrates how cultural institutions and the people involved in film
production operated within a relatively closed system, based on rewards and punishments.
Another major component of my project is an exploration of the sub-textual content in
films produced in Bulgaria during the period under study, highlighting the attitude of the elite
towards the regime. Understanding this multifaceted relationship helps explain why so many
intellectuals found the film industry to be an attractive field to work in and decided to remain
loyal to the regime instead of leaving or openly rebelling against it.
My project challenges a major historiographical assumption reflecting the perception
that due to variety of reasons, the arts in the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War were largely
unsuccessful. By using a comparative methodological approach, my research reveals that despite
v

the “Iron Curtain”. the arts in the East and West were following similar paths. My dissertation
questions the hitherto simplistic division of Eastern European Cinema into the categories of
propaganda and dissent.
vi

Table of Contents
List of Tables ...................................................................................................................................x
List of Photographs ........................................................................................................................ xi
Chapter
Introduction ......................................................................................................................................1
vii
Page
1. Behind the Curtain: Cultural Politics and the Formation of the Bulgarian Film
Industry – 1940s and 1950s ...........................................................................................20
The Question of Periodization and Early Formation Patterns ........................................20
The Creation Begins .......................................................................................................26
Further Growth and Consolidation of Power ..................................................................34
Films as Propaganda .......................................................................................................39
Foreign Films Restricted .................................................................................................42
Legislation.......................................................................................................................43
Nationalization Begins ....................................................................................................45
Evaluation of the Start ....................................................................................................48
The Creative and the Critical ..........................................................................................49
Institutionalization and Early Films ................................................................................54
Controlling and Producing Creativity .............................................................................65
The Thaw ........................................................................................................................69
Beyond the Thaw ............................................................................................................76
2. Silent Revolutions, Metahistory, Repression, and Rebellion in the 1960s .....................89
Political Situation ............................................................................................................89
Films, Films, Films .........................................................................................................98

The Cultural Arena between 1965 and 1968 .................................................................111
The Year 1968 ................................................................................................................128
Larger Patterns and Trends ............................................................................................142
The Relation to History ..................................................................................................142
Intercultural Encounters and the Bulgarian Film ...........................................................146
Anti-Heroes and Death ..................................................................................................151
Acting as a Solution .......................................................................................................153
Film Attendance or The Phenomenon of “Opening Scissors” .......................................156
3. Confronting the Fires: Myth and Memory in Bulgarian Film during the 1970s ...........159
Living Ethos and its Implications for Film ...................................................................159
The Films of the Seventies ............................................................................................174
Cultural Significance of the Films of the 1970s ............................................................213
4. Downfall: The Cinema of the 1980s or The Unfinished Project ...................................228
The Demise of Communism .........................................................................................228
Structural Changes in the Bulgarian Cinematography: 1981–1991 ..............................235
International Film Festival in Sofia in 1987 ..................................................................242
The Cinema ...................................................................................................................249
Women in “Manly Times” ............................................................................................257
Final Remarks ...............................................................................................................266
Epilogue .......................................................................................................................................267
Appendix
A. Photographs ...................................................................................................................272
Photo Credits .................................................................................................................292
viii

Archival Sources and Bibliography ............................................................................................293
ix

Tables
Table Page
1. City and Rural Cinemas .................................................................................................63
2. Total Number of Film Viewers in Bulgaria per Year (in millions) by
Films’ Country / Region of Origin ..............................................................................158
3. Chronology of Films: 1972–1980 ................................................................................226
x

Photographs
Photo Page
1. East German film director Konrad Wolf after the 1959 screening of
the Bulgarian film Stars ...................................................................................................272
2. Katya Paskaleva, Pavel Pisarev and others ......................................................................273
3. Binka Zhelyazkova directing When We Were Young (1961) ...........................................273
4. Dimiter Boynozov and Rumyana Karabelova in When We Were Young (1961) ............274
5. Georgi Djulgerov in his dorm room at the VGIK in Moscow (1963 or 1964) .................274
6. Ivo Obrenovich (Rade Markovich) and Lisa (Nevena Kokanova) in The Peach
Thief (1964) .......................................................................................................................275
7. Lisa (Nevena Kokanova) in church. The Peach Thief (1964) ..........................................275
8. Capt. De Grue (Naum Shopov) and Ivo play chess. The Peach Thief (1964) ..................276
9. Janet Miteva in The Attached Balloon (1967) ..................................................................276
10. The Attached Balloon (1967) ............................................................................................277
11. Naum Shopov. The Painlevé Case (1967) ........................................................................277
12. Naum Shopov. The Painlevé Case (1967) ........................................................................278
13. Birds and Greyhounds (1969) ...........................................................................................278
14. Gueorgui Stoyanov. The Third Planet in the Solar System (1972) ...................................279
15. Gueorgui Stoyanov. The Third Planet in the Solar System (1972) ...................................279
16. Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972) ........................................................280
17. Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972) ........................................................280
18. Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972) ........................................................281
19. Plamen Maslarov. …And the Day Came (1973) ...............................................................281
xi

20. Elena Mirchovska and Plamen Maslarov. …And the Day Came (1973) .........................282
21. Iana Guirova in The Last Word (1973) .............................................................................282
22. The Last Word (1973) .......................................................................................................283
23. The Final Haircut. The Last Word (1973) .........................................................................283
24. Binka Zhelyazkova (waving) at the 1974 Cannes Film Festival ......................................284
25. Father Eredia (Jan Engelert) and Fanny (Edith Szalay). Doomed Souls (1975) ...............284
26. Radoslav Spassov and Edouard Zahariev. Villa Zona (1975) ..........................................285
27. Mariana Dimitrova as Elitza in Manly Times (1977) ........................................................285
28. Grigor Vachkov as Banko in Manly Times (1977) ...........................................................286
29. Elitza and her captors. Manly Times (1977) .....................................................................286
30. Elitza (Mariana Dimitrova) attempts to flee. Manly Times (1977) ...................................287
31. Elitza in the Rhodope Mountains. Manly Times (1977) ...................................................287
32. Elitza and Banko arrive at the village. Manly Times (1977) .............................................288
33. Radoslav Spassov with actor Grigor Vachkov. Manly Times (1977) ...............................288
34. Maria Statulova and Rusi Chanev. Advantage (1977) ......................................................289
35. Dobrinka Stankova with Pavel Popendov. Panteley (1978) .............................................289
36. Radoslav Spassov and Gueorgui Stoyanov. Panteley (1978) ...........................................290
37. Rangel Vulchanov and Radoslav Spassov. The Unknown Soldier’s… (1979) ................290
38. Vulchanov and Spassov. The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (1979) ............291
39. Vulchanov and Spassov. The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (1979) ............291
xii

Introduction
It is not exactly the presence of a thing but rather the absence of it that becomes
the cause and impulse for creative motivation. 1
–Alexander Archipenko
We know nothing about death. We never thought about it. 2
–Vasil Popov
During the Cold War era, all countries in Eastern Europe created an array of
cinematic works, which distinguished themselves by superb aesthetic quality, profound
intellectual depth, and erudition. The Communist Parties took Lenin’s phrase, “cinema is
the most important art” 3 very seriously, recognizing the vast propaganda potential of film.
My dissertation addresses the complexities and paradoxes in the functioning of the
Bulgarian cinematic world during 1945–1989. My research focuses on the development
of Bulgarian film between 1944 and 1989, as the youngest and most dynamic medium
during the period. I explore several forms of subversion, such as decadence, silence,
grotesque, and irony, among others, which fostered the creative imagination of the
1 Alexander Archipenko cited in Bill Nichols, “The Memory of Loss: Péter Forgács’s Saga
of Family Life and Social Hell,” Film Quarterly 56, no. 4 (summer 2003): 2. [journal online];
accessed 10 Jul. 2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1213879.
2 Yuri Vidov Karageorge, review of The “Thaw” in Bulgarian Literature, by Atanas Slavov,
quoting Vasil Popov, World Literature Today 56, no. 3, Varia Issue (summer 1982): 535. [journal
online]; accessed 10 Jul. 2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/40137388.
3 Jerzy Toeplitz, “Cinema in Eastern Europe,” Cinema Journal 8, no. 1 (autumn 1968): 4.
[journal online]; accessed 10 Jul. 2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1225222.
1

intellectual elite, and made the film art successful. I search for resilience in the oeuvres,
in the operation of the institutions, and by looking at the views of the filmmakers and the
works of the film critics. Examining the constellation between performance and
perception, I add a quantitative dimension by analyzing the film distribution records, the
numbers of films produced per year and the figures of moviegoers.
I argue that the Bulgarian filmmakers, similar to their counterparts across the
Eastern Bloc, vigorously resisted fitting into the role of lackeys of the Communist
regime. Instead, the cineastes articulated their personal visions in their oeuvres by
developing aesthetic practices and coded language, expressing their dissatisfaction with
the status quo, and communicating their complex political and cultural views to the
audiences. The filmmakers eluded censors while including the spectators as
accomplices. 4 The tension between rebellion and conformism in the cinematic discourse
was intense. Despite the powerfully oppressive cultural policies of the regime, the
cineastes succeeded loading their works with subversive messages. Regardless of the
ideological straightjacket imposed on them, they sublimated their artistic passions and
creative impulses, protested, and mocked the Establishment.
Why do I explore the Bulgarian cinema? As Iskra Dimitrova comments and asks
rhetorically, “for those who know that to have a contact with numerous national cultures
in the world is an endless adventure full of joy, mind and feeling, Bulgarian cinema could
be an object of desire. Many would ask whether it exists at all.” 5 In fact, filmmaking in
4 Anikó Imre, ed., East European Cinemas (New York: Routledge, 2005), 124.
5 Iskra Dimitrova, “A Point of View on the Cinema Art: From Between the Worlds of Post
Communism and Democracy,” Jul. 1999: 1–2 [article online]; accessed 15 Mar. 2010; available
from http://www.extremno.com/~bgfilm/.
2

Bulgaria was a very glamorous form of artistry. It started its existence at the beginning of
the twentieth century and it became an industry, attracting large audiences during the late
1950s. The Bulgarian Communist Party perceived the world of film as a major arena for
assertion of power. As former CEO of the Bulgarian Cinematography, Pavel Pisarev
comments in an interview:
In fact, the Politburo resolved and played out its internal conflicts hidden
behind the Art pedestal. They argued about things about which they could not talk
among each other. For example, the different Politburo members will choose
protégés among the artists and elevate their careers hastily or dismiss them
suddenly from their position as form of display of power between them. 6
The political Establishment invested large amounts of capital to build modern film
studios with updated equipment for the production of films, to educate young people in
the art of cinema, and for the printing of film journals and magazines.
During the Cold War, filmmakers and film critics enjoyed a high standing in
society and received some of the largest funding and career opportunities. The film
culture’s unusual access to travel permits, connections abroad, foreign currency, and an
array of privileges acted often as a “performance-enchanting drug” 7 for the artistic elite.
The “socialist manner of working” 8 made possible for the filmmakers to edit their works
and rewrite their ideas over very long periods of time, sometimes extending up to 819
days. After 1989, a film usually needed to be produced in forty days. 9
6 Pavel Pisarev, interview with Dima Dimova, Kino (Cinema), Jun. 2004, 4.
7 Thomas Elsaesser and Michael Wedel, “Defining DEFA’s Historical Imaginary: The Films
of Konrad Wolf,” New German Critique 82, East German Film (winter, 2001): 3–24.
8 Alexander Janakiev, Sto Godischen Filmov Process: Lichnosti, Filmi, Kina (One Hundred
Years of Film Process: Personalities, Film, Cinema) (Sofia: IK Titra, 2002), 266.
9 Ibid.
3

To meet demands associated with mass consumption was not the major goal of
the industry, (as is the case after 1989). The government gave the filmmakers certain
freedom to work in a style that satisfied their own high aesthetic standards and priorities.
Nearly 600 feature films were produced during the years of Communism (1945–1989),
and production peaked at around twenty-five features annually in the 1980s. In addition,
about 20 television films, as well as 400 shorts and animated films were released every
year. Since 1989, the output of feature films has dropped to four or five per year and the
total number of Bulgarian films for the period 1990–2005 is slightly over sixty. On recent
occasions when critics were asked to name the best Bulgarian films of all times, most
short-listed titles were from the 1960s and 1970s; not a single film created after 1985
ever makes it to the top dozen. Bulgarian cinema’s best moments remain confined to the
past, when filmmakers had to be politically conformist but still enjoyed the chance to
work and reach out to audiences. 10
The most innovative artists and intellectuals involved in the film industry were
those who were, at least on the surface, loyal to the Party. 11 As philosopher and film critic
Ivailo Znepolski shares in an interview, he consciously chose the cinema as an art of
escape and salvation. As Znepolski continues, “the cinema was the only medium that
10 Dina Iordanova and Ron Holloway, “Hoping for a Bulgarian Film Revival,” New Russian
Cinema: Kino Kultura, Special Issue 5 (Bulgarian Cinema), Dec. 2006 [journal online]; accessed
26 Jun. 2010; available from http://www.kinokultura.com/specials/5/holloway-iordanova.shtml.
11 A similar argument is made about East Germany (DDR) in Joshua Feinstein, The Triumph
of the Ordinary: Depictions of Daily Life in the East German Cinema, 1956–1966 (Chapel Hill:
University of North Carolina Press, 2002), 18.
4

allowed us to touch a different world. It was the only disguise where we could freely
discuss all problems about we were otherwise not allowed to talk.” 12
Bulgaria had a vigorous and very prolific intellectual life, which is worth
exploring in depth. The size of the film industry in the period was remarkable, especially
in relation to the predominantly rural and sparsely populated character of the small
Balkan country. The dramatic changes that occurred in Europe after the end of World
War II invigorated the cultural life on the entire continent. In postwar Bulgaria, for
example, the Communist government allowed the distribution of many previously
prohibited films not only created by Soviet but also by American, French, and English
cinematographers. As a result, already by the mid 1950s, the average yearly film imports
in the country reached two hundred. 13 The nationalization of the film industry in 1945 in
most countries belonging to the Eastern Bloc contributed, as well, to a slow but steady
eruption of film production of unprecedented scale. 14 Besides films, the Bulgarian
Cinematography Corporation [Bulgarska Kinematographia] had already fashioned during
the late 1940s some popular science fiction and documentaries, as well as adding a
cartoon section to its repertoire in 1948. 15
12 Ivailo Znepolski interview with Iskra Dimitrova , “Nie sme plod i zhertva na kulturata si,
na protivorechiyata v nashata kultura, na nevzmozhnostta si da se opravim v kulturniste si
protivorechiya,” (We Are Fruit and Victim of Our Culture, of the Contradiction in Our Culture, of
the Impossibility to Repair Our Cultural Contradictions) Demokraticheski Pregdel (Democratic
Review) 45, (winter 2000-2001): 1–2 [journal online]; accessed 15 Mar. 2010; available at
http://www.extremno.com/~bgfilm/znepolski.htm. Dr. Ivailo Znepolski is one of the most
prominent Bulgarian intellectuals. He is the author of many books, and served as minister of
culture and lecturer in France.
13 Janakiev, 177.
14 For exact numbers consult Janakiev, 226.
5

The state income from film screenings in 1980 was 38.9 million leva and the state
expenses for the maintenance of the film industry was 38.5 million for the same year. 16
The state subsidy for one film production, which was 1.1 million leva per year on
average, suggests the presence of an influential and powerful industry. 17 Statistical data
for the time span 1950–1989 indicate a gradual and constant growth of the numbers of
Bulgarian films, starting with the production of one to two in the 1940s and reaching
heights, such as twenty-one films per year during the 1970s and 1980s. 18 After the
changes of 1989, the numbers of cinematic works produced per year dropped
dramatically. Furthermore, the size of the viewing public was impressive, as well,
amounting to 1.5 million viewers per Bulgarian film on average. 19 In 1980, Bulgaria with
3,439 movie theaters had the second largest number of filmgoers in the Eastern Bloc,
after the USSR. 20 According to the source, there were on average one hundred fifty-seven
people per screening in the cities and forty-five in the countryside in 1980. 21
15
Alexander Grozev, Bulgarskiat Film i Kritikata (The Bulgarian Film and Critic) (Sofia:
Nauka i Iskustvo, 1974), 28.
16
Centralna Durjavna Archiva [Central State Archives] (CSA), Sofia, Bulgaria, fond (f.)
383, opis (op.) 15, archival unit (a.e.) 140, n.d.
17 Janakiev, 177, 297–311.
18 Ibid., 297–311. (Note: Interesting are the numbers of films produced per year: 1950-1,
1951-2, 1952-1, 1954-3, 1955-2, 1956-7, 1957-6, 1958-7, 1959-4, 1960-9, 1961-9, 1962-8, 1963-
9, 1964-11, 1965-12, 1966-7, 1967-10, 1968-10, 1969-17, 1970-9, 1971-12, 1972-15, 1973-18,
1974-18, 1975-18, 1976-15, 1977-18, 1978-21, 1979-20, 1980-19, 1981-18, 1982-21, 1983-19,
1984-19, 1985-20, 1986-21, 1987-20, 1988-19, 1989-19, 1990-7, 1991-5)
19 Ibid.
20 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, ae. 1, 1980
21 Ibid.
6

The data discussed above, the fact that the Bulgarian case is completely
understudied, and the lack of evidence indicating a large exodus of émigrés or the
presence of underground, dissident artistic networks make this country a particularly
interesting case study. In fact, the history of film in Bulgaria is a history of constant
cinematic revivals. Good examples can be found in the 1950’s after Stalin’s death, the
rebellious 1960s, the 1970s, known as a time of relaxed regulations, and during the self-
reforming 1980s where the spirit of change was already in the air. 22 Hidden opposition
against dictatorship developed and flourished during this period. As Dimitrova
emphasizes, films during the Cold War functioned as an extraordinary substitute of all
otherwise officially forbidden expressions of the social life such as the sense of
hopelessness and malaise and the disillusionment with the hypocrisy and oppressive
character of the regime. 23
The film culture of Bulgaria was decadent. Despite its self-contradictory and
ambiguous nature, I use the term decadence in the way David Weir explores it “as
Dionysian and pluralistic, as subversive, inverting harsh new limits, excessive,
extravagant and elegant, whose explanations all reveal the difficulties of definition and
show how the difficulties of definition itself can illuminate the meaning of decadence.” 24
The artists were connected to the policy of patronage but they refused to act as lackeys of
the regime. 25 A memorandum for the arts issued by the Politburo in Bulgaria in the 1970s
22 For more information about specific films see Janakiev.
23 Dimitrova, “A Point of View of the Cinema Art,” 2.
24
David Weir, Decadence and the Making of Modernism (Amherst: University of
Massachusetts Press, 1995).
7

stated that “despite the intentions of the cineastes, many films offer to us a conception of
a human which is in deep discordance with the modes of Marxist thinking.” 26 The entire
Cold War period is marked by the struggle between political administrators and the
artistic elite and the failure of the Establishment to successfully manipulate and control
the arts.
The cat-and-mouse game among censors, Party mentors, and filmmakers was not
always suffocating but sometimes stimulating for the intelligentsia. Stylistically, the
cineastes borrowed approaches from their Romantic predecessors by using the decadent
as a method of, as David Weir put it, “fusion between Beauty and Death in a sort of two
faced herm filled with corruption and melancholy and fatal in its beauty–a beauty of
which the more bitter the taste, the more abundant the enjoyment.” 27 As Nietzsche
remarked, “…Décadence is nothing to be fought: it is absolutely necessary and belongs
to every age and every people…” 28 As Charles Bernheimer adds, “decadence is a
biological process that assures the organism’s health whether this organism be an
individual or society.” 29 The result of this artistic sensitivity in Bulgaria was the creation
of works of high aesthetic quality in which the cinematographers searched for hidden
ways in order to express their longing for freedom and their desire for rebellion and
25 Feinstein, 231.
26 Janakiev, 228.
27 Weir, 3.
28 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power (New York: Vintage, 1967), 25–26, cited in
Charles Bernheimer, Decadent Subjects: The Idea of Decadence in Art, Literature, Philosophy,
and Culture of the Fin de Siècle in Europe, eds. T. Jefferson Kline and Naomi Schor (Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 9.
29 Bernheimer, 9.
8

disgust with the status quo. 30 As the Bulgarian film critic Alexander Grozev notices,
already in the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Bulgarian filmmakers abandoned almost
entirely the belief that form was of secondary importance and that the aesthetic
significance of a film depended above all on its content. The new artistic thinking was
inextricably linked to the search for individual style and the use of a multi-leveled means
of expression. The filmmakers showed greater trust in the members of the audience as
potential co-authors who were not only capable of following the narrative with
concentration and understanding but could also grasp the metaphors and discover hidden
meanings. 31
Despite the fact that since the start of the twenty-first century, an array of works
dealing with the Cold War era and its intellectual heritage in a nuanced way has
appeared 32 , the story of Bulgaria and its film culture is still largely unexamined and
ignored by academic film scholarship. Bulgaria is a country about which remarkably little
has been written. The historiography on the subject of film is virtually negligible. 33 Some
general accounts exist, which are largely written by Bulgarian scholars during the Cold
War era and therefore lack objectivity and critical insight or serve as general
30 Good examples are the DDR film Die Legende von Paul and Paula (The Legend of Paul
and Paula) (1973) and the Bulgarian film (Edna zhena na trideset i tri) A Woman at 33 (1982).
31 See Grozev, 31.
32 Dina Iordanova, Cinema of Flames: Balkan Film, Culture and the Media (London:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2001); Dina Iordanova, ed., The Cinema of the Balkans (London:
Wallflower Press, 2006); Dina Iordanova, Cinema of the Other Europe: The Industry and Artistry
of East Central European Film (London: Wallflower Press, 2003); Alain Badiou, The Communist
Hypothesis (London: Verso Books, 2010); Maria Todorova, ed. Remembering Communism:
Genres of Representation (New York: Social Science Research Council, 2010).
33 Note: The only complete work on Bulgarian Cinema in English is Ronald Holloway’s,
The Bulgarian Cinema.
9

chronological guides for the period. Consequently, they lack an elaborated critical
apparatus. 34 Moreover, the accounts about the history of the Bulgarian cinema are
produced predominantly by film critics or the filmmakers themselves. 35 The weakness of
these works, from the historical perspective, is that they largely assess issues related to
the aesthetic representation of the arts and almost ignore their socio-political and
institutional dimension. In general, many authors of historical works devoted to the
history of the East European cinema written in the West, and in the East, after the fall of
the Iron Curtain, either selectively use the Communist legacy in order to rewrite the
differences across the Western model, 36 or represent the Eastern European cultural
heritage either as artistically fruitless and depressed or as ideologically driven and over-
politicized. 37
The first historian, who wrote about Bulgarian cinema in the West, under close
collaboration with the CEO of the Bulgarian Cinematography during the 1970s Pavel
Pisarev, was Ronald Holloway. 38 Holloway, also, for a first time introduced the term
34 See for example: Janakiev; or Petur Kurdzhilov, Bulgarian Feature Films: An Annotated
Illustrated Filmography 1948–1970 (Sofia: Dr. Peter Beron State Publishing House, 1988).
35 See Vŭlo Radev, Isgubeni Prostranstva (Lost Spaces) (Sofia: Literaturen Forum, 2002).
36 Historians writing directly after the revolutions of 1989 sympathetically aim to victimize
the intelligentsia, stressing the oppressive role of censorship and the existence of a large array of
prohibited works. See for example: Leslie Ann Auerbach, “Censorship and East European and
Soviet Theater and Film 1963-1980: The Censor’s Game” (Ph.D. diss., State University of New
York at Stony Brook, 1988).
37 Good examples for these tendencies are offered by Peter W. Jansen and Wolfram
Schütte von Hanser, eds. Film in der DDR (Munich: Hanser, 1977); Alexander Prokhorov,
“Inherited Discourse: Stalinist Tropes in Thaw Culture (Russia)” (Ph.D. diss., University of
Pittsburgh, 2002); Herbert Marshall, Masters of the Soviet Cinema: Crippled Creative
Biographies (Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983); and Feinstein.
10

“poetic realism” describing in this way the predominant mood in Bulgarian films. 39
Unfortunately, no one has elaborated significantly on his pioneering work. 40 Dina
Iordanova justified in 2006 the lack of interest in the Bulgarian cinema as follows:
On several recent occasions, talking to younger US-based colleagues, I
insisted they should not fool themselves that they can sustain an academic career
by specializing in Bulgarian cinema. First of all, it is difficult to do research
about it: many of the films are never made commercially available and most are
never subtitled. There is no single point of contact where one can go to ask for
copies. It is necessary to rely on personal acquaintances most of the time and
many of them are not particularly eager to respond promptly to correspondence
from abroad. Secondly, Bulgarian culture is not exactly in the focus of Western
interest. Even as an established academic, I have had to put up with situations
where collections including texts on Bulgarian cinema are cancelled or endlessly
postponed. If the situation in post-Communist times is so bad, I wonder to what
extent the careers of people from the previous generation, like Ron Holloway who
has a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, have been affected by their enduring
commitment to neglected subject matters like Bulgarian cinema. In spite of the
difficulties,looking back at my record, I am glad to see that I have managed to
publish a number of shorter and longer pieces on Bulgarian film over the years. It
is my intention to continue working with Bulgarian material whenever there is a
chance. 41
Even if difficult to study, inaccessible, and commercially not profitable, the
Bulgarian cinema is worth exploring because it sheds a different light on the life of the
intellectual elite from the Eastern Bloc. Why? The Bulgarian cinema mirrors the
development of the other Eastern European cinemas but at the same time exemplifies a
38 Pavel Pisarev, interview with author, 30 Jun. 2007; Ronald Holloway, The Bulgarian
Cinema (Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1986).
39 Holloway.
40 Over the past several years film director Georgi Djulgerov dedicated time to a project that
is not very typical for directors of his stature, but is particularly dear to us: he worked extensively
on entering detailed information and synopses for a wide range of Bulgarian films on the Internet
Movie Database (www.imdb.com). As a result of his efforts, the data on Bulgarian cinema on this
site are by far superior to the information on the cinemas of many other countries.
41 Dina Iordanova, “Hoping for a Bulgarian Film Revival.”
11

very different dynamic, compared to the picture that we traditionally associate with Cold
War film, having in mind mostly the dissident cultures of countries, such as Poland and
Hungary, or the theme of victimization predominant in earlier works of the Soviet
cinema. 42
By using comparative approaches, I demonstrate that despite the “Iron Curtain,”
East and West were following, consciously or not, similar trends. For instance, after 1945
filmmakers in the East were painfully aware of and influenced by the works of their
colleagues in the West, such as Roberto Rossellini, Michelangelo Antonioni, Federico
Fellini, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and Ingmar Bergman. They were also familiar with
the emerging styles of neorealism and nouvelle vague.
The trivial division of the Eastern European film into the categories of
propaganda and dissent is too simplistic. The examples of many films show far greater
complexity and the presence of an apolitical attitude with political undertones among the
artists. 43 As Catherine Portuges comments, “especially between the late 1960s and early
1980s, filmmakers from the Eastern Bloc managed to adeptly outmaneuver censors in
creating stylistically subversive visual works that layered fiction and documentary,
realism and surrealism, allegory, and satire. 44
42 For more examples, see: Herbert Marshall, Masters of the Soviet Cinema: Crippled
Creative Biographies (Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983); and Bryan Burns, World
Cinema Hungary (Trowbridge, UK: Flicks Books, 1996).
43 Feinstein.
44 Catherine Portuges, “Border Crossings: Recent Trends in East and Central European
Cinema,” Slavic Review 51, no. 3 (autumn 1992): 531–535. [journal online]; accessed 10 Jul.
2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/2500059.
12

Especially during the 1980s, Hungarian, Czechoslovak and Polish filmmakers,
followed by their Soviet, Bulgarian, and Romanian counterparts, boldly represented an
angry cinema, embodying the subversive stance of the Hungarian uprising of 1956, the
Prague Spring of 1968, and the Solidarity Movement in Poland. Another parallel among
all cinemas of the Eastern Bloc is the presence of a painful awareness of their
marginality, timid provincialism, and intense desire to be fully integrated with the rest of
the continent. 45 Certain common themes among all Eastern European countries are well
defined and explored in Dina Iordanova’s book Cinema of the Other Europe: The
Industry and Artistry of East Central European Film. 46 Unfortunately, Iordanova has
avoided analyzing the Bulgarian cinema as a part of “the Cinema of the other Europe.”
The “white spot” or absence of Bulgarian cinema, except for short references in her other
book, Cinema of Flames: Balkan Film, Culture and the Media, which deals with Balkan
film, is striking. If the Bulgarian cinema is not a part of the Eastern European Cinema and
not a part of the Balkan cinema, where should we situate it? My research will provide an
answer to this question.
The common denominator for all Eastern European cinemas is the divergent
historical, political and cultural heritage and climate in which the films originated.
Despite several parallels among the countries of the Eastern Bloc, a monolithic
interpretation of their film cultures is impossible. An examination of the Bulgarian
cinema is necessary in order to reconstruct the mosaic of Eastern European cinema.
45 Ibid., 535.
46 These themes include the apolitical attitude of the cineastes, the relation to history as
existential, the resentment toward the Party apparatus, migration, and reluctant feminism, to name
a few.
13

Among the most important reasons against a generalized and reductionist
elucidation is the fact that the singular industries first originated in dissimilar context and
second developed under unique implementations of Communist rule. 47 A good example
here is the case of the former Yugoslavia where, since Tito’s break with Stalin in 1948,
the country claimed the status of a non-aligned socialist state pursuing its own political,
economic, and cultural agenda. 48
A major subject of the Central Eastern European cinema that was missing in
Bulgaria, except with the 1958 German-Bulgarian co-production Stars, (Zvezdi/Sterne)
directed by Konrad Wolf and written by Angel Wagenstein, was the Holocaust theme.
The Holocaust largely unraveled in Eastern Europe and it was mostly Eastern European
Jews who perished. In fact, Poland had a well-established Yiddish film industry already
in the early 1930s. At the beginning of the Cold War era, the Yiddish cinema was
suppressed, but with the demise of Communism it became particularly visible again.
Already during the Cold War era, many films had explored the subjects of anti-Semitism
and Jewish life. 49 The best known film about the subject that Eastern Europe had
produced in that period was the Oscar winning Mephisto (1981) by Istvan Szabó.
The major pattern that sets the Bulgarian cinema apart from its Eastern European
neighbors, in addition to the lack of dissident culture, is the fascination and preoccupation
47 The post-World War II legacy was at large different in the different states.
48 See Iordanova’s Cinema of Flames; Daniel J. Goulding, Liberated Cinema: The Yugoslav
Experience, 1945–2001 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002); and Richard Taylor, et
al., eds., The BFI Companion to Eastern European and Russian Cinema (London: BFI Publishing,
2000).
49 Good examples are Austeria (The Inn) (1983) by the Polish producer Jerzy Kawalerovicz,
Tutajosok (The Raft) (1989) by Hungarian Judit Elek and Balkan Ekspres (Balkan Express)
(1983) by Yugoslav Branco Baletic. Taylor, 100.
14

of the Bulgarian artists with death as a leitmotiv in their cinematic works. Communist
societies were ordered by the powerful of the day to project only health and success.
Therefore, the depiction of death, as one of the faces of the decadent, was perceived by
the cineastes as the strongest form of subversion. The major Bulgarian masterpieces
exhibit a dramatic, tragic, ornamental, and poetic outlook. The Bulgarian filmmakers, as
opposed to their Eastern European counterparts showed little interest in “the ordinary” or
everyday life. 50
Why is my research relevant? As David Norris emphasizes, the Balkan academic
industry has focused recently on exploring problems related to national identity and the
ethics of ethnic politics. 51 The historiography on the Balkans has exhausted the
theoretical frameworks of Orientalism 52 used to illuminate the postcolonial identity
dislocation of the region. Maria Todorova’s pioneering 1997 work Imagining the Balkans
historicized the imaginative engendering of the Balkans and alerted readers to blind spots
within Western representations of the region. Further, Todorova drew attention to the
complexity of Balkan self-images, portraying them as internalized stigma. 53 While
Imagining the Balkans was a groundbreaking work in the 1990s within the light of the
end of the Cold War and the military conflicts in the former Yugoslavia, the dynamics on
50 Feinstein.
51 David A. Norris, review of Mythistory and Narratives of the Nation in the Balkans, ed.
Tatjana Aleksić, Slavic Review 67, no. 4 (winter 2008): 1004. [journal online]; accessed 10 Jul.
2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/27653049.
52 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979).
53 Ludmilla Kostova, review of The Balkans and the West: Constructing the European Other,
1945-2003, ed. Andrew Hammond, The Slavonic and East European Review 83, no. 4 (Oct.
2005): 752. [journal online]; accessed 10 Jul. 2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/
4214186.
15

the eve of the new twenty-first century demand more nuanced and sensitive approaches. 54
Catherine Portuges points out in 1992, “it is time to redefine ‘national’ in the context of
the Eastern European cinema and to acknowledge its intersecting visual and cultural
language.” 55 Dina Iordanova emphasizes, “the products of the various Balkan cinemas
cannot be considered creations of a cohesive group of people.” 56 Of course due to the
common geography and culture and legacy of the past as subjects of Pax Ottomana,
Balkan films are occupied with some similar themes, such as patriarchy, marginality,
stubbornness, resistance to authority, and the longing for shared and special ethnic
belonging. The cosmopolitan themes are also present in all Balkan cinemas, such as the
sense of universally distorted harmony, irrecoverable identities, and fin de siècle
sadness. 57
The differences among the separate Balkan countries have received little attention
so far. Scholars, such as Malcom Brandbury, for example, have failed to distinguish at all
between South-Eastern Europe and the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War. 58 My research
seeks to normalize the Bulgarian case, de-Balkanize the Balkans 59 , transcend the
54 Maria Todorova, Imagining the Balkans, updated ed. (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2009).
55 Portuges, 535.
56 Dina Iordanova, “Conceptualizing the Balkans in Film,” Slavic Review 55 no. 4 (winter
1996): 889. [journal online]; accessed 10 Jul. 2010; available from http://www.jstor.org/stable/
2501242.
57 Ibid.
58 Kostova, 753.
59 Balkanization and its denigrated impact on the Balkans were covered first and most in
depth by Maria Todorova in Imagining the Balkans. Todorova describes Balkanization to denote
parcelization of large and viable political units and also as a synonym for a reversion to the tribal,
16

simplistic “pattern of denigration” of the “murky,” “primitive” Balkans 60 and focuses
more on parallels and continuities between the East and the West.
The Balkans as a category almost disappeared during the Cold War era. As
Michael Haynes points out, “the meaning of the ‘East’ as a conceptual designator
changed as it came to betoken the ‘Soviet Empire’ rather than ‘the Orient’.” 61 Within this
context, countries with a “Balkanist” legacy, such as Bulgaria and Romania, had
similarities with Hungary, Poland and Czechoslovakia. 62 I aim to examine the perception
among many Bulgarian artists of “being strangers to themselves” 63 by assessing the
intricate and evolving relationship that Bulgarians have towards themselves from within,
avoiding stereotypes associated with their presumed “otherness” and stressing less the
obvious divergences between Bulgaria and the West. I argue that “the other” (the
Balkans) is part of “the self” (Europe), and we need to find the form, the voice, and the
ethical stand to represent it as part of a universal cultural heritage.
I aim to release the Balkan voices within Bulgarian context, by close textual
reading of the cinematic narrative and by drawing evidence predominantly upon archival,
historical, and critical sources produced by Bulgarian scholars and Bulgarian émigrés
conducting research in the field. On the wider level, my dissertation revisits cultural
the backward, the primate, the barbarian. The term implies reductionism and stereotyping of the
Balkans; Todorova, Imagining the Balkans, 3.
60 Ludmilla Kostova argues that the pattern of denigration exists in the Western discourse of
the region, especially since 1989. Kostova, 752.
61 Haynes cited in Kostova, 753.
62 Kostova, 753.
63 Julia Kristeva stressed the ethical importance of being “strangers to ourselves” in a speech
at Sofia University in 2002. Kristeva cited in Kostova, 754.
17

trends from the recent past. For us, to see the Cold War cultures from a new angle is
particularly relevant within the context of globalization and the advent of a large unified
Europe. Bulgaria joined NATO in 2004 and the European Union in 2007. In the
aftermath of 1989, the academic community has repeatedly witnessed the phenomenon of
“Communist nostalgia” across the East/West divide and a growing interest in the
processes of remembering Communism. 64 As Maria Todorova emphasizes, due to the
incipient rise of leftist orientation and a renewed awareness about leftist politics, the
elaboration of an adequate scholarly perspective on the Communist legacy seems
mandatory because people who still remember it as a lived experience are quickly dying
out. 65 Scholars must salvage from oblivion the memory that many fellow citizens want to
forget, to preserve a tradition that belongs to the less wealthy parts of the world, to
demonstrate that “the margins” are not less important than “the center,” and to dignify a
past that is to a large extent unappreciated and denigrated. 66
Many Europeans, as well as others caught up in the advent of globalization, are in
the process of rethinking their history, searching for common identity, discovering
common roots, realizing that open markets alone will not create a new Europe and a
unified global community. An in-depth examination of East European film, (with a focus
on a Balkan country), can demonstrate that the small players are as important as the big
64 Todorova, Remembering Communism, 16. Additional examples are offered in Maria
Todorova and Zsuzsa Gille, Post-Communist Nostalgia, (Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2010), and
Alla Efimova, “Communist Nostalgia: On Soviet Aesthetics and Post-Soviet Memory (Russia,
Visual Arts, Socialist Realism)” (Ph.D. diss., University of Rochester, 1998).
65 Todorova, Remembering Communism, 14.
66 Ibid., 15.
18

ones and that in order to better appreciate Europe as an unified entity, the inheritance of
each European country must be integrated within “the larger picture.”
I hope that my research will generate a more vigorous dialogue between what we
still consider the “West” and the “East,” inspire and provoke the creation and publication
of academic works about little known regions and stimulate critical reassessment of the
culture of the Cold War era.
19

CHAPTER 1
Behind the Curtain: Cultural Politics and the Formation of the Bulgarian Film Industry –
1940s and 1950s
You would think that nothing existed now except ideas of violent
revolutions. But everything in history is revolution; even a renewal, a slow,
peaceful discovery. Away then with the preconceived idea of moral renewal which
needs, (on the part of the other people, the activists), violent action. Away with
this childish need for company and noise. 1
– Federico Fellini
The movie business is macabre. Grotesque. It is a combination of a
football game and a brothel. 2
– Federico Fellini
It’s terrifying when everything starts forming an image. 3
– Julia Kristeva
The Question of Periodization and Early Formation Patterns
This chapter explores the development of Bulgarian cinema after the Communist
coup d’état in 1944 and its institutionalization and evolution into an industry. It assesses
the transformation of a small enterprise, occupied with film production and represented
Pavese.
1 Federico Fellini, Fellini on Fellini (New York: Da Capo Press, 1996), 63, quoting Cesare
2 Ibid., 108.
3 Julia Kristeva, Intimate Revolt: The Powers and Limits of Psychoanalysis, vol. 2, trans.
Jeanine Herman (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 181.
20

y five major companies, into an institution and industry dominated by the state and
exploited for the purposes of indoctrination and propaganda.
In addition, the section assesses the complexities and paradoxes in this process.
It sheds light as to why the cineastes initially embraced the interference of the
government. It questions the relationship between the first pioneers and their state
sponsors. And finally, it looks at how the cultural policies of the Communist Party
evolved and affected the filmmakers and determined the future course of the life of the
industry.
Bulgarian film historians disagree about the exact point at which the film
enterprise developed into a film industry. 4 Critics writing during the Communist period
stress the view that “the birth” of Bulgarian cinema coincided with the date of the
Communist coup, the 9 th of September, 1944. 5 On the other hand, film critic Nedelcho
Milev points out that the first phase of the Bulgarian cinema started immediately after the
abolition of the monarchy, and more particularly on October 14, 1946, with the creation
of the first law for cinema culture. In his document we read that “the State starts taking
care and directing the right development of the cinema culture.” 6 Films made during this
period (1946–1948), such as People among the Clouds (Hora sred oblatzite) (1946), One
4 Alexander Janakiev, Sto Godischen Filmov Process: Lichnosti, Filmi, Kina (One Hundred
Years of Film Process: Personalities, Film, Cinema) (Sofia: IK Titra, 2002); Alexander Grozev,
Bulgarskiat Film i Kritikata (The Bulgarian Film and Critic). (Sofia: Nauka i Iskustvo, 1974).
5 Information about the coup may be found in Evgenia Kalinova and Iskra Baeva,
Bulgarskite Prechodi 1939–2005 (Bulgarian Transitions 1939 – 2005) (Sofia: Paradigma, 2006),
38-39.
6
Nedelcho Milev, “Partijata i Kinoiskustvoto” (The Party and the Film Art), Spisanie Kino,
(Journal Cinema), (1975): 12.
21

Wild World (Edin div svjat) (1948), by Zachari Zhandov 7 and The Long Way of the
Cigarette (Dalgiyat pat na tzigarata) (1948) by Boncho Karastojanov, already reflected
the enthusiastic spirit of the cineastes. According to Milev, during this initial stage, two
trends in film emerged: exploration of the life under the new dictatorship and a
fascination with the historical past, specifically the Bulgarian Renaissance in the late 19 th
century, occurring immediately after the declaration of Bulgarian independence from the
Ottoman Empire. 8 Milev and his contemporaries regard those early works as thematically
oriented, ideologically immature, and aesthetically lacking. 9 The weaknesses of the
filmmakers, according to Milev, provoked Party leaders to pass a new and more radical
law addressing Bulgarian cinematography. The law provided for the complete
nationalization of the industry, creating a central cinematic economic enterprise and
cultural leadership presiding over the entire process of filmmaking and distribution. 10
Many scholars see the adoption of the law for nationalization of cinematography as the
beginning of the industry. 11 Some schools of historians and film critics go even further,
7 As Ronald Holloway points out, although over fifty feature films had already been made in
Bulgaria when the filmmaker was called in to direct Alarm (Trevoga) (1951), this was the true
beginning for the young film industry. Zhandov belonged to the older generation of Bulgarian
filmmakers, who learned their trade before and during the Second World War, and had won
recognition abroad for his documentaries and short films: One Day in Sofia (Edin den v Sofia)
(1946), and People among the Clouds (Hora sred oblatzite) (1947), a First Prize winner at the
Venice Film Festival, the latter about weather stations. Ronald Holloway, The Bulgarian Cinema
(Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1986), 60.
8 The films New Days Lie Ahead (Shte doidat novi dni) (1945) and Struggle for Happiness
(Borba za shtastie) (1946) are prime examples.
9 Milev, 13.
10 Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 78, 5 April 1948.
11 Kurdzhilov.
22

indicating an even later starting point in 1950, when the film, Kalin the Eagle (Kalin
orelât), was first screened.
Before exploring the phenomenon of disparate cinema networks uniting to form
an industry, it is important to highlight some significant aspects of the history of film
before the late 1940s. The emergence of Bulgarian cinematography occurred in 1910 and
is connected with Dr. Vasil Gandov, who made the first three Bulgarian films.
The production of films in Bulgaria began in the 1920s, when the Ministry of
Education formed the State School of Cinematography (SSC). Even then, the ministry
took care of the film theaters in the country and selected their repertoire. 12 Another
institution that was in place before the creation of socialist cinematography was the
“Bulgarian Deed” foundation [Bulgarsko Delo, BD], formed in 1941. BD emerged as a
private enterprise and, paradoxically, remained in private hands until as late as 1948. This
hybrid organization stayed alive because its purpose remained fluid and politically
important, evolving from producing, at first, nationalist oriented newspapers such as
Dnes (Today), Vchera, (Yesterday), and Belomorska Bulgaria (White Sea Bulgaria), as
well as documentaries and complete films, into a propaganda distributing machine for the
new regime, helping the Communist Party in the creation of a new, entirely state-
sponsored industry dealing with film production. Interestingly, the foundation existed as
Bulgarian Deed from 1941 to 1948, when it transformed into the state-sponsored
umbrella institution, “Bulgarian Cinematography,” which lasted as such until 1991. 13
12 For more information on the history of film before 1944, consult Doncho Christov,
“Filmoviat Pechat v Bulgaria v Perioda na Njamoto Kino-1913–1930,” (The Film Press in
Bulgaria in the Period of the Silent Cinema – 1913–1930) Opit sa Estetika na Kinoto, (An
Attempt for Aesthetic in the Cinema) (Sofia: Isdanie na Sp. Nascheto Kino, 1929), 45–68.
23

In the post-World War One world, the Democratic Agrarian Party was in office for a very
short time. On June 9, 1923, it was overturned by a Fascist coup. Shortly after, the first
massive anti-Fascist uprising followed. It was put down by the dictatorship in a very
brutal manner. The 1920s in Bulgaria were a time of economic and political crises. Only
one significant film work was produced, “After the Fire over Russia” (Sled pojarut nad
Russija) (1929) by Boris Grezhov and Pancho Mihailov. 14 In 1926, the organization,
Bulgarian National Film Studio, established by film lovers and enthusiasts, emerged. The
goal of the organization was to create the foundational basis for educational facilities
involved in film production. Within three years, the founders [writers, scholars, and
intellectuals] were able to attract thirty young members, who willingly paid 100 leva per
month in membership fees, a substantial sum at the time. These young people were white
collar employees in banks and small business offices and their yearly salaries often did
not exceed 1500–2000 leva. 15
Despite generous donations, the film studio faced severe financial problems in the
late twenties and in order to be able to continue its mission it turned for help to the radical
nationalists. It was renamed “Khan Kubrat” (after the ruler credited with establishing the
confederation of Old Great Bulgaria in 632). Unfortunately, the brief flirtation with the
radical nationalist wing did not bring the expected capital and the National Film Studio
ceased its existence in the early 1930s. From then on, those who desired to receive
13 After 1991, “Bulgarian Cinematography” [Bulgarska Kinematographia] was closed, but
many of its subunits, such as regional cinematographies dealing with film distribution at the
regional level, the cinema laboratory “Distribution of Films”, and the cinema center “Boyana”
continued to exist.
14 Kurdzhilov, 32.
15 Janakiev, 62.
24

education in film paid tuition and received lectures in the mail. At least, the lectures were
of high quality because they were written by film experts such as Eisenstein, Podvodkin
and Lubich. The official history of the Bulgarian film education starts in 1973 when the
first academic institution for the pursuit of film studies and filmmaking was created by
the Communist regime.
During the 1920s, the Bulgarian market was dominated by German and American
films. Between 1924 and 1925, a total of 358 films were screened nationally. 16 The
advent of sound in Bulgarian cinema began on March 20 and 24, 1930, when two major
theaters screened the first films with sound tracks. Due to the poor quality of sound
equipment, the “most significant transition in the aesthetic of cinema” seemed less
impressive in Bulgaria. 17 In 1933, Vassil Gendov managed with the help of Austrian
firms to make and screen the first Bulgarian sound film The Slaves Revolt (Buntut na
robite). This film was a melodrama devoted to the national liberation struggle. Otherwise,
the cinematographic ambience in the 1930s did not differ from the 1920s. Despite the
pioneering efforts of many intellectuals, the prevalent atmosphere was one of chaos,
semi-professionalism, and occasional artistic achievements. Due to the lack of a steady
financial base, most of the film productions were doomed to failure. Another major
problem was related to the backwardness of the available technology. 18
As already discussed, institutions dealing with film production and distributions
were in place prior to both 1944 and 1948. However, even if Bulgarian Cinematography
16 Of this total, 36.6% were from Germany, 29.3% from the USA, 24.3% from France, 6.1%
from Italy, 2.5% from Denmark and 1.1% from the Soviet Union. Ibid., 73.
17 Ibid., 85.
18 Kurdzhilov, 34.
25

emerged before the coming of the Communists to power, it was completely transformed
and expanded between 1945 and 1989 and mobilized, as such, for the needs of the state.
The facts in the next sections will demonstrate that despite the strong presence of a
visible and established cultural tradition in filmmaking before 1944, the process of the
film enterprise as an industry started crystallizing precisely with the coming of the
Communists to power in 1944.
The Creation Begins
The government started a campaign for creation and transformation of separate
networks into one cinematography immediately after the coup. The Party members who
showed most initiative were Ivan Fitchev, Georgui Georguiev, Strashimir Raschev, Vasil
Holiolchev, and Pantelei Mateev, among others. Those men had very clear visions of the
needs of the Bulgarian cinema and of the tasks that lay ahead of them. The Soviet model
of dealing with the cinema on all levels was already in place, and they all agreed that they
should follow it in a very exact manner. 19 First and most importantly, they had to deal
with censoring old newsreels, the most important propaganda tool, especially between
1944 and 1948, which were shown before films, and then they had to create new ones. 20
They also reduced ticket prices in theaters across the country. In close cooperation with
Soviet cadres, both parties agreed it was important that Bulgaria become a crucial center
for cinema in the Balkans and that this center produce at least three to four films made by
19 See Janakiev; Grozev, 182.
20 The new newsreel chronicles were intended to glorify the policies of the Communist Party
showing the beauty of the simple and comfortable life under Communism.
26

Soviet directors. Bulgarian actors and directors based their story lines on Bulgarian
themes. 21 The decisions made by the Party leaders behind the cinematography at that time
became visible through the issuing of several laws concerning the cinema. The legislation
passed between 1946 and 1948 will be assessed in the following sections. 22
By 1945, the Communist Party established major goals of the Bulgarian cinema.
Among the most important were the training of highly professional and educated
performers, the building of a national cinema center, and the creation of an agenda
dealing with “cinematizing” the country and elevating the cinema culture to the highest
possible levels. 23 In 1945, the Brothers Vassilev, famed Soviet film directors, visited the
country. The following year, Bulgarian and Soviet cinematographers started working on
the first joint film production, the documentary Earth, Culture and Life of the Bulgarian
People (Zemja, kultura i shivot na Bulgarite). The director Roman Kazman and his crew
reviewed and brought to the Soviet Union large amounts of Bulgarian archival material
and photographs. One prominent Bulgarian who collaborated as a film director on these
ventures was Zachari Zhandov.
The Bulgarian People’s Assembly voted for a 10 million leva budget for the
production of the film. Party officials planned to debut the film on the Bulgarian national
holiday of September 9, 1946. However, this very short deadline was unattainable, and
21
It is interesting to mention that at this point highly qualified and trained Bulgarian
directors did not exist.
22 For example, before the end of 1944 there was already a project for firm state control of
the import and distribution of films, which became law in 1946. It was called the “Law for
Cinema Culture” [Zakon za Kinokultura].
23 Bulgarian National Film Archive, fond Bulgarsko Delo (Bulgarian Deed), n.d.
27

the film was not screened in many Bulgarian cinema theaters until March 1947. 24 The
Party collaborated with the filmmakers in helping to attract celebrities from the West to
the country. Of course, correct political orientation was a condition for an invitation.
In May 1947, the well-known Dutch film director and devoted Communist, Joris
Ivens, arrived in Bulgaria. At the same time, he was working on a documentary entitled
The Four Democracies in which he wanted to show life in Bulgaria, Poland,
Czechoslovakia, and Yugoslavia. 25 By the end of the same year, the Soviet scriptwriter
Constantine Isaev visited the country in order to assist Bulgarian scriptwriters and to
participate in a conference with Bulgarian writers. 26
The few examples indicated that already during the early periods of Communist
rule, serious attempts were made to elevate the status of the Bulgarian filmmakers by
establishing international contacts expected to provide the future industry with the
necessary prestige and an aura of cosmopolitanism. Clearly, the major goal of the
interactions between the Soviet cineaste and their Bulgarian counterparts was not only to
improve the technical skills of their Balkan colleagues but also to help them acquire the
habit of applying the socialist realism method to their works. 27
24 Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 93, 1946.
25 His new film was entitled The First Years (Pierwsze lata) (1947). Central State Archive
(CSA), fond (f.) 2, opis (op.) 1, archival unit (a.e.) 43, list 11–12, n.d.
26 Alexander Alexandrov, “Bulgarskoto Kino i Nationalizatiata, 1944–1948” (Bulgarian
Film and Nationalization), Kinorabotnik (Filmworker) 7 (1979): 24.
27 Socialist realism was an ideological and hyperdramatic, heroic artistic style imposed by
the government on the filmmakers in the Eastern Bloc in order to use art as propaganda. For more
information see Chavdar Popov, Totalitarnoto Izkustvo: Ideologia, Organizatia, Praktika
(Totalitarian Art: Ideology, Organization, Practice) (Sofia: St. Kliment Ohridski University Press,
2004), 105–119.
28

In addition, the government realized that in order to run a powerful industry it
needed practitioners who had at least an elementary knowledge in the realm of
cinematography and photography. The Bulgarian Deed foundation organized evening
classes to prepare young people who had interest in this enterprise. 28 In 1946, one
hundred people registered for such classes, paying 2000 leva in total. The course
appeared to be a success, because in 1946 the legislation concerning filmmaking was
expanded.
“The Law for Cinema Culture” [Zakon za Kinokultura], which will be assessed in
the following sections, added a new chapter with a special section entitled
“pravosposobnost” [legal rights]. Article 16 stated: “The Foundation Bulgarian Deed has
opened a technical school for cinema and phototechnique, which functions under the
close supervision of the Ministry of Information and the Arts.” 29 In 1947, the cinema
course ran for six months and, in 1949, the first college for cinematography and
phototechnique was created on one of the central streets of Sofia (Ivan Schishman). The
ground level of “the college” was a studio; the second floor was a classroom, where a
screening room was also built. Unfortunately, the school was closed in 1952 by the
director of the Bulgarian Cinematography. The reasons for its closure are not entirely
clear. The dearth of schools for higher education and technical training posed a serious
challenge for the education of Bulgarian filmmakers, who almost never had the chance,
for good or bad, to receive an education in their home country. Nevertheless, the
technical school prepared many important professionals who would play major roles in
28 CSA, f. 2, op. 1, a.e. 87, list 44, 1946.
29 Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 235, 1946.
29

the development of Bulgarian cinematography in the coming decades. As already
discussed in the previous sections, Bulgaria was able to create its own prestigious film
school, first in 1973. Until then, Bulgarian filmmakers traditionally received their
education in the Soviet Union, Czechoslovakia or France. The two leading nations with
the oldest and most established cinematic educational traditions were Czechoslovakia and
the USSR, which had specialized film schools, such as FAMU [the Film and Television
Faculty of the Academy of Performing Arts] in Prague and Moscow’s VGIK
(Vsesoyuznyi Gosudarstvennyi Institut Kinematografii) [All-Union State Institute of
Cinematography]. 30
Because no domestic educational institutions for the training of filmmakers
existed, Bulgarian Deed had already made efforts during the 1940s to send students
abroad. Lacking sufficient funds and encountering other obstacles, the project was
initially unsuccessful. But the foundation, in close coordination with the government, did
not give up and further efforts were made in 1956 to send ten Bulgarian students to the
All-Union State Institute of Cinematography (VGIK) in Moscow. 31
The following years were devoted to efforts by both Bulgarian Deed and the
Communist Party to send as many Bulgarian students as possible not only to schools of
higher education in the Soviet Union but also to arts programs in Czechoslovakia and
France. In 1947, the first group of Bulgarian students went to Moscow. Included were
the scriptwriters Christo Ganev, Angel Wagenstein and Burjan Enchev, directors Borislav
Sharaliev and Dako Dakovski, cameraman Isak Schekerchiiski and montage specialists
30 Dina Iordanova, Cinema of the Other Europe: The Industry and Artistry of East Central
European Film (London: Wallflower Press, 2003), 22.
31 Bulgarian National Film Archive, fond Bulgarsko Delo (Bulgarian Deed), n.d.
30

Katja Vasileva and Katja Petrova. 32 Bulgarian Deed negotiated with the French
government to allow five to ten students per year to specialize at the Institute for
Cinematography [L’École Nationale Supérieure Louis-Lumière] in Paris. It is a fact,
indeed, that Bulgarian Deed, in partnership with the Ministry of Culture, made great
efforts, mostly successful, to resolve the problems related to the shortage of film
specialists between 1944 and 1948. They also made progress in terms of raising the bar
when it came to hiring new staff, as they did their best to increase the qualifications of
existing film specialists and to employ people whose résumés were promising. On the
other hand, by establishing courses for beginners, they laid the foundation for the
expansion of the film industry.
During the first years of its creation, the Bulgarian Deed foundation owned four
film cameras, one machine for montage (cutting) and one copy machine. In 1944, the
foundation planned to invigorate Bulgarian cinematography by importing equipment
from the Soviet Union. In return, the Bulgarian industry would release part of its filming
capacity for the needs of Soviet cinematography. The foundation planned to function as
the major cinematographic enterprise in the Balkans, helping Soviet films more easily
reach countries such as Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, and perhaps Hungary. 33
Furthermore, Bulgarian Deed needed to borrow a machine with which to work on the
sound of the films. Completed movies also had to be sent to other private firms to be
developed. Despite the scarcity of equipment, each professional needed to own a movie
camera in order to be included in the network. It is important to mention that this practice
32 Alexander Alexandrov, “Socialisticheskoto Igralno Kino, 1950–1956” (Socialist Cinema
1950–1956), Kinorabotnik (Filmworker) 5 (1980): 10.
33 CSA, f. 2, op. 1, a.e. 109, list 100, 1944.
31

existed for a long time. Even after the period of nationalization (1948), only nineteen
people continued to own their own cameras, which gave them the status of
professionals. 34
The foundation needed to supply gifted individuals with cameras, and finding
equipment for filmmaking was no simple task throughout postwar Europe. By the end of
1946, the cinema department of Bulgarian Deed had just eleven cinema cameras and
seven montage tables at its disposal. To grow further, its only hope was to turn its
attention to securing good business deals with cinematographers from abroad.
Alexander Janakiev describes a story that illustrates very well the adventurous
and naïve ways in which business was conducted among the cinematographers during the
first years of the post-World War II era. 35 In 1945, Bulgarian Deed discovered it could
buy machines for screening films and other cinematic equipment from Hungary, and it
struck the following deal: Bulgaria offered the Hungarians furs valued at 3315 leva, and
700 kilograms of cigarettes. In the first days of March 1946, the department responsible
for international trade allowed the foundation to pursue the deal. Bulgarian Deed rushed
to buy the furs from the city of Gabrovo. At the end of the month, “the fur-expert” and
well-known film director, Janosh Sabo, examined the furs and concluded that they were
not of the best quality, yet the Hungarian filmmakers would accept them. However, he
suggested delaying the deal, expressing concerns that political and military complications
on the border with Hungary were possible.
34 Janakiev, 189.
35 Ibid, 189–191.
32

Ignoring Sabo’s warning, for unknown reasons, on March 5 a Bulgarian
delegation prepared to depart for Budapest with an automobile and one truck, loaded with
cigarettes and furs. On April 17, three Bulgarians, the director Dr. Borov, the controller,
Nenov, and the driver Zanov, arrived in Budapest. Now the difficulties really began
because, predictably, the Hungarian customs evaluated the furs as low quality and refused
to make them available for retail. The Bulgarian delegation started looking for ways to
solve the crisis. The only solution would be to export the goods to a third country. Later
in April, driver Zanov with the cigarettes left Hungary, arriving in Vienna. Subsequently,
French occupational garrison troops confiscated a large amount of tobacco. Due to the
protests of the Bulgarians, the cigarettes finally did reach Hungary but 110 kilograms
were missing. The Bulgarian delegation was able to sell the pelts in Czechoslovakia.
While the Bulgarian Embassy staff in Budapest dealt with all the obstacles, the
Hungarians sold the promised film equipment to a third party. The Bulgarian delegation
sent to purchase apparatus for filmmaking had to wait in Hungary for the arrival of new
equipment. On July 8, a letter from the Bulgarian military attaché in Hungary, General
Mateev, reached the Bulgarian Ministry for Foreign Affairs. Mateev reported that the
Bulgarian delegation had stayed in Hungary far too long, wasting state money and using
state cars for private purposes. Mateev suggested that Bulgarian Deed could buy the
needed equipment more easily on the black market.
It is difficult to judge the behavior of the Bulgarians in Hungary, but it is clear
that the general had little understanding of how impossible it was to find equipment for
filmmaking. On July 18, the trucks returned with ten screening cameras, 290 screening
lamps, an “Arioflex” film camera, and two “Leica” photo cameras. The arrival of
33

substantially more equipment was anticipated. This incident, “The Hungarian Affair,”
marked one of the important chapters in the beginning of the film industry in Bulgaria.
To sum up, the years after the Communist coup d’état (September 9, 1944) were
years of constant struggle to supply the industry with technical tools, chemicals, and
other basic necessities. The industry could have stopped functioning at any time solely
from lack of important operational materials. 36
Despite the difficulties in the first years after 1945, Bulgarian cinematography,
represented by the Bulgarian Deed foundation, produced an array of films such as: One
Day in Sofia (Edin den v Sofia) (1946), Faith against Madness (Vjara i ludost) (1946),
and People among the Clouds (Hora sred oblatzite) (1947). The problems encountered
by the pioneers of Bulgarian cinematography were not unique. In the postwar decade,
similar difficulties were experienced across Europe. 37
Further Growth and Consolidation of Power
The Bulgarian film industry faced challenges not only in creating an advanced
intelligentsia and due to the lack of film equipment but also issues such as where the
films would be made. Here the cineastes agreed that a national film center must be
created. Yet, for a long time to come, the idea of a modern cinema center remained a
dream. The difficulties surrounding its building were countless. By 1945, it appeared that
the dream would soon become a reality as the foundation began searching for the best
36 CSA, f. 2, op. 1, a.e. 109, list 100, 1948.
37
For more information consult Pierre Sorlin, European Cinemas, European Societies 1939–
1990 (London: Routledge, 1991).
34

place for the building of a film studio. The representatives of the foundation deliberated
between two Bulgarian villages close to the capital—Boyana and Dragalevzi. At the
same time, they needed to advance the project’s financing.
The foundation decided to borrow from the Bulgarian Land Union Bank, though
this loan first had to receive the approval of the Parliament [The People’s Assembly],
which passed major legislation allowing the foundation to borrow the money. Under the
patronage of the government, the sum of 110 million leva was allocated for the building
of a modern cinema center. 38 This legislation marked a sharp turning point in the history
of Bulgarian filmmaking. From now on, the affairs of the state and the film industry
became closely intertwined. On June 6, 1946, Vladimir Batashov, the chief engineer and
technician of the Ministry of Cinematography of the USSR arrived in Sofia. After two
months of investigations, on July 30, 1946, Batashov delivered a report about the future
structuring of the Bulgarian cinema center. This contributed to the addition of a new
paragraph (No. 10) in “The Law for the Cinema Culture” on October 14, 1946. This
clause clearly underscored that with the help and support of the Bulgarian Deed
foundation, a new Bulgarian cinema center was on its way. 39 The state and the film
industry continued to grow together because now the government not only supported the
enterprise but also was obliged to build a film studio. For the advancement of the project,
at the end of 1946, Bulgarian Deed created an office that would oversee the building and
architectural processes related to the new cinema center. Bulgarian specialists, as well,
38 The Law for the Cinema Culture [Zakon za Kinokultura] was first published in Durjaven
Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 93, April 1946.
39 Ibid.
35

visited studios in Moscow and Prague in order to observe the life of large and already
well-established studios such as Mosfilm and Barandov.
On June 20, 1947, Michail Visotzki, director of the building project for “Bolshoi
Mosfilm,” the major cinema studio in the Soviet Union, arrived in Bulgaria, and George
Baranov arrived in Bulgaria. Barandov, the major architect of the film studio in Moscow,
had already had the opportunity to visit the largest and most famous studios around the
world. With the visit of these two prominent experts, the building of the cinema center
entered a new mature phase. It is interesting to mention that initially a commission
contemplated using as the cinema center a building that comprised the quarters of a
religious seminary. The seminary was located in the middle of a beautiful park complex
in the midst of Sofia’s most prestigious areas of refurbished neighborhoods. However, a
council of the Ministry for Internal Affairs rejected the request and the seminary became
a “castle” for the Young Pioneers Communist youth organization, where children and
adolescents were trained in artistic performances, such as ballet and theater. Hence the
cinema studio remained on the outskirts of Sofia.
After nationalization, some private firms collaborated in the building of the
cinema center. First, upon the adoption of the Law for Nationalization [Zakon za
Nationalizatia] on April 5, 1948, those firms merged under a common umbrella
organization called the “State Cinematography” and continued to operate more or less in
its old form. Of course, there is no question that Bulgarian Deed took the lead among the
various firms. An excerpt of an interview with one of the member firms that merged into
the body called “The Bulgarian Cinematography” [Bulgarska Kinematographia] provides
36

a glimpse into the modus operandi of the firms and the motivational reasons behind their
collaboration with the powerful of the day.
In fact, none of us has become rich from filmmaking. Just the opposite, all
people involved in film production are burdened by heavy debts. We worked
because we were idealists and loved our work. Our labor, energy, and the love for
our work were qualities that counted.
It was not capital [that motivated us], which was often just created on
paper in order to please lawyers but it was nonexistent in reality. In order to form
a company we needed to place in the bank just one-third of the capital needed for
it. After a couple of days, we would take the money from the bank and we would
give it back to another bank from which we borrowed it at the beginning. How did
we make a living? We used the mortgage given to the major founders, from those
who had faith in our integrity, decency, and potentials. 40
This passage highlights the idealistic spirit characteristic of the pioneers who
made the existence of the film industry a reality. It provides the answer as to why the
filmmakers were eager to accept any help, even if it came from an oppressive state
mechanism. Were they aware of the Faustian bargain in which they were willing
participants? Did they know about the consequences? These questions will be answered
more in depth in the following chapters. Idealism and desperation played a large part in
the willingness of the filmmakers to collaborate with the government. In addition, they
obviously had little or no choice.
Which companies comprised the corpus of “Bulgarian Cinematography”? Some
of the most prominent included the company “Victory Film,” which started operating in
1943. It was created by the Bulgarian cameraman Emil Raschev; the director of film
management, Alexander Bichev; and the director of film planning, Peter Popiordanov.
The goal of the three was to create a modern Bulgarian cinema laboratory. During the
first years of their work, they spent time searching for ways to provide the necessary
40 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 122, list 14, 1948 (author’s translation).
37

machinery for the functioning of the laboratory, and in 1945, after the machines were
acquired, their work commenced. The company serviced the needs of the Bulgarian
Deed foundation by copying and cutting the films produced there. They also took orders
from Sovietexportfilm and from Czechoslovakian companies.. The growth of Bulgarian
film production during 1945 forced the members of Victory Film, one of the five most
important private companies which were nationalized according to Article 4 of the Law
of Nationalization, to search for ways to expand capacity. Its budget alone comprised
half of the entire budget of the five companies. The second most important studio was
“Rila Film.” The major achievement of this company was the production of the film,
Again in Life (Pak v zhivota), a work of high professional quality during the period 1944–
1948. This corporation also created the film studio “Tulovo 2.”
Paradoxically, private initiative in Bulgaria was flourishing in the days after the
Communist coup. Why? In fact, after the days of the coup, the degree of dislocation in
all levels of society was high. Chaos in Europe during the post-World War II decade was
widespread as well. New and old governments alike were not sure about the exact course
of their actions. Due to several historical factors, the Soviet Union considered Bulgaria as
one of its most docile allies and did not hurry to send direction or to interfere in the
domestic politics of its new satellite. Equally important is that, historically, cinema is an
art that has particularly flourished in times of social, economic, and political turmoil. 41
41 The Weimar Republic is a good example.
38

Films as Propaganda
Despite the superficially tolerant attitude of the Communist Party towards the
existence of private firms until 1948, and its financial support for the film making
enterprise, in the first days after the 1944 coup, the government started contemplating a
fanatical campaign for ideological indoctrination of the population. The most important
role in this project was given to the cinema. At least in theory, the Bulgarian government
launched in 1945 a vigorous campaign for “kinefication” of the population. The term
refers to the use of films as a propaganda tool. This method was taken straight from
Lenin’s idea about “film as the most important art.” A report issued on December 20,
1945 by Bulgarian Deed testifies to the efforts to use film as a means for mobilization
and indoctrination and as an attempt to penetrate the backward and very often ignorant
countryside. For the purposes of reinventing film as the most important art, subservient
only to the needs of the new regime, ten groups were created. The groups were
responsible for film screenings across the country. Each unit serviced fourteen villages.
The program was changed on a biweekly basis. In total, the 140 villages comprised one-
third of all villages in the country that had electricity at the time. In order to reach the
most backward regions without electricity, the Party relied on “traveling cinemas.”
Government officials planned to increase the number of traveling cinemas from five to
fifteen and contemplated placing cinemas in villages by equipping schools, community
centers, and industrial buildings with movie theaters. 42
42 Liubomir Bojilov, “Kulturen Turnir na Fondatia Bulgarsko Delo is Selata na Nikopolska
Okolia” (Cultural Competition of the Bulgarian Deed in the Villages of the Nikopol Region), Den
(Day), February, 2, 1946.
39

The idea of using culture as a propaganda tool was not new. It was successfully
exploited by many dictatorial regimes coming to power in Europe during the 20 th century.
The goal of politicization of the media was particularly successful in the Mussolini and
Hitler regimes. 43 In fact, the effect of a film screening on a poorly educated and, in many
cases, illiterate inhabitant of a small Balkan village is not to be underestimated. As the
minister Dimo Kasasov commented in a speech in March 1946: “We experience
curiosities…the inhabitants of entire villages haven’t seen a film in their entire life.
Crowds of villagers form processions waiting for hours to see a movie, as it is a
miracle…” 44 Despite its success among the population, the kinefication campaign faced
practical difficulties and was criticized by the existing leadership until 1948, but
opposition was not quite silenced, especially during the first years following the coup.
After the Soviet Red Army entered Bulgaria on September 8, 1944, the
Communists and their allies, the Zveno [Link] group of radical intelligentsia,
authoritarians, Agrarians, and Social Democrats, operating under “Fatherland Front”
staged the coup on September 9 th . However, the Agrarians and the Communists could
not function together. Once Georgui Dimitrov took power over the government in 1945,
he orchestrated the elimination of all opposition to the Communists from 1945 through
1949. Many were executed such as the Agrarian leader Petkov in 1947. King Simeon and
his family escaped into exile that same year. By 1949, Dimitrov completely took over the
premiership, the government, the national assembly, army, and media. Some Agrarian
43 For more information see Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Fascist Modernities: Italy, 1922–1945
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001).
44 Ibid.
40

newspapers such as Front, however, could voice their views until 1949. 45 The opposition
newspaper Folk, testified to the possibility of hostility toward the government’s attempt
to turn cinema into a propaganda tool. The author of the article criticized the Communist
Party for demonstrating its might by using newsreels before movie screenings. The
journalist asked why 90% of all movies were preceded by reviews that underlined the
importance of the Party. As the writer emphasized, “The men in power are not disturbed
by the fact that Bulgarian film art today is just a tool full of shameful tendentiousness.
They are not disturbed by the fact that an art which serves as the arena for the struggle
between political intrigues is a lie.” 46
The angry voice of the journalist illustrated the opposition’s attitude, already
sensing that soon it would be entirely excluded from the social and political arena. The
author’s protest also highlighted the institutionalization and politicization of the cinema
world, which would become more pronounced in the following decades.
The kinefication program in practice showed some disappointing results. From a
Bulgarian Deed employee’s report, we learn that several obstacles surrounded the
screenings, including the lack of lighting and the lack of films. 47 Despite the hardships
characteristic of the early years of Communist power, the final results of the kinefication
campaign proved successful. By 1948, Bulgaria had 298 functioning cinema theaters and
forty-eight traveling movie theaters. The results indicate that within three and one-half
45
Misha Glenny, The Balkans: Nationalism, War, and the Great Powers, 1804–1999 (New
York: Penguin Books, 1999), 372.
46 Bulgarian National Film Archive, f. Bulgarsko Delo (Bulgarian Deed), n.d.
47 Ibid.
41

years the number of cinemas in the country had doubled. It is important to mention that
such robust growth was particularly true in the countryside.
Foreign Films Restricted
Insularity stood as another issue that the regime faced. Immediately, after
September 9, 1944, screenings of German, Italian and Hungarian films were stopped.
This measure created a huge void in the cinematic programming. The government started
searching for additional films, turning to the USA, France, and of course, the USSR.
According to statistical sources, in 1945 the film repertoire of the country was based on
316 films from eleven countries. More than half came from the USA and seventy-eight
from the Soviet Union. 48 The gap in the film repertoire informed the Party that if it
wanted to achieve ultimate success in its effort to use cinema as propaganda, it needed a
strong national cinema, which could guarantee the country’s self-sufficiency in terms of
film production. One of the major steps in this direction was the creation of additional
legislation that would bind the film industry to the Party. The Law of Cinema Culture,
mentioned in the previous sections in connection to financial credit that was needed for
building the new cinema center, now becomes subject to more in depth analysis in the
following section.
48 Alexander Alexandrov, “Repertoirat na Bulgarskiat Ekran, 1944–1969” (Repertoire of the
Bulgaria Screen 1944–1969), Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) 8 (1969): 13.
42

Legislation
The Law of Cinema Culture was adopted by the Parliament on September, 27,
1946, 49 replacing the existing legislation of 1930. One of its most important articles
(No. VII) dealt with the issues of film import and export, providing the Party with
absolute power over any type of film production and its distribution. Chapter I of the law
asserted that the state would care for the “proper” development of cinema culture, yet,
paradoxically, it also declared that the film enterprise in the country was “free.” In
addition, the law addressed the building of the national cinema center and ordered
Bulgarian Deed to create a technical school for the training of filmmakers. It also
appointed a commission that was supposed to deal with the censoring of films.
Surprisingly, the Party left to the filmmakers some private initiative, as well. For
example, some former owners of cinema theaters were reduced to the position of
middlemen acting on behalf of the state but were still considered “independent”
operators. After this law had passed, Bulgarian Deed gained access to a large number of
films and newsreels. This law marked the first step towards the transformation of the
cinema networks into a cohesive industry.
As a response to the drastic measures manifest in the legal document, England
and the USA requested the return of their films. This was another serious blow to the new
industry because those films comprised more than half of the foundation’s inventory. 50
Worried, Bulgarian Deed wrote a letter on November 12, 1946, to the commission
dealing with censorship, in which it stated that screening of Hungarian and Italian films
49 Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 235, October 1946.
50 CSA, f. 2, op. 1, a.e. 87, list 1, 1946.
43

must once again be allowed. To avoid a situation in which there would be a dearth of
available films, the government realized that it needed to compromise. In March 1947,
one hundred four old Hungarian films, initially removed from screening circulation, were
reassessed by the censors and made inaccessible to large audiences. 51
Nineteen forty-four and 1948 were years of dislocation, experimentation, and
open doors, but they were also a time of vigorous persecutions of the so-called enemies
of the state. Already in 1944, members from the cinema network were obliged by decree
“to clean up” their departments of “reactionaries, careerists, and people without talents”
and those of “no use” for work in the office. 52 The real purges started in 1947 when the
parliamentary opposition was abolished and some of its leaders were hanged or shot.
As the evidence demonstrated, the film industry in its early stages faced the
threefold problem of few professional practitioners, inadequate materials and operating
space, and a dearth of films. Despite the difficulties, between 1944 and 1948, the
Bulgarian film network produced films, such as New Days Lie Ahead (Shte doidat novi
dni) (1945), Bulgarians of Olden Times (Bulgari ot staro vreme) (1945), Trail of Fire
(Ognena dirya) (1946) , A Dragon Loves Me, Mother (Mene me, mamo, zmei lyiubi)
(1946), Faith for Happiness (Vjara i station) (1946), Again in Life (Pak v zhivota)
(1947), Boika (1947), and Redemption (Izkulplenie) (1947). The films are ambitious,
taking into consideration the circumstances under which they were made. They reflect in
many ways the new ideology and at the same time mirror the social dislocation prevalent
in Bulgarian society.
51 Ibid.
52 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 137, list 77, 1946.
44

The acute difficulties that the Bulgarian cinematography encountered encouraged
the creation of a new and even more radical piece of legislation, which beginning in 1946
replaced the existing Law of Cinema Culture in its entirety. The new law, passed on April
5, 1948, was entitled the Law of Cinematography [Zakonut za Kinematographiata]. 53
Where the old law had left some opportunity for private initiative, the new one
aimed at total nationalization of cinema production and distribution. The Bulgarian Deed
foundation, which was legally a private foundation, became a state department called
Bulgarian Cinematography [Bulgarska Kinematographia]. With this law, the transition
toward a socialist and state-sponsored film industry was complete. The law permitted
drastic measures, such as the seizing and nationalization of all cinema theaters and firms
dealing with film production in the country. 54
The implementation of the law was a long and painful process that continued until
1952 and had tragic consequences for many people involved in film production and
distribution across the country. The major problem that the government faced was how
exactly to compensate the persons who were losing their businesses. Many documents
testify to the hardships accompanying the confiscation of private property.
Nationalization Begins
State employers started composing meticulous descriptions and drawings of film-
making materials and locations, everything that needed to be nationalized, from the exact
53 Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper), No. 78, April 1948.
54
It is interesting to note that it first was replaced in 2001, more than a decade after the fall
of Communism.
45

size of every room to the number of screwdrivers and light bulbs Thousands of pages of
documents testify to a massive campaign of cinema theater and film inventory
nationalization. 55 Occasionally, the authorities confiscated not only the movie theaters
but also the buildings adjacent to them, including basements and backyards. When an
entire building was confiscated under the pretext that it serviced the cinema, the owner of
the building received a “compensation” of 10 % of the appraised value of the property. 56
Most of the compensations were paid not in cash but in state bonds, and in cases in which
the government agreed to pay cash, the payments came in small monthly allotments. In
other instances, a cinema’s surplus operating dollars from previous years would be highly
exaggerated, which allowed the authorities to determine that only minimal compensation
to cinema owners should be made. Very often a so-called tax for revenues coming from
exploitation was deducted from the amount which the state was supposed to pay to the
former owners. 57
On March 25, 1949, cinema theater owner Kiril Panaiotov wrote a petition to the
Bulgarian Union of Cinematographers. Panaiotov had lived in America as an emigrant
until 1924, employed as a railway worker. With considerable sacrifice, he saved just
enough money to return to Bulgaria, where in his hometown Bourgas, together with his
partner Kosta Risov, he purchased a building and transformed it into a movie theater.
Panaiotov insisted that his property’s value had increased because of years of honest
55 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 1371, list 2–4, 1949.
56 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 5, list 6, 1949.
57 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 2, list 1, 1949.
46

work, hoping that the government would compensate him with 6,000,000 leva ($40,000
US).
Another letter followed, dated June 6, 1949, written by the widow of Panaiotov’s
partner, Stefka Risova. He had passed away in 1947. Stefka explained that their cinema
had been nationalized in 1948 and since then, despite their numerous letters, the former
owners had not heard from the authorities. Stefka begged the Bulgarian Cinematography
to help her financially, since she and her children were ill. She asked for only 80,000 leva
($533 US). Attached to the letter was a doctor’s note that confirmed that Risova was
suffering from cancer, arthritis, and high blood pressure and was unable to make a living.
Another note testified that her son Krastio Risov suffered from schizophrenia and was
also unable to work. 58 In an earlier letter in March, Risova explained how her husband,
as well, had acquired capital as a worker in Asia and North America and that their
property existed not as a product of “exploitation” but as a result of honest work and
sacrifice. The two letters remained unanswered.
The owners had to pay additional income taxes. In many instances, owners of
films, movie theaters, and equipment for screening and filmmaking were only able to
afford necessary items by accumulating large debts. Their pleas, to be relieved at least
from the income tax, also remained unanswered by the authorities. In another letter,
citizen Georgi Georgiev humbly begged the state not to confiscate his amateur movie
camera with which he chronicled his family life. 59 The letters highlight the fact that the
Law of 1948 was far from perfect. By not acknowledging the painful implications of total
58 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 17, list 8, n.d.
59 CSA, f. 383, op. 1, a.e. 147, list 19, n.d.
47

confiscation of private property without having in mind an exact strategy for the
compensation of the owners, the Party made a serious mistake. From a modern point of
view, as Alexander Janakiev comments, the largest mistake that the Party made was that
the new law did not merely modify but entirely replaced the old one. While the original
Law of Cinema Culture attempted to promote cinematography by allowing state
involvement without complete state domination, the second law, on the other hand,
provided for full control of the cinema industry. 60
During the late 1940s, the government had more pressing priorities than the
appropriate compensation of the owners of cinemas, films, and film equipment. Still, the
administration in power maintained meticulous accounts of detailed inventories of
confiscated property. Another goal of the authorities, besides the implementation of the
October 1948 law for nationalization, was the confiscation of all foreign pictures
imported into the country. After the confiscation, long lists were formed, indicating the
films that should be made available for screening and the films that should be suppressed.
Among the prohibited works were even adaptations of Shakespearian plays.
Evaluation of the Start
What has so far been stated demonstrates that the first years of the life of
Bulgarian cinematography were permeated with an experimental spirit, enthusiasm, and
idealism on the part of the people involved in the industry. The state, on the other hand,
tried to “control” the industry by aggressively interfering in its life. The Party
transformed the nascent film networks, shaping but also repressing them in an attempt to
60 Janakiev, 212.
48

subordinate them to its own needs. The period marks many achievements, such as the
building of the first technical schools, the education of promising film students and
professionals throughout Europe, the creation of a highly qualified intelligentsia, the
development of new cinema center, and the establishment of a legal foundation for the
existence of the industry.
The law appears vague because, besides the provision that everything needed to
be nationalized and that the state had a monopoly over culture; it did not specify how this
control was going to be exercised. This fact, on the one hand, had a paralyzing effect on
the industry by keeping its members in constant fear of what to expect. On the other
hand, it provided a vacuum in which different interpretations and experimentation took
root. The uneasy relationship between the Communists and the new cultural elite
continued, and it remains the leitmotiv of this cinematic work. In fact, history and the
universe were a safe refuge from which the artists could express their feelings toward the
present. The Party wanted absolute control but it lacked a vision of how to implement it.
The powerful, threatening façade of Communism was built around a void. Exactly this
tension between ambition to project power and a lack of content behind that ambition
gave many artists the opportunity to manipulate the system and to discover a space for
free expression and creative opportunity. The search for free expression within the limits
imposed by the state would be especially pronounced during the 1950s, after the
transition to a more stable period in the development of Bulgarian cinematography.
The Creative and the Critical
Film critic Milev commented in the 1970s that the major themes occupying the
filmmakers during the 1940s were subjects of universal or historical nature, rather than
49

epresentation of the glory of Communism. The protagonists of those works were often
represented as skeptics, constantly doubting and questioning their reality, and “caught
somewhere in the middle.” 61
In 1949, one of the leaders of the Communist Party, Traicho Kostov, was falsely
accused as a traitor by the leader of the Party, Vulko Tchervenkov, also known as Little
Stalin, and his entourage. Those were just the first grinding movements of a mechanism
which would be especially active during the 1950s and beyond. Another major
repressive technique of the regime was to encourage grassroots purges within Bulgarian
cinematography. This method proved particularly efficient. It stimulated fear and
suspicion among members of particular branches; it created atomization and demoralized
the intelligentsia, preventing the building of collective consciousness and solidarity,
which, of course, discouraged protest movements and underground activities.
How did the mechanism of “self-purging” operate? Sometimes, a literary journal
published an article about a person who was not directly connected to the cinema world.
In some cases this article provoked academic debates in the pages of journals and
newspapers. In other cases, measures by the Party were taken immediately, such as
issuing declarations, suppressing films, and thereby manipulating human destinies. 62
The role of the critic in the world of culture during the Cold War era was
controversial and interesting. In fact, very often by criticizing the West the critic aimed a
message “between the lines.” By exposing the weaknesses of Western art, the writer
attempted to familiarize the reader, who was not able to gain access to this mostly
61 Nedelcho Milev, Kino (Cinema) (1975): 19.
62 Janakiev, 220.
50

censored information, with fascinating aspects of Western culture. However, by labeling
the works of others as decadent and penetrated by Western influences, the critics were
also able to ruin the careers and lives of many of their colleagues and fellow
intellectuals. 63
The hostile attitude of the press against “the cosmopolitans,” as some filmmakers
were called, was reflected particularly well in the Soviet press during the Stalinist period.
The spying and denunciation among intellectuals was a consequence of the politics of
“self-purging.” It persisted as a sinister practice during the entire Cold War era. For
example, a special Ministry of the Cinematography was created 1946, which had to deal
with identifying and “purging” more liberally minded filmmakers. Zhdanov acted as
Stalin’s cultural “commissar.” 64 Despite the fact that in the Bulgarian case, solidarity
existed between film critics and filmmakers, some critics, such as Vladimir Karakashev,
acted as apparatchniks and spies for the establishment. In Bulgaria, the studios had an
artistic Communist Party ideological department. Supervisionally independent, the
collectives composed by artists were encouraged to intensely criticize their colleagues.
Sometimes in the heat of the debate filmmakers slipped and unintentionally labeled the
work of their fellows as “expressing doubt against the good intentions of the Party.” 65
Another disguise of the politic of self-purging was the phenomenon of self-
censorship as a form of artistic conformism and a direct result of the state’s treatment of
63 A good example is the work by Ivailo Znepolski, Mezdu Otchujdenieto i Nasilieto:
Processi v Savremennia Sapaden Film (Between Alienation and Violence: Processes in
Contemporary Western Film) (Sofia: Narodna Mladezh, 1974).
64
Richard Taylor et al., eds., The BFI Companion to Eastern European and Russian Cinema
(London: BFI Publishing, 2000), 226.
65 Ibid., 44–45.
51

the intelligentsia as a highly prestigious social group. However, as Dina Iordanova points
out:
[W]hile there are a number of well known embarassing examples of
censorship from all countries in the Eastern Bloc, within the ideologicalle tense
atmosphere of the Cold War censorship in the region was often given
disproportionate attention by commentators in the West…When discussing
censorship it is imperative to avoid simplistic explanation … 66
In fact the mechanisms of cultural control were subtile, complex, and divergent across the
Eastern Bloc. In Bulgaria, the most energetic censors came from the ranks of the
intellectual elite but were well known as protégés of the Party. 67
While at the end of the 1940s, the Party was preoccupied with the nationalization
of private property, during the 1950s the Cinematography started actively dealing with
film production. First, special attention was directed at the issue of how to control and
coordinate the schedules of actors who worked for the film industry but at the same time
were fully employed actors at local theaters. 68
The Party started dealing with foreign relations as well. A committee for the
sciences, arts, and culture was created, and one of its subcommittees was occupied with
“international affairs.” Its members planned to create, beginning in 1952, a special
month devoted to Bulgarian-Soviet camaraderie which was to take place between
September 15 and October 15. The month would honor the Soviet Union and Stalin as the
greatest ally and benefactor of the Bulgarian nation and celebrate peace and friendship.
66 Cinema of the Other Europe, 33.
67
Film and theater critic Karakashev and the writer and scriptwriter Bogomil Rainov are
good examples.
68 CSA, f .383, op. 5, a.e.1.2, list 10, 1952.
52

Also, the subcommittee was in charge of publishing periodic criticisms of the “American
and English imperialists,” their banks and their allies in the Balkans, such as Tito’s fascist
clique, and the Greek monarchists and Turkish reactionaries. 69 The month would also
celebrate the cult of Vulko Tchervenkov. 70 Every city and village in the country was
obliged to participate. The Bulgarian Cinematography was asked to make available for
screening only films related to the subject, exposing the dark sides of capitalism while
glorifying the Soviet Union, or to make its halls available for other events devoted to the
subject and exhibition of Soviet art. The Cinematography was also ordered to mobilize
several traveling cinemas showing only Soviet films. Large sums of money were
invested in sending performers, writers, and traveling cinemas, to border regions,
especially with Yugoslavia, Greece, and Turkey. 71
The major activity of the subcommittee for international affairs in the early 1950s
was to ensure that it imported films from other members of the Eastern Bloc. It imported
ten films from the German Democratic Republic, four from Poland, nine from
Czechoslovakia, five from Hungary and one from Romania. 72 Bulgaria also exported four
films, two of which even made it to Albania. 73 The sucbcommittee was in charge of
organizing, on an annual basis, one week of East German cinema in Sofia and a week of
Hungarian Cinema in Sofia and Budapest. In 1952, Bulgaria also imported several films,
69 CSA, f .383, op. 5, a.e.10, list 70, 1952.
70 CSA, f .383, op. 5, a.e.1.2, list 10, 1952.
71 CSA, f. 383, op.5, a.e. 20, list 3, 1952.
72 CSA, f. 383, op. 5, a.e. 243, list 1–3, 1952.
73 CSA, f. 383, op. 5, a.e. 243, list 1, 1952.
53

including ones from Western countries. 74 From 1952 onward, a Bulgarian delegation was
always invited to the French Film Festival in Cannes. 75
Institutionalization and Early Films
Also in 1952, the government, now represented by the Committee for Sciences
and Arts, agreed that in order to create an indigenous “intelligentsia” it needed to
continue to send young, promising artists to study in the Cinema Schools of higher
education, especially in the Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia, since Bulgaria still lacked
an educational facility in which one could pursue film studies.
Film studies in the country were primarily theory based. Upon graduating with a
BA in film, promising Bulgarian cinematographers went to work for an additional six
months to a year as assistants in the film studios of Czechoslovakia and the Soviet Union.
Abroad, these future Bulgarian filmmakers became acquainted with color films, which
were produced at that time only in the Eastern Bloc of the Soviet Union.
The first major phase of Bulgarian Cinematography ended in 1952. By that time
the film industry had produced four significant films: Kalin the Eagle (Kalin orelât),
Alarm (Trevoga), Dawn over the Homeland (Utro nad rodinata) and Danka (1952). The
four films were exported to other members of the Eastern Bloc. Kalin the Eagle (Kalin
orelât) (1950) is a melodramatic, socio-psychological drama set in Turkey in 1883. It
74 Films were imported from: Spain, 3; Italy, 8; France, 7; East Germany, 3; Hungary, 6; and
Czechoslovakia, 4. CSA, f. 383, op. 5, a.e. 257, list 1, 1952.
75 Ibid.
54

deals with social, political, and class contradictions in Bulgaria after liberation from
Ottoman rule.
Edith, the daughter of the French ambassador, goes on an outing to Black Island,
near Constantinople, where convicts work, blasting away rocks. One of the convicts,
Kalin the Eagle, saves her from falling debris. Edith learns he is a Bulgarian
revolutionary and veteran of the April 1876 Uprising, who remains in captivity five years
after liberation. Edith helps Kalin escape to Bulgaria, where he encounters a new breed of
plunderers in power and is drawn to the socialists. Edith eventually discovers that Kalin
is her father and sets out in search of him. The new rulers arrange for Kalin to be
assassinated. Edith arrives in Bulgaria on the day of Kalin’s funeral, which grows into a
demonstration. Due to its tragic content and its portrayal of recent history, the film
became a success. Bulgarians were and still are very sensitive when confronted with their
five-century occupation by the Ottoman Turks. 76
Alarm (Trevoga) (1950) is a typical pre-1956 propaganda film. The plot takes
place in Sofia in 1941. On his farm, “Earthly Paradise,” Vitan Lazarov greets his son,
Boris, an officer in the tsar’s army, who has just returned from Serbia. An argument
ensues among the father, a peaceful petty bourgeois, his son, and his son-in-law, Sava
Velichkov, a member of the Communist underground. Sava is betrayed and the police
arrest his wife, Lili. Boris arranges for his sister’s release, but is forced to leave the army.
In 1944, German officers visit the Lazarovs’ home. Lili gains valuable information and
76 Kalin the Eagle (Kalin orelât), writ. Nikola Ikonomov and Orlin Vasilyev, dir. Boris
Borozanov, perf. Ivan Dimov, Boris Ganchev, Mariya Yasnikova, and Petrana Lambrinova,
Boyana Film, 1950 ; Galina Gencheva, Bulgarski Igralni Filmi: Anotirana Ilyustrovana
Filmografiya, Tom Dve, 1948–1970 (Bulgarian Feature Films: An Annotated Illustrated
Filmography, vol. 2, 1948–1970) (Sofia: Dr. Peter Beron State Publishing House, 1988), 44–47.
55

passes it to Sava and the partisans. After an air raid destroys the Lazarovs’ home, they
move to a village and Boris serves as an officer in the gendarmerie. Vitan learns that his
son is known as “The Black Captain” and accidentally witnesses an interrogation
involving torture. Disgusted, Vitan slaps his son in public. The partisans attack the village
and free the detained Communists. Boris is shot dead, and the Soviet Red Army
“liberates” the village. 77
Dawn over the Homeland (Utro nad rodinata) (1951), also a propaganda film,
follows university student Ivan Bobchev as he joins a youth building brigade. At camp,
Bobchev oversees a literacy course for his comrades. Velizarov and Monkata, who are
hostile to popular rule, arrive at the camp to carry out sabotage, plot a riot carried out by
local peasants, and place explosives at a dam. A storm ensues and the residents perform
rescue work at the dam and uncover the bombing plot. Monkata is arrested and after a
struggle with Velizarov, Bobchev defuses the bomb. The dam withstands the flood to the
jubilation of the brigade members. 78
The last two works reflect the damaging impact of socialist realism because the
plots are unsophisticated and the performance of the actors is static and unsophisticated.
Despite the poor quality of the films, the chair of the Committee for Cinematography,
Dobroslavski stated, “This phase is characterized by transcending the methodology of
77 Alarm (Trevoga), writ. Angel Wagenstein, dir. Zachari Zhandov, perf. Stefan Savov,
Nadya Stanislavova, Gancho Ganchev, and Dimitar Gachev, Boyana Film, 1950; Gencheva, vol.
2, 48–49.
78 Dawn over the Homeland (Utro nad rodinata), writ. Kamen Kalchev, dir. Anton
Marinovich and Stefan Surchadzhiev, perf. Lubomir Kabakchiyev, Ivan Stefanov, Zheni
Bozhinova, and Apostol Karamitev, Boyana Film, 1951; Gencheva, vol. 2, 50–51.
56

Western filmmaking and adapting instead to the Soviet film culture.” 79 Dobroslavski was
especially confident since Soviet filmmakers, such as the scriptwriter Isaev, the director
Sergei Gerasimov, and the composer Krukov, were constantly present in order to guide
the young filmmakers. The Party strongly encouraged, in addition to socialist realist
expression, a nationalist consciousness in the oeuvres. Here again, the Soviet Union had a
wealth of experience to offer. The Party also hoped that the next step towards progress
was to work with the actors and raise the aesthetic value of films. For this task as well,
the Party counted on the help of the Soviet intelligentsia, such as the director Sergei
Dimitrievich Vassilev and the makeup artist Alexander Maksimovich Babii.
The government also planned to finish the building of the Bulgarian Filmcenter
between 1953 and 1956. Having a national technical base would allow the production of
up to eight films per year. 80 On February 8, 1952, the Parliament issued Ukas, an edict
signed by the leader of the Politburo, Vulko Tchervenkov, which restructured the
Department of Cinematography into a Cinematography Committee, under the close
supervision of the Politburo. This committee had a chair [predsedatel] as well as three
vice chairmen and five additional members, representatives of the Union of Bulgarian
Writers, the Union of Bulgarian Painters and Sculptors, the Union of Bulgarian Artists
and Theater Staffers, the Union of the Bulgarian Composers, musical artists and those
who specialized in music, and representatives of the House of Journalism in Bulgaria. 81
79 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e.14, list 1, 1952.
80 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 15, list 5, 1952.
81 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 80, list 40,1955 .
57

This legislation is of particular importance because it indeed sets cinema as “the most
important art,” by creating a highly elaborate institutional body in which all arts were
represented but in which film reigned supreme, since the institution was headed by film
experts.
The chairman and three of the five vice chairmen composed the operative body.
Those four people were appointed by, and directly responsible to, the Presidium of the
Parliament and Politburo. The four members needed to be approved by the chair of the
Cinematography and Politburo. All other members were hired and fired by the chair of
the Cinematography. 82 The committee was assembled by the Party primarily to
demonstrate that the Bulgarian cinematography had transcended “the first stadium” of its
existence as an “institution in process.”
As the leading Party members emphasized, thanks to the help of their “brothers”
from the Soviet Union a “dilettante mechanism” had evolved into a modern socialist
institution. As already mentioned, by the 1950s, Bulgaria had produced three ambitious
epics, Kalin the Eagle, Alarm, and Dawn over the Homeland. The Bulgarian film, Alarm,
even received the prestigious “Prize for Freedom” at the festival in Karlovy Vary
(Karlsbad), Czechoslovakia. In fact, this “upgrade” in the status of the film industry also
reflected the gradual growth of film theaters in the country. 83
A massive policy of Sovietization was at work as well. In 1947, there were 16.7
million filmgoers, of whom 8.28 million were viewers of Soviet films. By 1950, 37.2%
82 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e.80, list 60, 1955.
83 In 1944 there were 213 theaters; in 1951 the total was 1,045. In 1944, there were no
traveling cinemas in Bulgaria. In 1951, 124 traveling cinemas were in operation. Source: CSA, f.
305, op .5, a.e. 89, list 3, 1955.
58

of all films shown in Bulgaria were Soviet films. The number of people visiting cinemas
had more than doubled to 39.2 million, and of these, 34 million were now viewing Soviet
films. Soviet film attendance increased by over 300%. 84
Films from the People’s Republic of China and East Germany were also screened.
During the early 1950s, foreign films were shown for the first time in Bulgarian without
subtitles. By 1952, along with the effort of dubbing films, the Cinematography needed
to switch exclusively to the production of color films.
The new committee did not just revel in its successes but also assembled in order
to resolve the weaknesses of the industry in the early 1950s. The Party also appointed an
effective council, whose members did not act as an authoritarian body in the view of the
Politburo. The council representatives were involved in film production but were allowed
to criticize themselves and their colleagues regarding the ideological content of
playwrights’ scripts and the selection of actors.
The planned economy also pertained to the film industry: no film production
could be started without a completed script, calendar deadline, and budget. Furthermore,
just as in Fascist Italy, the Communists planned to support the production of more
documentaries, “preglidi” [newsreels] shown before the films, whose sole function was
to indoctrinate the viewers. The poor technical quality of films, a crucial weakness of the
industry, also needed to be addressed. Projection itself was in terrible shape. Viewers put
up with constant disruptions, broken reels, background noise and poor visual quality.
But, for the Communists, the major reasons for the “disfunctionality” of the filmmaking
enterprise had little to do with technology.
84 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e 1, list 89, 1955.
59

The major priority for those in power was to fight against what they considered a
lack of Marxist-Leninist foundation in films, a concern which, coupled with the rapid
growth of the industry and the lack of educational institutions, plagued those in power.
Therefore, it was crucial to demand production of as many films devoted to the “socialist
reality” as possible. As a result, the Cinematography was ordered to double the numbers
of editors among its ranks.
Despite the fact that many were sent to USSR or East Germany, their numbers
could not meet the needs of the industry. Since film art was “the most important art” in
the words of Lenin, and the most popular art in the words of Stalin, such rapid growth
was essential for the mobilization and education of the masses in the spirit of Marxism
and Leninism. 85 The government faced the dilemma of how to control this growth.
Therefore, the first assignment of the new committee was to oversee the development of
new film professionals. Sending students at this point to the USSR, in particular, and
working on a project for the establishment of a school of higher education for cinema
technicians and other experts necessary for the Cinematography, would solve the issue.
The committee also needed to arrange evening courses for improving the professional
level and qualification of all staffers of the Cinematography.
As we saw, the committee was to some extent a self-regulating body. It was
charged with organization and improvement of the technical, aesthetic, and educational
qualities of films and, as such, consisted of several departments, including the studio for
film fabrication, the studio for chronicles [newsreels] and documentaries, the studio for
scientific documentaries and animation, a cinema laboratory for printing materials,
85 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 93, list 1, 1955.
60

kinefication (or propaganda), distribution of films, cinema import, and Bulgarian
photography. 86
The Committee of Cinematography had the following administrative bodies:
human resources, finance, planning, building, office for complaints, secret archive and
secret service, rationalization, administrative services, work and salary office, technical
affairs, financial control, international relations, museum and library. 87
Part of the Cinematography was an open “House of Kino” [Domut na Kinoto],
which functioned as an additional way of spreading the ideas of the Cinematography to
the other members of the Bulgarian cinema. Actually, this house or club evolved into a
popular hangout and meeting place for the quite bohemian-minded Bulgarian
intelligentsia. In its restaurant and bar, filmmakers discussed, over several bottles of
wine, vodka, and whiskey, the films of Fellini and the French nouvelle vague, which had
little in common with Communist-style Marxism and socialist realism. 88 The
Cinematography also started publishing its own journal, called Kino (Cinema). In
addition to self-regulation, the Committee, located on Karl Schwetzki Street No. 9 in
Sofia, regulated the work of all cinema theaters in the country, including the traveling
cinemas. It dealt with such issues as working schedules, ticket pricing, and gathering and
analysis of data, quarterly reports, and budgeting. All theaters reported to the Bulgarian
Cinematography. Local administrators were responsible for making contact between the
center and the locality easier. For the dubbing of films, the Party contracted a small
86 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 99, list 8, 1955.
87 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 554, list 40, 1955.
88 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 100, list 70, 1955.
61

apartment on Gourko Street No.52, whose original inhabitants were removed to another
location. 89
To return to the weaknesses of the films and their production, what is obvious
from the archival sources is that although the government allowed for a reasonable
amount of time to produce a film, the industry administrators could never meet the
deadline. Another challenge was posed by the artists who came from multiple locations
and very often faced availability problems because of miscoordination in fulfilling their
obligations to theaters in which they were full employees. Weaknesses were also evident
in the infrastructure of the industry, such as inadequate shooting space and equipment.
Completed film material was presented for editing sometimes as long as twenty days
after a film shoot was completed, making reshooting unsatisfactory segments very
difficult, since most of the actors were no longer available. 90
Predictably, since one of the foundational premises of Communism was the idea
of a planned economy, the government ascribed failures of the industry mostly to the lack
of planning and organization, rather than to the government’s attempt at control, which
prevented the needed flexibility in film production. In addition, the Party expected that
the Committee, as the major organ of the Cinematography, would exercise more control
over each film production and particularly over its fellow film directors and scriptwriters.
Last but not least, the Party specifically blamed the film directors, who were perceived as
self-centered, rejecting help and advice and hostile towards the film critics. 91
89 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a. e. 103, list 6, 1955.
90 This was the case with some of the earliest works of the Cinematography such as Alarm
(Trevoga) and The Blue Slave Women (Sinite robini). CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 172, list 173, 1955.
62

The Department for Distribution had exclusive rights to distribute the films
domestically and abroad. It had the task to “purge” the film screen of decadent Western
films. Soviet films held preeminent status because the Party considered them as highly
educational, ideologically driven and aesthetically superb works of art. In 1950, for
example, 87.2 % of all screenings were of Soviet films. There were over thirty-nine
million film viewers, of whom thirty-four million were viewers of Soviet films, compared
to 1947, when there were only about seventeen million viewers, of whom some eight
million viewed Soviet films. The data demonstrate a significant increase in film viewers
and in the number of Soviet film viewers in particular. 92
The Department of Kinefication, created in 1948, controlled the different cinema
theaters and the traveling cinemas throughout the country. Cinemas in urban areas could
not meet viewing demand, while cinemas operating in the countryside were sufficient. In
terms of building cinemas and drawing viewers, however, the film industry celebrated
major successes: 93
Table 1 – City and Rural Cinemas
Year Cinemas City Rural
1944 213 140 73
1950 764 197 567
As table 1 illustrates, there is a substantial decrease in the number of rural
cinemas between 1944 and 1950. In 1950s, the rural film theaters overwhelmingly
91 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 10, list 11, 1955.
92 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 174, list 80, 1955.
93 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 175, 1955.
63

outnumber the cinemas in urban areas. The large numbers of rural cinemas highlights the
predominantly rural character of the country and its economic backwardness. The efforts
of the Party to equip the rural parts of a country that was just starting industrialization
were noteworthy. The Propaganda Department was added to the Bulgarian
Cinematography in 1950. The major goal of this department was to attract the population
to films using indoctrination techniques such as the distribution of commercial materials,
booklets and posters that glorified Communism and the arrangement of events in which
public speakers interpreted the content of the films through the lens of Marxism-
Leninism. However, according to a report, the Party emphasized that its work was
largely unsuccessful. The public events were not well attended, and the commercials
were “dry,” “unclear,” and “void of content.” 94
Another important department was the Department for Commerce, created on
April 5, 1948, together with the Law of Bulgarian Cinematography. This body dealt with
the import, distribution, and export of all types of films and film materials. Its budget was
determined by a state commission under the direct control of the Ministry of International
Commerce. An additional department of the Bulgarian Cinematography was the Union of
Bulgarian Film Makers [Sayuz na Bulgarskite Filmovi Deizi]. This union was viewed
favorably by the Party, whose sole hope was that this body would cease to exist
independently and at some point join forces with a homogeneous body called the
Workers’ Union [Rabotnicheski Sayuz]. This did not come to fruition during 1944
through 1989. 95 In fact, just the opposite occurred: the Bulgarian intelligentsia created
94 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 175, list 4, 1948.
95 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 176, list 45, 1989.
64

several other diverse unions during this period, including those for writers, painters,
journalists, actors, composers, and many others. All unions had several buildings in the
capital, on the Black Sea coast, and in the mountains, which provided free food and
vacations for their members.
In conclusion, the evidence suggests that the Party had very high expectations,
especially for the members of Bulgarian Cinematography. Despite the fact that many
successes were recognized, Party members continued to emphasize that the leadership of
the Cinematography was not quite capable of enforcing and implementing the policies
and visions of the Regime. The cineastes were not interested in developing “Leninist”
relationships towards the critics, and “they did not show Bolshevik determinism to
eradicate their weaknesses. Very often [a] self- critical spirit was present but in practice
little was achieved.” 96 Despite its ambiguous relationship with the Communist
administration, the Cinematography matured quite quickly as a massive and complex
institutional body, which was able to operate as an industry in a post war society
consumed by a new “Cold War,” though still experiencing enormous pressures due to a
painful transition to a new economic and political order.
Controlling and Producing Creativity
Hopes ran high for improving script writers’ qualifications. On September 4,
1952, the Director of the Cinematography, with the approval of the Politburo, sent two
Bulgarian editors, Yako Avramov Milkov and Gergui Stojanov Geschev Bigor, to
Moscow with the goal of expanding their qualifications by studying at the Academy of
96 Main Director Dobroslavski – CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 176, list 49, 1952.
65

Script Writing in Moscow. The writers had a budget of 5,000 rubles for six months. 97
But, the trip was not well planned. In August 1952, a letter from Moscow reached the
executive office of Comrade Dobroslavski.
Comrade Dobroslavski,
We say hello from Moscow!
Immediately after our arrival we were welcomed and joined forces with
our Soviet colleagues. Yako and I work at the script writer’s studio. We
participate in the creative ventures of the studio and help making ready the
scripts. Our qualification was already planned. We will watch films and listen to
lectures that discuss major questions related to the connections between script
writings and the Marxist esthetic. However, the money is not enough to cover all
necessary costs. For example, we do not have money to pay the professors who
will lecture us. Therefore, we need an additional 5000 rubles. Please, send us the
money as soon as possible through the embassy. The Bulgarian embassy sent a
telegram, as well.
The letter continues.
We already traveled to Moscow third class with the train, because in the
business trip documents, the class of the train was not specified. We have
expenses that are not mentioned in the documents. Please, make sure to be more
specific next time. The only thing that saves us is the notorious Soviet
hospitality…Well, we study hard and this is what counts. The Soviet comrades
booked some of the most prestigious professors in the field. The lectures will also
be recorded and brought back to Bulgaria. We will visit the Leningrad Studio, as
well. The Moscow film studio is quite different than ours. The studio is an
independent administrative unit. It has a director, major editor and seven
additional editors. The director has writers and film directors who review scripts
twice per month. The scripts are approved only by the director and the Minister of
Culture. Later, I will write a detailed letter about everything, but now I have to
rush to send this letter via the courier of the Ministry of International Affairs.
Otherwise, we are feeling well. We live in a hostel and eat in the canteen of the
Ministry of Culture. We spend our business money mostly on theater spectacles,
which are included in the plan of widening our cultural spectrum.
I wish you good health and success!
Greetings,
Bigor
97 CSA, f. 305, op. 5, a.e. 430, 1955.
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P.S. Our address is Hostel Savoy 526, Moscow. 98
This letter illustrates in a colorful way how the cineastes spent their time abroad
and the problems that they encountered. Financial difficulties and mismanagement,
which very often were a result of planning policies, abounded. For example, the
Department of Film Distributions had accumulated a large debt, being unable to pay the
distributors abroad while purchasing a significant number of foreign films and production
materials, mostly from the Soviet Union. 99 The Bulgarian Politburo concluded that the
ineffectuality of film distribution was to a large degree a result of the malfunctioning of
the local public cinemas, which failed to draw enough revenue from the film screenings.
Despite repeated warnings to settle its debt to the national bank, the Cinematography was
unable to pay. On New Year’s Eve 1952, the Politburo and the Ministerial Council issued
a severe reprimand, repudiating the leaders of the Cinematography. The debt repayment
deadline, signed by the head of state, Vulko Tchervenkov, was extended to March
1953. 100 This incident demonstrates that it was very difficult at this point to create a good
connection between the center and the different localities.
In 1953, the Department of Propaganda, headed by Director Genchev, renewed an
aggressive campaign for indoctrination in the countryside, particularly at the border
regions with Turkey. One of the most popular newspapers, The Wasp (Starshel), was
translated into Turkish. 101 In twenty-five cinemas the newsreels, carefully selected by
98 Ibid (author’s translation).
99 CSA, f .383, op. 5, a.e. 338, list 351, 1953.
100 CSA, f. 383, op .5, a.e. 369, list 37, 1953.
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censors, were screened in Turkish. These chronicles’ plots dealt with rebellions against
Turkish rule and the formation of Bulgarian national consciousness. Lectures with
historical content were translated into Turkish and presented before the screenings. Films,
such as Under the Yoke (Pod igoto) (1952), Kalin the Eagle, Dawn over the Homeland
and Alarm were dubbed in Turkish. Foreign films that were not translated were shown in
Bulgarian or with Bulgarian subtitles, while a staffer explained the subject to the
audience in Turkish before and during the screening. 102 Here the problems were massive.
The Turkish minority regions on the border were entirely rural. Most of the villages did
not have electricity or sewer systems, not to mention facilities suitable as cinemas.
Individuals who could be employed as personnel were unable to speak Turkish. 103
In 1955, films were screened at least monthly in twenty-three villages with ethnic
Turks. In many regions populated by Muslims, film screenings only for Turkish women
were arranged. Among the most viewed films in the border regions was the movie
Daughter-in-Law (Snaha) (1954). This film depicting the Bulgarian countryside
following World War I aimed to criticize the wealthy and to empower women. Here is a
brief description of the plot: The rich peasant of mixed ethnicity, Yurtalana, has two sons
and a daughter. His younger son, Aleksi, is a frivolous student wasting his father’s
money. His older son, Stoiko, marries Sveda, a poor girl. On their wedding day, Stoiko
tells her the family secret–one day Yurtalana saw a small boy stealing from his field. He
chased the boy, threw a stone at him and killed him by accident. Stoiko and his father
101
CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 31, 1955. This newspaper had a humorous, satirical, and
critical tone.
102 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 10, 1955.
103 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 17, 1955.
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uried the boy. From that day on, the shadow of death has haunted the family. Sevda and
Stoiko remain childless. After a long illness Stoiko dies and Sevda is thrown out of her
in-laws’ house. With the help of her brother Dimo, who happens to be a Communist,
Sevda finds the courage to go to the police and expose her father-in-law’s crime. This
film gives a glimpse into the magic of the Balkan village and in many ways transcends
the narrow scheme of a mere critique of the wealthy. The final message is humanistic and
universal, seeking to restore the balance in nature, upset by Yurtalana’s crime, and the
equality among all human beings. 104
The Thaw
After Stalin’s death in 1953, the climate in Eastern Europe improved to some
extent. Cold War historians refer to this period as “The Thaw” or “the Renaissance.” By
1954, Charlie Chaplin films were made available for screening for the first time. 105 In
1955, Bulgaria began sending delegations, films, posters, brochures, pamphlets, and
publications on an annual basis to the prestigious international film festival in Cannes. As
well as paying for the business trips, the government spent 610,000 francs yearly for
commercials in France. 106
The intelligentsia became reinvigorated during this period. Topics for public
discussion included the Polish poster in 1945, the work of the Italian painter Renato
104 Daughter-in-Law (Snaha), writ. Aleksander Hadzhikhristov, dir. Anton Marinovich, perf.
Petar Dimitrov, Margarita Duparinova, Vyara Kovacheva, and Petar Stoychev, Boyana Film,
1954; Gencheva, vol. 2, 64.
105 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 41, 1955.
106 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 24, 1955.
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Gutuso and Mexican Art in 1955. Open discourse on such subjects would have been
unthinkable in the past. 107 Literary critics such as Sdravko Petrov, Minko Nikolov,
Vladimir Svintilov and Boris Delchev started debating publicly an issue of aesthetic
quality, a discussion equally impossible during the reign of Stalin. 108 Here again,
Tchervenkov’s clique realized that new freedoms could spin out of control and, therefore,
he organized forums in which the intelligentsia was criticized by the Party. 109 In addition,
specific young and already very established writers who also worked for the film
industry, such as Pavel Vejinov and Ivan Radoev, were criticized, individually. 110 The
writers were accused of placing the individual, rather than collective, at the center of their
works. The censors were upset that the writers wrote too much about freedom and less
about the goals of the Marxist-Leninist ideal. Since the Bulgarian intelligentsia was too
traumatized by and depressed from governmental scare tactics, the most important role in
the final end of the Stalinist era was again played out in the Soviet Union by openly
attacking Stalin at the 20 th Congress of the Soviet Communist Party in 1956.
The following April, the Plenum of the Bulgarian Communist Party publicly
exposed Tchervenkov, claiming that, henceforth, not he but the Central Committee would
be in charge of the development of the cultural life in the country. The intelligentsia was
relieved, but not for long. Soon after that congress, the Party published an article in
which the leadership emphasized that those critics and writers who followed the petit
107 Kalinova and Baeva, 164.
108 Ibid.
109 Ibid.
110 CSA, f. 1, op. 5, a. e. 181, list 19–26, 1954.
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ourgeois frivolity of writing would be sanctioned. 111 The Eastern Bloc of 1956 was no
longer the same, but after “The Hungarian Autumn” especially, the slightly-opened door
of democracy was locked up again.
During this Renaissance, the general public started expressing more vocally their
discontent with some activities of the Union of Bulgarian Film Makers. Letters were
written by citizens to major newspapers such as The Wasp. A letter from Sliven the
diversely populated town in the Turkish border region, reached the editor of The Wasp on
November 6, 1954. The senders called themselves “The Ugly and Old Comrades.” Here
are some excerpts from the letter.
Dear Wasp:
We want to share our pain with you, brother! We are members of the
collective of amateur arts at the club “The Officer” in Sliven. We regularly
perform at the club and enjoy a lot of popularity. We worked hard in order to be
so well known, despite the fact that there was a lot of gossip and slander of how
we could leave our homes, children and husbands and play instead. Our
audiences loved us and nobody ever mentioned anything about our age or beauty.
Because we were so successful, Workers Deed 112 decided to film us and make a
chronicle. However, after the film team arrived, they were shocked by our
appearance…They needed young and pretty girls for their film and couldn’t find
any in our troupe!!! Since they did not want their movie to “fail,” they assembled
a number of young and pretty high school girls from town and filmed them instead
pretending that they were us!!...
This letter was never published, but it remained preserved at the Central State
111 Kalinova and Baeva, 166.
112 Another popular newspaper.
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Archive along with numerous complaints directed at the Cinematography. 113 Its
humorous and honest tone suggests that by the mid 1950s, the population was not so
paralyzed by fear and was more eager to express their disappointment with the status quo.
That same year, another letter crossed the editor’s desk of The Wasp.
Dear Big Brother Wasp:
You are normally good in stinging but this time you are letting us down, or
you are also one of the “chosen” who, (together with your girlfriend) have free
entrance to “The House of Kino.” Listen Wasp, all Sofia knows already that
“The House of Kino” on Rakovsky Street screens films from the West every
Tuesday and Friday, and even the militiaman who stays there does not interfere
with the masses of people headed by the hooligans who try to get in. The hall is
overcrowded with strangers on those days. On the other hand, on days in which
films from our brothers from the Soviet Union, GDR and other members of the
Eastern Bloc are shown, the hall is half empty…Is this true? Write!
Sincerely,
Toma Ivanov Ginovski. 114
This provocative letter was written by a member of the Union of Bulgarian Film
Makers and, this time, did not remain unanswered. Ivan Fichev, Director of the Union of
Cineastes responded.
Yes, it is true that we screen films in “The House of Kino,” every Tuesday
and Friday, but those are films that are officially approved. The fact that they are
popular does not surprise us and we know that if they come especially from
France and Italy, those desiring to see them by and large outnumber the available
seats in the hall. The problem is primarily structural due to the fact that the
members of the Cinematography are much more numerous than the seats in the
hall. Sometimes, the members are guilty, because they lend their membership
cards to relatives or even strangers.
Our security staff does their best to combat the chaos and disorder created
mostly by hooligans. Because we have multiple screenings during the day, our
members often wait on the street, which creates the impression of disarray.
Streetwalkers often take advantage of the situation trying to mingle with the
113 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 18–19, 1954 (author’s translation).
114 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 50, 1954. (author’s translation).
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cineastes and get inside. Sometimes, we have to deal with up to 1400 people
waiting to watch a film! In order to address the issue, we decided to double the
militia and re-enforce strict pass control. From now on, we can guarantee
civilized and orderly screenings.
P.S. It is unpleasant and insulting, but, yes, we admit that the screenings
of Soviet and Eastern films in general are not very well attended.
Best Regards,
Ivan Fichev. 115
The letter and the response were published in the pages of The Wasp and illustrate
a relaxed cultural atmosphere in the country and lax censorship measures of the
Communist regime. At the same time, the incident highlights the enormous interest in
Western culture.
By 1956, Bulgaria had three big film studios, one for films, one for
documentaries, and another for science films and cartoons. In this period, the filmmaking
enterprise significantly advanced in professionalism. The technical quality and sound
tracks improved along with plot composition and the aesthetic value of the pictures.
Among the best films were Land (Zemya), Adam’s Rib (Rebro adamovo) and History
Lesson (Urokât na istoriyata), all from 1956, and the film adaptation of a play written by
the Turkish poet Nasam Hikmet, Legend of Love (Legenda za lyubovta) (1957).
Land (Zemya), an adaptation of a story written by one of the most famous
Bulgarian writers, Elin Pelin, is a picturesque and magically realistic drama with socio-
psychological undertones. It portrays life in a typical Bulgarian village before World War
I and deals with the philosophical and moral problems of belonging, loyalty, and
happiness. It tells the story of two brothers. One of the brothers breaks the engagement
115 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 49, 1954. (author’s translation).
73

with his sweetheart and marries the crippled daughter of the richest man in the village. He
acquires a large estate but in the middle of it is the little plot belonging to his brother. The
brother (Ivan) refuses to sell his plot to Enyo (the rich sibling) because there is a cherry
oak on his land, which is a symbol of their ancestors. In the heat of argument, Enyo,
while cutting the cherry tree, hits his brother with a stone. Ivan survives but Enyo is
hunted by the memory of the tragic confrontation with his closest relative. 116
Adam’s Rib (Rebro adamovo), a film scripted by Anton Marinovich and directed
by Angel Wagenstein, depicts the life of a young Muslim woman in the first years of the
Communist coup, who wants to be independent. However, her father arranges a marriage
for her. Shortly after the wedding, she runs away and starts working at the office of a
female doctor. Her husband takes her back, beats her, and abuses her. She gives birth
prematurely, and then takes the baby to a school for Muslims in the town of Plovdiv. At
the end, she falls in love with her teacher and marries him. 117
Despite the fact that the plot intends to influence Muslim women to seek greater
independence, suggesting that a second marriage is the only resolution, which makes the
picture a poor example of feminism, Marinovich has, nevertheless, achieved a universal
story that could happen to any woman at any point. Zyulka, the protagonist, does not
attain independence at all. Rather, she merely replaces a bad marriage with a good one.
The latent pessimism of the filmmaker imprints the film with a statement of realism.
116 Land (Zemya), writ. Veselin Hanchev, dir. Zachari Zhandov, perf. Bogomil Simeonov,
Slavka Slavova, Ginka Stancheva, and Elena Hranova, Boyana Film, 1956; Gencheva, vol. 2, 88–
89.
117 Adam’s Rib (Rebro adamovo), writ. Anton Marinovich, dir. Angel Wagenstein, perf.
Emilia Radeva, Georgi Popov, Lubomir Kabakchiyev, and Nikola Popov, Boyana Film, 1956.
Gencheva, vol. 2, 78–79.
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History Lesson (Urokât na istoriyata) is a documentary narrating the story of
Communist leader Georgui Dimitrov who, accused by the Nazis of setting the Reichstag
fire in 1933, was released due to lack of evidence and granted Soviet citizenship, until he
returned to Bulgaria in 1944 to become the first Communist leader.
Legend of Love (Legenda za lyubovta) is a Middle Eastern fairytale. This film
received particularly bad reviews because of its disengagement from reality. It was called
by film critic Naumov “an untold story of love.” 118 The four films are very different in
their subjects and representations, but taken together, they highlight the emergence of an
industry able to tackle many themes and genres.
During the late 1950s, excluding the mobile cinemas, 1,058 theaters were
operating in the country. The government continued the campaign for “Bulgarization” at
the border regions, particularly those inhabited by ethnic Turks. Special screenings for
Turkish women, preceded by speeches given by female Communist Party activists
continued to be organized, and Xalima Eljagora, an ethnic Turkish member of
Parliament, often volunteerd to speak in the minority-populated regions. 119
For the cinema, as an art, the turning point occurred not immediately after Stalin’s
death but after the April plenary session, when the 20 th Congress of the USSR
Communist Party abolished the cult. The Congress denounced the Stalinist way of
politicking, paving the way for Bulgaria’s rebirth, beginning with the fall of Bulgaria’s
version of Stalin, Vulko Tchervenkov, who was replaced by Todor Zhivkov. Zhivkov
remained in power until the fall of Communism in 1989.
118 Gencheva, vol. 2, 96–97.
119 CSA, f. 383, op. 9, a.e. 10, list 561–562, 1959.
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There is no doubt that the personality cult had harmed the arts. In films before
1956, the typical hero always represented a definite socio-economic group. It appeared,
in the words of Maria Racheva, that “all protagonists seemed to resemble each other and
even speak the same lines…” 120
Beyond the Thaw
During the early 1950s, the French philosopher Jean Paul Sartre proclaimed that
human life begins on the far side of despair. 121 His colleague, Albert Camus, said that he
was optimistic about man (women?) but pessimistic about human destiny. 122
Commenting on a group of his tiny figurines done in 1945, the sculptor Alberto
Giacometti exclaimed, “to my terror the sculptures started to appear smaller and smaller .
. . Head and figures seemed to me to have a bit of truth only when small.” 123 Seated
Woman with Arms Extended (1953–1957) by the sculptor Kenneth Armitage depicted an
obviously helpless de-eroticized figure, half human, half animal, or a bug, but with
inflexible limbs, unable to control her environment. This work calls to mind Kafka’s
helpless bug in Metamorphosis. The two sculptures represent the angst, or what the
120
Maria Racheva, “Predstavjane na Bulgarskoto Kino” (Presenting Bulgarian Cinema),
Kino (Cinema) (1970): 17–18.
121
Franklin L. Baumer, Modern European Thought: Continuity and Change in Ideas, 1600–
1950 (New York: Macmillan, 1977), 437.
122 Ibid.
123 Ibid., 432.
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French existentialist Gabriel Marcel would term “the loss of a sense of being,” 124 as one
of the major artistic moods during the post-World War II period.
The Bulgarian film, Life Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho) (1957) reflected
this non-being mood. Directed by Binka Zhelyazkova and scripted by Christo Ganev, her
husband, the film started a new trend in Bulgarian filmmaking by criticizing the recent
Communist past.
The film’s plot is pointed: In a battle with the gendarmerie, a partisan
commander, Zhelyo, orders the retreat of his unit, whose members consist of his wife, his
son Pavel, Vankata, Sheli, and Velko. Velko remains behind with a pistol given to him by
Sheli. At the cost of his life, Velko helps his comrades escape to safety. Ten years later,
Sheli recounts this story to her students. Pavel returns from university in Moscow to find
his parents divorced. He moves in with Petko. Now employed in a cushy management job
and a member of parliament, Zhelyo wants to erect a monument to Velko on the site of
his heroic death, rather than develop the area as an iron ore mine and provide work for
the locals. Petko objects. Zhelyo demands his expulsion from the Communist Party.
The former commander becomes estranged from his comrades, befriends the
sculptor Markov, and lapses into alcohol abuse. Pavel gets an appointment to the district
Party commission and takes up the case of Petko, who is now living in poverty. Pavel and
Sheli go to the sculptor’s studio only to discover the same pistol used by Velko and
realize that Markov is a former member of the gendarmerie. Zheylo attempts suicide and
is hospitalized with Petko, whose health has deteriorated. The two manage to reconcile.
The partisan unit veterans return to the site where Velko fell. Rather than the monument,
124 Ibid., 436.
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the iron ore mine is set up to provide a better life for the people. 125 In censoring and
suppressing this film, the Central Committee of the Bulgarian Communist Party states,
“in this film, our reality is shown twisted and one-sided. The film aims to denigrate the
image of the Partisans and it slanders their selflessness and sacrifice in the name of the
people. The conclusions in the film are wrong.” 126
Because of its critical stand towards the partisan movement, this film was not
shown until 1988. Not only the first film dealing with partisans, it was made by two
former partisans, Zhelyazkova and Ganev. 127 It also showed their limited numbers and
their vulnerability. One of the heroes exclaimed, “we fought because we thought about
the Party. Now we fight because we think of ourselves.” 128 Asked in 1989 if she would
like to make a film about the “Perestroika,” Zhelyazkova replied, “I made it [Life Flows
Slowly By] thirty-two years ago.” 129 Scriptwriter Angel Wagenstein claims that this was
the very first self-critical film in the entire Eastern Bloc that prophesized the coming of
the year 1968. 130 Zhelyazkova was also the first Bulgarian woman to direct a film.
125 Life Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho), writ. Christo Ganev, dir. Binka
Zhelyazkova, perf. Bogomil Simeonov, Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Emilia Radeva, and Ivan
Bratanov, Boyana Film, 1957; Gencheva, vol. 2, 103–105.
126 Alexander Janakiev, ed., Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian
Cinema) (Sofia: Titra, 2000), s.v. “Zhivotat si teche tiho.”
127 Bulgarsko Kino (Bulgarian Cinema), n.d., 379.
128 Life Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho); Gencheva, vol. 2, 103–105.
129 Elka Nikolova, dir., Binka: To Tell a Story About Silence, Vreme Film Studio, 2006.
130 Ibid.
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Another significant work from 1958 was the movie On a Small Island (Na
malkiya ostrov) by filmmaker Rangel Vulchanov and scriptwriter Valeri Petrov. 131 The
film is devoted to forty-three Bulgarian Communists who were banished to the Bulgarian
Black Sea island, St. Anastasia, in 1925, two years after a large Communist uprising in
the country. While the prisoners await their sentences in detention, a carpenter, an
idealistic student, and a doctor, plan an escape. The carpenter and the student tragically
die. After their deaths, the doctor continues alone to organize a mass escape. After long
struggle, his plan comes to fruition. During a performance of a play, the prisoners take
131 Rangel Vulchanov (born 1928 in Krivina). Bulgaria’s leading director, Vulchanov studied
direction at home in Sofia, acted during his student days in Zahari Zhandov’s Alarm (Trevoga)
(1951), and propelled his country’s cinematography into the world spotlight with his first feature
film, On a Small Island (Na malkiya ostrov), (1958). The poetic, philosophical tone of this film
heralded a promising “new wave” in Bulgarian cinema, but its international success was the result
of a close collaboration of Vulchanov with screenplay writer Valeri Petrov, cameraman Dimo
Kolarov, composer Simeon Pironkov, and several of the country’s finest actors.
The shooting team then collaborated on First Lesson (Parvi urok) (1960) and Sun and
Shadow (Slântseto i syankata), (1962), although Vulchanov preferred on those occasions to work
with nonprofessional actors (an option he has employed with astonishing success to this day. He
has experimented with various genres, each time with impressive results and few artistic setbacks:
The Inspector and the Night (Inspektorât i Noshitta) (1963) (contemporary ethics), The She-Wolf
(Vâlchitsata) (1965) (moral problem with psychological overtones), Escape to Rapotamo
(Byagstvo v Ropotamo) (1973) (musical), The Inspector and the Forest (Sledovatelyat i gorata)
(1975) (documentary realism), With Love and Tenderness (S lyubov i nezhnost) (1978) (questions
of aesthetics), and The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (Lachenite obuvki na
neznaniniya voin) (1979) (avant-garde recollections of childhood).
Vulchanov’s personal courage as an independent-minded director has also played a role in
the development of Bulgarian cinema. When a Bulgarian-Czechoslovakian coproduction, Aesop
(1970), was delayed in its home release, the director stayed on in Czechoslovakia to make Face
behind the Mask (Tvár pod maskou) (1970) and Chance (Sance) (1970). Among his
documentaries are the lyrical Journey between Two Shores (Pateshestvie mezhdu dva bryaga)
(1967), filmed in North Africa, the folkloric Bulgarian Rhythms (Bulgarski ritmi) (1972), and two
portraits of composer Lyubomir Pipkov. He also made the experimental melodrama In Quest of
Remembrance (Tarsi se spomen) (1963).
For The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes, Vulchanov received the Golden Peacock
at the 1961 New Delhi Film Festival; the prize was well deserved and signaled world recognition
for a national cinematography. His feature film, Last Wishes (Posledni zhelaniya) (1983), a
political satire on European royalty during the First World War, has received critical acclaim at
international festivals. Holloway, 63. Vulchanov had received a degree in stage directing in 1953,
but he started working in the film industry in 1952 as an assistant director, and as a director in
1953. For more information see Gencheva, vol. 2, 111–112.
79

the guards by surprise and disarm them, including their cruel leader Captain Stanev. With
the help of the lighthouse keeper’s little daughter, the doctor succeeds in turning on the
lighthouse’s beam. The prisoners get in a boat to sail to the shore. On the way, the doctor
slips and breaks his leg. He decides that he does not want to compromise the escape of
his comrades, bids farewell to them and to his little helper, the girl, and blows himself
up. 132
This film is not only very sophisticated as cinematic work but also is a
philosophical story resembling a Sartre play or The Allegory of the Cave by Plato. The
filmmaker’s vision of the role of the intellectual as somebody who must sacrifice himself
in order to help other innocents, (metaphorically, society under dictatorship), and see the
light (or metaphorically, the truth), which sets them [the prisoners] free, is refreshing and
enlightened. At the same time, the desolate, lonely island is reminiscent of Rossellini’s
Stromboli (1950). This film established a precedent in the Bulgarian cinema in which
filmmakers will use allegorical approaches in order to express their dissatisfaction with
reality. As the critic Jechev commented: “Now, we can see what the human makes in
history, and on second plan, what history makes with the human.” 133 In other words,
films which were made beginning in the 1950s, used history as a text within which they
placed their subversive and humanistic messages as subtext. The most subversive and
popular works of the period were films that were apolitical, that did not deal with
contemporary matters but, rather, focused on the past in the form of historical metafiction
132 On a Small Island (Na malkiya ostrov), writ. Valeri Petrov, dir. Rangel Vulchanov, perf.
Ivan Kondov, Stefan Pejchev, Konstantin Kotsev, and Ivan Andonov, Boyana Film, 1958;
Gencheva, vol. 2, 111–112.
133 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 206, list 1, 1958.
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Those were the works that were never suppressed or attacked because Party censors were
not able to decode the subtextual message of the film. 134
The sophistication of filmmaking was not random. The late 1950s was also a
time in which the first generation of young film directors returned from the major
European metropolises where they had received their education. These individuals, such
as Zhandov, Sharaliev, and Dakovski and the writers and screenwriters Ganev,
Wagenstein, and Vejinov, among others, emerged as the early celebrities of the industry.
Many of them traveled periodically as members of Bulgarian delegations to film festivals
in Cannes, Karlovy Vary and Damascus, among other places. Actor Apostol Karamitev
was honored with a best actor award at the international festival in Karlovy Vary for his
performance in the romantic comedy, It Happened in the Street (Tova se sluchi na
ulitzata) in 1956. The government was very careful about making a good impression
abroad, sending delegations usually consisting of twelve prominent members from the
Union of Cineastes, laden with presents, including Bulgarian crafts, slivovitz [plum
brandy] and cigarettes. 135
Many of those men and women who traveled and studied abroad were powerfully
influenced by the ideas of Italian Neorealism, the nouvelle vague in France, or the events
in Hungary that took place in 1956. Foreign education remained a double-edged sword;
on the one hand, the filmmakers always felt obligated to the Party for the enormous
international educational opportunities in cities such as Paris, Moscow, Prague, and later
London. On the other hand, their schooling transformed them, attracting them to the
134 See later references to The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve), Birds and Greyhounds
(Ptitsi i hrâtki), and Constantine the Philosopher (Konstantin Philosoph).
135 CSA, f. 383, op. 6, a.e. 4, list 19, 1959.
81

culture of the West and making them painfully aware of their own provincial limitations.
Then again, Western culture at this period was predominantly leftist and the new
cinematographers were struggling to reconcile Western-style left wing idealism—
“Eurosocialism,” Marxism —with Marxist-Leninism and Stalinism to which they were
supposed to remain loyal. The same struggle to reconcile ideals with reality and make
sense of the monstrous deformation of the Bolshevik Revolution into Stalinism can be
found in the works of prominent Western left wing intellectuals, such as Jean-Paul Sartre,
suggesting that the loosening of ideological control during the 1950s was illusory to some
extent.
In 1957, a long article, “About the Question of Neorealism” (Po Vaprosite na
Neorealisma), written by critic Borjan Enchev, asserted that “its destructive influence
over our cinema manifests in the search of small themes and increases the aim to escape
reality, which leads to failure on the side of the artist to address the workers’ question.” 136
However, this critical stylistic definition had nothing in common with neorealism. In fact,
many neorealist filmmakers, such as Visconti, among others, were professed Marxists.
They were deeply concerned with very real problems and constantly addressed social
evils, including the workers’ struggles, in their works. In opposition to their predecessors,
who glorified “art for art’s own sake,” 137 the Neorealists demonstrated that good art could
carry a message without being deprived of its aesthetic qualities.
However, Italian neorealist tradition was complex and multidimensional. For
example, the Italian cinematographers had difficulties dealing with the immediate
136
Borjan Enchev, “Po Vaprosite na Neorealisma” (About the Question of Neorealism),
Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) 2 (1957).
137 A good example is offered by the works of the Decadent Movement.
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aftermath of World War II. The neorealistic Italian masterpieces of, the 1940s and 1950s,
such as Bitter Rice (Riso amaro) (1949) by De Santis and The Earth Trembles (La terra
trema) (1948) by Visconti continued to express concern with social issues, yet they all
added an additional dimension to it. By embracing the pessimistic mood of the post-war
era and by employing Christian and pagan elements, the filmmakers replaced Marxist
determinism with a mixture of religious mysticism, which, in the end, became
deterministically loaded, as well. Socialist Realism, on the other hand, was a one-
dimensional, rigid, and static style overburdened with ideology, which, in fact, entirely
contradicted its name. Notably, it was popular mostly during the time of stagnation,
which ended with Stalin’s death, and it was never entirely embraced by the cineastes,
who often tried to mock the image of the positive, socially-minded hero by using pathos,
exaggeration, and parody. The protagonists were often represented as cartoon characters
or static giants reminiscent of Disney movies.
In 1957, the critic Stoyan Stoimenov published an article entitled “The Films
Provoke Alarm” (Filmite Budjat Trevoga). About the film, Years of Love (Godini za
lyubov) (1957), by Janko Jankov, Stoimenov wrote, “this film does not have a particular
time and location; the deeds of its protagonists are not mirroring our socialist reality.” 138
The author concluded, “the array of weak films demonstrates clearly that it is time to cry
‘Alarm.’ This alarm must scare the cinematographers.” 139 Stoimenov’s appeal resonated
at the highest echelons of the state. After a couple of months, the head of the Party,
Zhivkov, announced at a meeting with Bulgarian writers:
138 Stoyan Stoimenov, “Filmite Budjat Trevoga” (The Films that Provoke Alarm),
Literaturen Front (Literary Front) 4 (1958).
139 Ibid.
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From several years, the Cinematography presents us with series of
apathetical, apolitical, and antiaesthetical films which portray in a disfigured way
the life in our country. Some of those films were sharply criticized and judged by
the Bulgarian people. What is to blame is the absence of a healthy ideologically
and politically minded leadership in the realm of culture. As a result, some
workers of the Cinematography have developed an escapist attitude towards life.
Due to their weak Marxist-Leninist training, they were easily seduced by the
modernist influences from outside, abandoning the method of socialist realism
and the realist traditions in our arts. It is not surprising that the films that they
created were weak. It is obvious that now, we cannot afford anymore not to
interfere in the workings of the Cinematography. 140
In fact, the interference was always there but it rarely reached such radical
dimensions. In determining the future course of their work, the cinematographers waited
in fear to receive orders from the Central Committee. The new order issued on July 5,
1958, demonstrated that from this point on, not the Ministry of Culture but the highest
body of the Party, the Central Committee, would be responsible for all final decisions
concerning the Cinematography. Janakiev makes the good point that those orders issued
under Communism represented the real power of the Party and its imperial character.
They were, in fact, much more efficient than any legislation passed during the period,
and, while the orders did not possess any legal power, neither did their incorrect
implementation have any mitigating legal consequences. Those orders had the power to
aggrandize or destroy certain personalities or artistic work. 141
Despite the continuation of repressive tactics against the intelligentsia as a whole
and the claims of film critics from the establishment that “the revisionism and the petit
bourgeois storm needed to be stopped,” 142 the clock could not be turned back; Eastern
140 Todor Zhivkov, “Poveche Mejdu Naroda, Po-Blisko do Zhivota” (More between the
People, Closer to Life), Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) 5 (1958) (author’s translation).
141 Janakiev, 223.
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Europe transformed significantly. Within a cultural context, the humanist tradition
reasserted itself. Writers and scriptwriters, such as Constantin Pavlov, Stephan Zanev,
Liubomir Levchev, Valeri Petrov, Pavel Vejinov, Christo Ganev, Angel Wagenstein and
filmmakers such as Methodi Andonov, Vŭlo Radev, Rangel Vulchanov and Binka
Zhelyazkova completely departed stylistically from the techniques used before 1953–
1956. A new style emerged in which the protagonist and his or her story dominated the
screen.
The year 1958 marks the production of the political drama, Stars (Zvezdi), written
by Angel Wagenstein, nicknamed Jacky, 143 and directed by the well-known East German
142 Kalinova and Baeva, 166.
143 Angel Wagenstein (born 1922 in Plovdiv). The author of more than twenty-five
screenplays (feature films, television plays, documentaries, cartoons), Angel Wagenstein wasted
no time making his presence known in Sofia after graduating from the Moscow Film School
(VGIK) in 1950, the year the first feature film was made after the nationalization of the Bulgarian
film industry. His collaboration with dramatist Orlin Vassilev on the latter’s play Alarm
(Trevoga) (1951) marked the true beginning of modern Bulgarian cinema. The director of Alarm
was Zachari Zhandov, who then collaborated with Wagenstein on the young scriptwriter’s
diploma work, Septembrists (Septemvriytzi) (1954), one of those revolutionary themes common
to Bulgarian and East European cinema at that time. Both Alarm and Septembrists, however, were
steps forward in the right direction, for the industry was young and audiences detected the pulse
of life and history in these didactic treatises on the past.
While studying in Moscow, “Jacky” Wagenstein made the acquaintance of Konrad Wolf.
The East German director collaborated with his VGIK friend on a coproduction by Bulgaria and
the GDR, Stars (Zvezdi) (1958); it was an instant international success. In view of the recent past,
and a monstrous war that Bulgaria supported for a time as Germany’s ally, this reckoning with
the conscience of a nation came at an opportune time, but there was much more in the film – the
love story dealt realistically with the fate of a Jewish girl about to be transported to Auschwitz
and a young German officer’s disillusionment with his role in an unjust cause. No positive
solution was offered for this dilemma; the emphasis instead was placed on mankind’s common
tragedy.
Stars was Wagenstein’s first major screenplay. The vulnerable, warmly human
characters presented here are to be found in all of his films; a recent example was Ivan Nichev’s
Stars in Her Hair, Tears in Her Eyes (Zvezdi v kosite, salzi v ochite) (1977), the story of a
wandering actors’ troupe at the turn of the last century. The writer’s sense of the historical
moment also singled him out from others dealing with revolutionary and antifascist themes. His
Amendment to the Defense-of-State Act (Dopalnenie kam zakona za zashtita na darzhavata )
(1976), directed by Lyudmil Staikov, left room for the flesh-and-blood portraits of well-known
political personalities in the troublesome 1920s. And his script for Rangel Vulchanov’s
85

film director, Konrad Wolf. The plot takes place in Bulgaria in 1943. A train carrying
Greek Jews bound for Auschwitz stops at a small southwestern town. The local school is
converted to a camp. Passing by, a Nazi army sergeant, Walter, meets a young Jew, Ruth,
and they fall in love. Walter has a chance to talk to Ruth at a party and convinces her that
he detests Nazism and war. Walter tries to provide medicine to the camp inmates, but the
Germans find and destroy the package. Walter then tries to arrange Ruth’s escape, but the
train leaves; he is too late. Walter, a sensitive, good-hearted gentile but an apathetic
thinker, subsequently becomes actively involved in the Bulgarian antifascist struggle. 144
He represents either an exception in the German army or an example that not every
German military member was a monster during World War II. While the film was in its
making, Angel Wagenstein commented in 1958 at a conference in Prague that the
dialectical contradictions which led ultimately to an aesthetic maturity were complex. 145
Of Jewish origin himself, Wagenstein explained that he was interested in
reassessing the historical material of the Nazi era, to explore the psychology and
philosophy of fascism and understand the causes that led to a mass crime. However,
there are no horrifying pictures of violence and suffering in the film. The Nazi character
is devoid of the usual representation as a sadist or a fanatic ravenously craving to die for
coproduction with Czechoslovakia, Aesop (1970), has held its own over the years as a political
allegory. His last historical film was Boris the First (Boris I) (1984), directed by Borislav
Sharaliev.
Besides these, Wagenstein wrote a screenplay on the life of Goya (Goya, 1971), an East
German production directed by Konrad Wolf; the 70mm film was presented at the Cannes Film
festival. He also worked with Wolf on an interpretation of Saint-Exupéry’s fairy tale The Little
Prince (Der kleine Prinz, 1966) for East German television. Occasionally, he turns his attention
to theater and documentary film, as in the TV production Attempt to Fly (Opit za letene) (1981),
for the anniversary year. Holloway, 52-54.
144 Stars (Zvezdi), writ. Angel Wagenstein, dir. Konrad Wolf, perf. Sasha Krusharska, Jürgen
Frohriep, Erik S. Klein, and Stefan Pejchev, Boyana Film, 1958; Gencheva, vol. 2, 124–125.
145 Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) 1 (1958): 46.
86

his fuehrer. The focus is on the psychology of the ordinary Nazi. Wagenstein is also
interested in understanding how ordinary people were able to help a group of extremists
commit some of the most horrendous crimes against humanity.
Wagenstein finds the answer partly in the representation of one of the
protagonists, the egoistic and self-centered Kurt, who believes that “thinking would
damage one’s stomach.” 146 He personifies the “lost generation,” whose raison d’etre is la
dolce vita. Everything else is of little or no importance. Here Wagenstein and Wolf touch
on extremely important themes with which West German filmmakers would grapple
much later, as well. 147 Precisely this traumatized and demoralized generation of people
who had experienced World War I in the trenches or on the home front had created an
environment in which movements such as Nazism could thrive. 148 Thematically, the
film can be classified as a “film-reflection” or “film-discussion,” to use the definitions of
Neda Stanimirova. 149 Long dialogues and disputes between Walter and Kurt, and
between Walter and the Jewish woman, Ruth, touch on fundamental existential questions
revolving around the meaning of life. The stress is more on the philosophical and less on
the emotional. This film marks an important turning point in the modus operandi of films.
146 Erik S. Klein, perf., Stars (Zvezdi).
147 For example, Downfall (Der Untergang), writ. Joachim Fest and Traudl Junge, dir. Oliver
Hirschbiegel, perf. Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Ulrich Mattes, and Juliane Koehler,
Constantin Film Produktion, 2004 and Aimée & Jaguar, writ. Max Faeberboeck and Rona
Munro, dir. Max Faeberboeck, perf. Maria Schrader, Juliane Koehler, Johanna Wokalek, and
Heike Makatsch, Senator Film Produktion, 1999.
148 CSA, f. 303, op. 15, a.e. 506, list 15, 1984.
149 Ibid.
87

In the larger cultural arena, the Thaw, that period of relaxed censorship
throughout the Eastern Bloc after Stalin’s death, manifested itself in many areas. After
1957, for example, the public became enormously interested in painting, so Bulgarian
painters such as Vladimir Dimistrov-Maistora started creating realistic portraits and
reproductions of icons again. 150
This chapter demonstrated the first steps surrounding the creation of the film
industry and the complex relationship between the filmmakers and the Communist Party
between 1944 and 1958. It assessed major events in the early stages of the development
of the Bulgarian Cinematography and highlighted the beginning of subversive
filmmaking and the Western influence on Bulgarian filmmaking. It also outlined the
major cinematic themes, which will be explored in the following sections.
150 Kalinova and Baeva, 167.
88

CHAPTER 2
Silent Revolutions: Metahistory, Repression, and Rebellion in the 1960s
When I began there was only the suspicion that making up the story as you
went along was the way to survive. And if I know anything, I know how to survive,
how to remake the world in story. 1
–Dorothy Allison
Political Situation
In October 1961, during the 22 nd Congress of the Soviet Communist Party,
Khrushchev condemned Stalinism but reestablished the attacks against the filmmakers in
the country. In Bulgaria, just a month later, Premier Zhivkov followed in Khrushchev’s
footsteps by expelling former leader Tchervenkov, nicknamed “Little Stalin,” from the
Central Committee of the Communist Party. Zhivkov was known as a fox. Not
particularly smart, he was wily and knew how to flirt with the intelligentsia to keep the
group under his dictatorial thumb. However, Zhivkov was anxious that the
“Renaissance” after Stalin’s death, which allowed more economic and political freedoms,
might spin out of control, leading to anti-Communist uprisings. In 1957, Zhivkov had
already given his first interview to the New York Times in which he stated that Bulgaria
wanted to reestablish diplomatic relations with the USA, which had been cut off just after
1944. Diplomatic relations with the USA were officially resumed in March 1959, and for
1 Lilla Toke, “Paradoxes We Live With: A Feminist Interpretation of Two Eastern European
Women’s Films” (M.Phil. thesis, Central European University, Budapest, in conjunction with
Open University, United Kingdom, Gender and Culture, 2004), 1, quoting Dorothy Allison.
89

the first time since the end of World War II, the East started opening to the West. 2 From
the point of view of the Bulgarian government, this openness was necessary primarily for
economic and political reasons. But, when it came to the realm of culture, the Party was
afraid of the influx of Western influences. Zhivkov tried to play a double game. He
declared that art must continue to be ideologically driven, adding that the Communist and
bourgeois ideologies could coexist peacefully.
More overt attacks against the intelligentsia resumed in February 1962. Between
February and April, the Central Committee scheduled meetings with members of all Art
Unions, followed by a conference intended to confront the “ideological dislocation” of
the intellectual elite. With long speeches, Communist members tried to persuade cultural
leaders that if they did not fully accept the Party as cultural leader and continue to be
“ideologically diverse,” the West would be able to easily penetrate the Eastern Bloc and
the grand cause of Communism would be lost forever. 3
Zhivkov emphasized that foreign influences distracted the intelligentsia from the
road to socialist realism and that creative freedom could not exist outside the leadership
of the Party. Furthermore, the dictator called the latest works of the cineastes complete
nonsense and deformity and blamed especially the cineastes of “decadent pessimist
poetics, abstractionism, and pseudo-avant-gardism.” 4 What Zhivkov particularly
condemned were the films of former partisan fellows Zhelyazkova and Ganev (Life
Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho) (1957) and We Were Young (A byahme mladi)
2 Kalinova and Baeva, 186.
3 Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), Vol. 114, April 1962, 115–122.
4 Ibid.
90

(1960)). 5 As a result, the government alienated its base, since Zhelyazkova and Ganev
were devoted Marxists and idealists, thus crushing the intelligentsia’s hope for cultural
renewal. Zhivkovism established itself as merely another incarnation of Stalinism.
The cultural reawakening of the 1960s in Bulgaria is significant, because during
this period, film directors started perceiving themselves as auteurs. 6 During the 1960s the
cultural elite became disillusioned with those in power, realizing that the Communist
ideals for a better world, which continued to strongly attract them, were irreconcilable
with Zhivkov’s dictatorship. Left wing intellectual Angel Wagenstein, who had
participated in the resistance movement before 1945, commented:
After the chaos and complete devastation of World War II, we [the
intellectuals] thought that extreme measures were necessary in order to reestablish
order and make the transition to Communism. After seeing the empty
slogans, the widespread corruption and especially facing the fact that even after
Stalin’s death nothing was changing, we were shocked and speechless. 7
The silence of the intellectuals would become a sign of their submission, as well
as the only tool for self-preservation. This stillness manifested in the movies as an
apolitical attitude marked by a refusal to make films that glorified the Party. The
5
Zhivkov, Zhelyazkova, and Ganev were members of the same partisan group “Tchavdar”
before the events of 1944.
6 Already during the early 1950s, filmmakers in Western Europe and the United States, such
as Alfred Hitchcock, Ingmar Bergman, and many others started regarding themselves as “auteurs”
(authors) because the voice of the director dominated the narrative of the films. The idea that the
role of the director of the film is more important than the role of the film producer or writer
became leading ideology in the 1960s and 1970s. In Bulgarian cinema this trend is clearly visible
during the same decades as well. For more information see András Bálint Kovács, Screening
Modernism: European Art Cinema, 1950-1980 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007),
218.
7
Angel Wagenstein, interview with Elka Nikolova, dir., Binka: To Tell a Story About
Silence, Vreme Film Studio, 2006.
91

apolitical became a code for the new form of “Kunstpolitik” 8 that politicized the
Bulgarian intellectual elite. The films from this period were abstract, allegorical, angry,
and introspective. Many of them showed a mix of the absurd, the grotesque, and the
tragic, 9 highlighting the cineastes’ alienation, malaise, and discontent. The films are
intensely depressing and pessimistic, dealing with death, sickness, disease, nightmares,
and violence. Often just poorly made, they portray cinematographic backwardness with a
poor story. Most of their plots are set safely in the era before 1944. The subjects of these
films were completely arbitrary to the filmmakers, though the end products expressed
trauma and irritation, sheer horror and anxiety. Sometimes, the movies were captivating
and intense. In cases in which the director was unable to sublimate her or his annoyance
and sense of powerlessness, thereby transcending alienation, the movies were weak. 10
A good example of the auteurs’ depressed states of mind, which sometimes led
them to display a perverted delight in masochism, is represented in the film The White
Room (Byalata staya) (1968), directed by the talented Methodi Andonov 11 and scripted
8 Fritz Stern, The Politics of Cultural Despair: A Study in the Rise of Germanic Ideology
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1961), 137–138.
9 Prime examples are The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) (1968), Birds and
Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki) (1965), The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve) (1968), The White
Room (Byalata staya) (1968) and Monday Morning (Ponedelnik sutrin) (1966).
10
For the purposes of this research, I will discuss only the aesthetically mature works of the
period.
11 Born in Kališče, Bulgaria in 1932, Andonov, a master of the psychological drama, is
primarily known as the director of the biggest box office hit in Bulgarian history. After
graduating from the Sofia Academy of Dramatic Art (VITIS), he directed stage productions at the
Satirical Theater for a decade before making The White Room (Byalata staya) (1968), based on a
novel by Bogomil Raynov. This uncompromising confrontation with dogmatism in the Stalinist
period won him instant recognition at home and abroad. And it was, surprisingly, approved for
release in the post-”Thaw” period. Andonov next directed There’s Nothing Finer than Bad
Weather (Njama niŝto po-hubavo ot lošoto vreme) (1971), another detective story from a
92

y the mystically-inclined Bogomil Rainov, who will be discussed in the next section.
The protagonist in The White Room, a film about the last hours of a seriously ill writer,
says: “the art of living is to take hits, not to avoid them. To take hits means to make
compromises...I want to go somewhere. I do not go anywhere. But I go forward.” 12
Another indicator of the condition of the Bulgarian intellectual during the 1960s is
represented in a scene from the film The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) (1968).
(This film will be discussed in depth in the following section.) In the 1968 film, a young
woman in an expansive field of flowers is hunted by a group of German shepherds. At
the end of the scene she is able to find a ditch and jumps into it screaming, but the dogs
continue to show their heads and teeth while barking for several minutes at her. The
cameraman shot the episode from the perspective of the ditch-hiding victim. The scene’s
mood is postmodern, completely disconnected from the major narrative and, like a
nightmare; its visions come from and go to nowhere coherently. Another interesting
detail about the strange woman is that she cannot speak words. She appears several times
in the film, like a visitor from the “pre-verbal,” disrupting in a subversive way the
narrative. 13
screenplay by Rainov, and then the box office hit The Goat Horn (Kozijat rog) (1972). Seen by
more than three million people during its original release, it established writer-screenwriter
Nikolai Haitov as the country’s leading movie storyteller. Andonov’s last film, The Great
Boredom (Goljamata skuka) (1973), was another thriller scripted by Rainov. His premature death
in 1974 at age 42 was a major loss to Bulgarian cinema. Ron Holloway in Richard Taylor et al.,
eds., The BFI Companion to Eastern European and Russian Cinema (London: BFI Publishing,
2000), 15.
12 Apostol Karamitev, perf., The White Room (Byalata staya), writ. Bogomil Raynov, dir.
Methodi Andonov, Boyana Film, 1968. The scriptwriter of this film is the writer and mystic
Bogomil Rainov, who, in the 1960s and 1970s, became one of the closest friends and advisors to
Zhivkov’s daughter, Lyudmila Zhivkova.
93

As Lilla Toke comments:
While the mysterious woman is running away from a pack of dogs, she
jumps into a hole in despair. The dogs surround her barking. Interestingly, their
barking is “translated” into human speech by subtitles. In the meantime, the
villagers arrive asking all sorts of questions from the woman, who is still in the
hole. But their speech is unintelligible because it is turned into dogs’ barking.
This scene has a show quality because the normal act of talking is transformed
into an aestheticised playing. The people explain their behaviour saying that the
only way to get her speech back is to repeat the same shock that took it away.
However, the effect of the parallel twists is so powerful that this logical
explanation becomes redundant. The simple act of speech is turned inside out in a
way that undercuts a logical interpretation of what is seen. Speaking becomes
playing with speaking, playing upon the differences between the channels of
communication and representation.
In this scene also reality and illusion merge completely. The blending is
profound, because there is no marked border between the two worlds, and the
viewer remains confused about what is going on throughout the scene. The
disturbance on the level of the visual resides mainly in the subtitles, the written
text being laid over the voices. Subtitles are generally said to be disturbing in
film-perception because they drive away the eye from the image and force it into
reading besides watching and listening. The Attached Balloon brings this
13 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) (1968) is based on a short story by a well
known Bulgarian writer, Yordan Radichkov. This is the third movie of Binka Zhelyazkova and
the first movie in which she worked alone without her husband Christo Ganev. Zhelyazkova and
Ganev, both members of the underground movement studied together in Moscow. He studied
writing and she theater. Christo Ganev was very intellectual man, concerned primarily with the
state of the affairs and his own past as a partisan. He was 16-18 years old when he was a partisan
and he was disillusioned by the status quo. Binka Zhelyazkova was also in the antifascist
movement but she was concerned as well with other themes and women in particular. Her
feminism is evident in her films without her husband. After the couple’s first two banned films,
Life Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho) (1957) and We Were Young (A byahme mladi)
(1960), five years passed before she was again allowed to make another film. The difference in
themes and visual approach is obvious. Also Zhelyazkova herself added the character of the
young woman hunted by dogs. This character does not exist in the story. The way in which she
created it and depicted it in the film is feminist because silence and muteness are techniques that
she uses to describe women's experiences. Elka Nikolova, as well, compares her to early feminist
filmmakers and Angel Wagenstein adds in the film of Nikolova that the character of the running
woman is Binka herself hunted by her own demons. The plot was reworked for a successful stage
play, Attempt to Fly (Opit za letene), by Radichkov; it appeared in multiple productions at the
1979 Bulgarian Drama & Theater Festival in Sofia. As Holloway points out: By some quirk of
fate, Albert Lamorisse’s The Red Balloon (Le ballon rouge) (1956) and Trip in a Balloon (Le
voyage en ballon) (1960) inspired Andrei Mikhalkov-Konchalovsky’s The Boy and the Pigeon
(Malchik i golub) (1961) and Mikhail Kalik’s Man Following the Sun (Chelovek idyot za
solntsem) (1961) might have been the inspiration for Binka Zhelyazkova’s The Attached Balloon
some years later. Holloway, 90–91.
94

intrusion even further by applying subtitles in a completely absurd situation. The
subtitles suddenly pull the viewer into an entirely new perspective belonging to
the dogs and alienate from the “normal,” human perspective of the villagers.
Besides declaring representation to be a spectacle, here the film plays with the
cinematic point of view as well, showing its performative nature. 14
Zhelyazkova continued to make films about the theme of silence until the end of her
career. For example, one of the protagonists in Zhelyazkova’s last film made in the 1988,
On the Roofs at Night (Noshtem po pokrivite), interviews an old man. After being asked,
“What is silence?” the old gentlemen replies, “Silence is death.” 15
Because they refused to openly rebel against or collaborate with the regime, or to
even talk about Communism in their works, such “deathly silence” characterizes the
Bulgarian cineastes until the end of the Cold War. “The silent” appeared as blank spaces
between the lines of film scripts. Nothing was directly suggested but rather symbolically
implied. It was an absence which became the symbol of the ultimate presence of the
filmmakers. The love affair with silence and death provided the artists with temporary
relief. They sensed that their silence would have consequences, and such consequences
would be obvious after 1989 when an entire generation lost its innocence and ultimately
its memory. Today, the Bulgarian filmmakers and critics, who are still alive, have
difficulties talking about their Communist past.
Another protagonist of the film On the Roofs at Night says to his interviewer, “I
don’t share memories. I have no memories. I have forgotten everything.” 16 For people
14 Toke, 65.
15 Elka Nikolova, dir., Binka: To Tell a Story About Silence, Vreme Film Studio, 2006.
16 It is interesting to mention that in an interview with Elka Nikolova, Binka Zhelyazkova
had said that the best movie is the one that she still never made. There are so many ideas and
projects that she could never realize. However, she was happy that this movie is at least in her.
95

who have spent their entire lives under Communist rule, retrieving memories and talking
openly about their past is not an easy task. Interviews highlight the existence of a gap
regarding life experiences and political realities. It seems like the interviewees
consciously avoid connecting their existence to the Communist dictatorship. Many
conversations with filmmakers and film critics revealed a desire to extinguish the past
from their memories. 17 Not so long ago, this mass amnesia regarding the recent past was
demonstrated to the world in the 1999 destruction of the mausoleum of Georgui
Dimitrov, the country’s first Communist leader. 18 The refusal to confront the past leads
to a failure to achieve closure. In fact, the Dimitrov mausoleum is gone but since no
significant accounts on daily life under Communism have been produced, the fact of the
existence of the past is still almost unacknowledged until the present day.
Another recurring theme in the films of the 1960s is the longing for freedom.
Large flocks of birds flying freely in the sky can be seen in many Bulgarian movies, most
notably among them Birds and Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki) and We Were Young (A
byahme mladi). In the mid-1960s, Zhivkov started applying the cultural politics of
Tragically, during the early tenty-first century the filmmaker was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s
disease. As the disease progressed she would slowly lose her entire memory similar to her
protagonist in On the Roofs at Night.
17 Interviews with author: Gueorgui Stoyanov, 17 Aug. 2007; Georgi Djulgerov, 10 Jul.,
2007; and Plamen Maslarov, 11 Jun., 2007.
18 Ibid. Georgui Dimitrov was the first Bulgarian Communist dictator ruling the country
between 1946 and 1949. He was very active in the Resistance movement. He was placed in prison
several times before 1944, most notably by openly blaming Bulgaria for its participation in the
First World War in 1918 and being imprisoned in Berlin in 1933 upon accusations that he
participated in the destruction of the Reichstag. His case received worldwide sympathy and he
was released and immigrated to the Soviet Union where he planned the Bulgarian Communist
coup d’état in 1944. Dimitrov was a close follower of the Stalinist model of ruling and after his
death he was mummified and placed in a mausoleum in Sofia. Until the fall of Communism, each
Bulgarian child was obliged to visit the Leader (Vojd), bring flowers and bow in front of him. The
mausoleum became a symbol of Communism and was publicly blown up in 1999 in front of
cheering and celebrating crowds.
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ewards and punishments or “the sugar candy and the whip” as Bulgarian historians call
it. 19 As Angel Wagenstein commented, many intellectuals were bribed 20 with medals,
titles, new homes and cars, vacations, travel abroad, and access to special facilities at
which they were able to purchase gourmet foods and luxury items from the West, such as
whiskey, chocolate, clothes, and cigarettes, which were not accessible to the common
people. 21
In 1962, Khrushchev visited an exhibition of Moscow artists to demonstrate his
hostility against any artistic experimentation. In 1963, an article in the Bulgarian journal
Kinoart appeared in which the author stated that “If Dr. Khrushchev can criticize the
Russian cinema so sharply, we also need to examine the situation of our films and
struggle to improve their ideological and aesthetic qualities.” 22 In the same year, Zhivkov
organized a meeting with the Bulgarian intelligentsia. He was not happy, especially with
the film critics. 23
Between 1963 and 1968, the repressive nature of cultural politics was reflected in
the closure of the newspaper Literary News (Literaturni Novini) in which free thinking
writers such as scriptwriters Vasil Akiov, author of the script for Birds and Greyhounds,
Radoi Ralin and Stefan Prodev had expressed their liberal views. 24 The first issue of the
19 Kalinova and Baeva, 169.
20 Wagenstein, interview in Binka.
21 For more information see Kalinova and Baeva, 164.
22 Nikolova.
23 Ibid.
24 Ibid.
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newspaper was printed in 1961 on May 24 th , the official holiday devoted to culture and
education. This newspaper dramatically differed from other cultural journals and papers
already in print, because often it featured works of authors who had never been published
before. The writer Atanas Delchev vigorously criticized the dogmatic positions of Party
leaders, stating that modernism needed to be further advanced and developed in the arts,
not squelched. The paper opposed the tactics of Zhivkov to “tighten the screws” on the
intelligentsia, and in 1964, Literary News was banned. This was the only newspaper shut
down during the period 1960–1964. The following section will explore more in depth
some of the most significant films of this phase and the responses of contemporary critics
to them.
Films, Films, Films
We Were Young (A byahme mladi) (1960), produced by the couple Zhelyazkova
and Ganev, stands among the best cinematic works of the era. This is a very personal
movie in which Ganev, as the scriptwriter, reflected self-critically on his experiences as a
partisan. The plot takes place during the times of Resistance before 1944. It portrays the
activities of a young combat group in Sofia during World War II. Dimo and Veska,
members of the group, become acquainted at a secret meeting. The group’s first two
operations fail and Dimo is suspected of being a traitor. Veska, who is in love with Dimo,
still has faith in him. The real traitor turns out to be Slavcho, Veska’s former colleague
and a police agent. He spies on Veska and Dimo’s neighbors and learns that Mladen, the
group’s leader, often visits Dimo. Dimo is arrested, but does not betray his comrades. In
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front of Veska, his arms are set afire and he is killed. After Dimo’s death, Veska commits
suicide by taking poison. 25
First, the film was sent to the prestigious “Festival of the Bulgarian Film” that
took place every year in Varna and received the grand prize, “The Golden Rose,” among
other awards. In 1961, the film also received the first prize in the Moscow film festival
and several other festivals, such as the film festival in Colombia. 26 The Party censors did
not like the pessimistic tone of the movie and the portrayal of a traitor among the ranks of
partisans, who in the view of the Party must be represented only as martyrs and saints. 27
However, this film was not suppressed and enjoyed full screening.
The Inspector and the Night (Inspektorât i noshitta), 1963, scripted by Bogomil
Rainov and directed by Rangel Vulchanov, is another interesting work of the decade. A
detective encounters different sorts of people while investigating a cyanide poisoning
death in Sofia. The dead man, Marinov, was a rich playboy, who liked la dolce vita.
Marinov’s neighbors refuse to tell the inspector the truth about their relationship with the
victim. The postmortem reveals the man had lung cancer, but a physician had given him
cyanide so he could commit suicide. During the investigation, the inspector learns various
unsavory secrets about the people connected to Marinov, yet he is touched by their lives.
The inspector has to take charge of another case and finds he is unable to devote time to
his private life. The hero struggles to find the balance between his job and his moral
25 We Were Young (A byahme mladi), writ. Christo Ganev, dir. Binka Zhelyazkova, perf.
Dimitar Buynozov, Rumyana Karabelova, Lyudmila Cheshmedzhieva, and Georgi Georgiev-
Getz, Boyana Film, 1960: Gencheva, vol. 2, 156–157.
mladi.”
26 Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “A byahme
27 Gencheva, vol. 2, 156–157.
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obligation to save a girl that has lost direction. A tragic love affair is portrayed and
redemption achieved through suffering, when he realizes that he cannot live up to his
ideals. The film is melancholic and has pessimistic undertones, since the filmmakers
portray the unattainability of humanism because of human beings’ inabilities to live up to
their full potential. 28 Highly critical of the Communist reality, this film was, remarkably,
not suppressed. The movie demonstrates, notably, the interconnection between Bulgarian
cinema and the very popular Western crime thrillers of the time. 29
Sun and Shadow (Slântseto i syankata) (1962), is another work by the talented
director Vulchanov and a product of the collaboration between Bulgarian and
Czechoslovakian film studios. Especially after this film, Vulchanov was highly
influenced by the Czech New Wave. 30
The film presents an apocalyptic vision of nuclear war set against the background
of a dialogue between the protagonists who come from the both sides of the Iron Curtain.
The movie is a modern parable about the horror of nuclear war threatening peaceful life.
Interestingly, it was released on October 22, during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The plot is
as follows: a boy, son of a Bulgarian architect, meets a girl on the beach, the daughter of
a Western nuclear physicist. They talk of eternal human problems. She lives in constant
28 The Inspector and the Night (Inspektorât i noshitta), writ. Bogomil Rainov, dir. Rangel
Vulchanov, perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Nevena Kokanova, Dimitar Panov, and Stefan
Gadularov, Boyana Film, 1963; Gencheva, vol. 2, 207–209.
29
Sorlin, 138. Also see Geoffrey Nowell-Smith, Making Waves: New Cinemas of the 1960s
(New York: Continuum, 2008), 170–172.
30 Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Vulchanov,
Rangel.” Janakiev points out that “The Czech miracle” or the Czech New Wave is almost entirely
represented on the Bulgarian screens. Even if the Bulgarian cinematographers are not as excited
about Czech films as about Italian films, the Czech influence is clearly visible in the films of
some directors, such as Rangel Vulchanov, Gueorgui Stoyanov and later Edouard Zahariev;
Janakiev, 244.
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fear of an unavoidable nuclear war; he believes in common sense and the future. Carefree
games on the beach overshadow the specter of war. The final message of the film is in a
very 1960s-style, implying that one should “make love and not war,” that love and life
triumph over the forces of darkness. 31 The reviews of this film were positive. 32 In fact,
because Vulchanov wanted to avoid further criticisms about the elitist nature of Bulgarian
film, 33 the director realized that through science fiction he could find a “below-the-radar”
way of self-expression and at the same time attract more viewers.
The film Tobacco (Tyutyun) (1962), based on an adaptation of the novel by
Dimiter Dimov and directed by Nicola Korabov, is another important work of the era.
The plot, a story of a love affair set against the backdrop of social and political
developments during World War II Bulgaria, takes place primarily in the 1930s, while
the film provides an analysis of the human psyche. The protagonists climb to the social
top of the bourgeois ladder at the cost of their own moral desolation. Boris and Pavel are
sons of a poor village teacher. Pavel is a member of the Communist Party, while Boris
longs for power and money. Boris meets Irina, a policeman’s daughter. Pavel is in love
with Lila, Irina’s schoolmate. As the plot evolves, Boris suggests a more efficient method
of tobacco processing to the owner of the cigarette factory where he works. The new
31 Sun and Shadow (Slântseto i syankata), writ. Valeri Petrov, dir. Rangel Vulchanov, perf.
Georgi Naumov, Anna Prucnal, Gustaw Holoubek, and Rangel Vulchanov, Boyana Film, 1962;
Gencheva, vol. 2, 182–183.
32 In 1984, Neda Stanimirova went as far as comparing Vulchanov to Fellini because, like
Fellini, he liked building his films on top of the spring of the unconscious. See CSA, f. 303, op.
15, a.e. 506, list 33, n.d.
33 It is interesting to mention that Polish film scholar Anita Skwara spoke as well of the
“absence” of popular cinema in Poland. For more information see Dina Iordanova, ed., The
Cinema of the Balkans (London: Wallflower Press, 2006), 180.
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technique will increase profit but make workers redundant. Maria, the owner’s daughter,
is infatuated with Boris. After marrying Maria, Boris becomes the plant’s owner upon her
father’s death. Irina studies medicine in Sofia and Lila works in Boris’ factory. Lila and
Pavel agitate against the labor-saving machine. Threatened with imprisonment, Pavel has
to flee the country. At a students’ demonstration, Boris runs into Irina and she becomes
his mistress. The workers go on strike. Irina’s father, who commands the police squad
called in by Boris to disperse the strike, is killed. Irina is asked to help a wounded
partisan, who turns out to be Lila. Boris abandons his wife Maria, keeping his managerial
position at the factory and marries Irina. At an anniversary celebration, Boris suggests
that Irina charm a German businessman, von Geier, to help seal a major international
cigarette deal, and Irina becomes the German’s lover. While Irina, Boris, and the German
are in Greece, Boris dies of malaria. British forces advance and partisan activity
increases. Irina and von Geier drive back to Bulgaria with Boris’ body, but they are
stopped by the partisans. The German is detained. After the revolution, Irina has Boris
buried at the place where they first met. Finally, Irina stands alone as a shot rings out. 34
The major strength of this film is the story itself. Dimiter Dimov’s novel,
unavailable at that period in Bulgarian bookstores, had been translated into many
languages. 35 The film was faulted by contemporary critics as being too illustrative and,
again, not ideologically driven. Critic Ivan Stoyanovich also added that the richness of
the female and male protagonists in the novel was not reflected on the screen. This film
34 Tobacco (Tyutyun), writ. and dir. Nicola Korabov, perf. Nevena Kokanova, Yordan
Matev, Miroslava Stoyanova, and Ivan Kasabov, Boyana Film, 1962; Gencheva, vol. 2, 184–187.
35 Grozev, 110.
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also made the Bulgarian actress Nevena Kokanova a star and a box office hit by
attracting 4,316,234 viewers to Bulgarian movie theaters. 36
The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi) (1964), the directorial debut of Vŭlo
Radev. 37 is a lyrical and psychological melodrama based on an adaptation of Emilian
Stanev’s novella in which the grand passion between a young Bulgarian woman and a
Serbian POW is thwarted by tragic consequences in World War I. This film illustrates
important stylistic gains in the late 1950s and the early 1960s, where a lyrical, poetic
style had replaced the schematic formulas of the Stalinist years. 38
As András Kovács writes: “All that is at stake in modern melodrama is
understanding helplessness. Melodrama is a form of classical narrative that subjects the
protagonists to dead end situations.” 39 In the female lead was already established film
diva, Nevena Kokanova. The film starts with ragged POWs loitering in the picturesque
and romantic city streets of the Bulgarian city, Veliko Turnovo, as the Great War is
drawing to an end. The city’s provost marshal keeps his childless wife Lisa enclosed by
36 Janakiev, 298.
37 Vŭlo Radev (born 1923 in Lesidren). After graduating from the Moscow Film School
(VGIK) in 1953 as a cameraman, he worked for Nikola Korabov and Janko Jankov on various
projects, the most significant being Korabov’s historical epic based on a popular novel by Dimiter
Dimov, Tobacco (Tyutyun) (1962). His breakthrough as a director occurred with his debut film,
The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi) (1964); he also wrote the screenplay, but surprisingly
did not photograph the film. The international success of The Peach Thief, together with films by
Rangel Vulchanov and Binka Zhelyazkova, heralded New Bulgarian Cinema and a school of
poetic realism. Like The Peach Thief, Radev’s next film, Tsar and General (Tsar i General)
(1966), a wide-screen production, used a literary source, and its success placed the director in the
front ranks of the young national cinematography. His later films, although less impressive, are
still striking in visual concept: The Longest Night (Nay-dalgata nosht) (1967), Black Angels
(Chernite angeli) (1970), and Doomed Souls (Oshedeni dushi) (1975) (another adaptation of a
Dimiter Dimov novel). He has also made documentary films. Holloway, 64-65.
38 Holloway, 90–91.
39 Kovács, 89.
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the thick walls of his bourgeois mansion with a peach tree orchard, which the marshal
obsessively protects from birds with a scarecrow. Lisa’s loneliness ends one day when
she discovers a Serbian POW, Ivo, who has slipped out of the camp, picking peaches in
the back yard. Lisa generously offers the peaches to the POW. She falls in love with Ivo
and this changes her outlook on the world, a change that does not escape the notice of her
much older and estranged husband. Ivo falls in love as well. For him, “they both are in
prison.” At the end of the war, when it becomes clear that Bulgaria is going to lose, bread
riots break out in the city, and the provost marshal orders the POW camp moved. Orders
are given that anyone from the camp wandering close to any house in the city is to be
shot on sight. Ivo runs away from the camp to go to Lisa but is killed approaching her
home. 40 The film ends showing Lisa rushing madly in a white nightgown to meet her
lover after hearing him whistle their secret song followed by a shot. When she arrives, it
is too late; she finds Ivo dead and can only embrace his corpse.
This film has a cathartic impact on the viewer. Even if Lisa and her lover never
unite, they have experienced pure love and passion. In a way, through the death of Ivo,
their love is preserved eternally, yet love, the film suggests, is always tragic. Touching
on the mythic leitmotiv about the interplay between Eros and Thanatos, this oeuvre
deserves a place within the rich pantheon of Western works of art dedicated to the
exploration and reflection of love and death. 41 Despite the heartbreaking finale, the
director also wanted to convey that historical circumstances cannot deprive human beings
40 The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi), writ. and dir. Vŭlo Radev, perf. Nevena
Kokanova, Rade Markovic, Mikhail Mikhajlov, and Vasil Vachev, Boyana Film, 1964:
Gencheva, vol. 2, 229–231.
41
See Rudolph Binion, Love beyond Death: The Anatomy of a Myth in the Arts (New York:
New York University Press, 1993).
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of the freedom to love, feel, and dream. As the French film critic Albert Servoni
commented in 1976, “The love between Lisa and Ivo, divided by nationalist prejudices
and an absurd historical situation, is beautiful, complex and tragic.” 42 Here, Servoni
compares Radev’s film to Jean Renoir’s Grand Illusion. 43 In fact, Radev has portrayed
the historical past very accurately. The viewer can feel the dissatisfaction and
disillusionment of the Bulgarian army with fighting on the side of the Germans against
their Serbian and Greek Balkan neighbors. After seeing the hungry, barefooted Serbian
POW officer, Ivo, Lisa is overwhelmed by compassion and offers him bread, goat cheese,
and vegetables. He speaks Serbian and she Bulgarian, but because of the similarities of
Slavic languages they can understand each other, communicating easily.
The major narrative of the film is often interrupted by philosophical conversations
in French between Ivo and a French POW captain in the camp. Scenes of dramatic moods
and emotions are harmoniously followed by dialogues grappling with the existential
themes of the purpose of war and the meaning of life and love. Radev confessed that after
the critical acclaim of his colleagues from the Union of Bulgarian Film Makers, the script
was, nevertheless, sharply criticized by people from the upper echelons of the Party. The
officials insisted that the film was without an ideological framework. In response, Radev
then came up with an idea, in order to obey the orders from the Party, to reflect the
ideological paradigms of the day by adding the French conversation scenes between Ivo
42 Vŭlo Radev, Izgubeni Prostranstva (Lost Spaces) (Sofia: Literaturen Forum, 2002), 302.
43 Ibid.
105

and the captain. He also added chessboard scenes, making the actors “converse” by
playing chess. 44 Here is an excerpt from the dialog.
The French captain and Serbian POW play chess in the camp.
IVO OBRENOVICH (The Serbian POW): Outside the prisoners are singing.
DE GRUE (The French Captain): You my friend are naïve. A couple of shots, a
song, and you already rejoice. It’s not the first time humanity tries to change those
who determine its destiny.
OBRENOVICH: Yes, and the struggle continues despite everything.
DE GRUE: Because you want to be disappointed again.
OBRENOVICH: What about the events in Russia?
DE GRUE: I am afraid that your Nordic dreamers have forgotten the Paris
Commune… Understand, the game cannot happen [De Grue points to the chess
figures]…if the figures do not stay on their right positions.
OBRENOVICH: Perhaps we will invent a new game with new figures and new
rules.
DE GRUE: This is possible if everybody is in love. 45
The passage above clearly indicates that by following the orders of the Politburo,
Radev succeeded in pleasing the Party, at the same time loading the text with subversive
codes. Another example of dissidence is presented in a scene in which Obrenovich and
De Grue have a different conversation. De Grue asks: “Why don’t you protest? You are
free!” [Meaning you could get out of this camp and reunite with the love of your life.]
Obrenovich responds: “I don’t want to. Before protesting, a human being must know the
truth. You first must free your mind from lies.” 46
Radev’s major goal is to tell a story about love, solitude, and the impossibility of
happiness. One of his chief aims is also to tell stories in a beautiful way. As Radev
44 Ibid., 75.
45 Ibid.; The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi).
46 The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi).
106

writes, “I did not make an ugly scene in my entire career.” 47 Nothing in this film remotely
suggests that it was made during the Communist era. In its emotional intensity;
anthropomorphic features; the interinvolvement of Eros, death, and passion; the
perception of art as other than life or as art in the life of the decadent, 48 Radev’s film can
be compared to Visconti’s Senso (1954). Senso is a deeply political film as well.
Based on the forgotten novella by Camillo Boito, Visconti’s Senso became one of
his most characteristic signatures. The film, whose major plot is based on the tragic love
affair between the married Italian aristocrat Countess Livia Serpieri and the Austrian
officer Franz Mahler, tells the story of the destructive forces of consummated sexual
passion. The drama takes place in the midst of Italy’s resistance to Austrian occupation.
Blinded by her passion, Livia gives to her lover the money that she is supposed to
preserve for Italian patriots. With it, Franz purchases a life of luxury, the company of
prostitutes, and a medical certificate that excuses him from military service. After
discovering the motives behind Mahler’s affection, enraged Livia reports him to the
Austrian authorities. The film ends with Franz’s execution, showing the maddened Livia
wandering through Verona calling her dead lover’s name. Livia is mourning the death of
her lover despite her anguish about this betrayed love. 49 In contrast, Lisa will always
bear the memory of Ivo, unspoiled. In this way, Radev’s female protagonist is redeemed
47 Radev, 302.
48 Henry Bacon, Visconti: Explorations of Beauty and Decay (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1998), 171, citing Youssef Ishaghpour, Visconti – Le sens et l’image (Paris:
Editions de la difference, 1984), 154.
49 Senso, writ. Luchino Visconti and Suso Cecchi d’Amico, dir. Luchino Visconti, perf.
Alida Valli, Farley Granger, Heinz Moog, and Rina Morelli, Lux Film, 1954.
107

y death. The death of Franz, on the other hand, leaves Livia disillusioned about the
uplifting and transcendent powers of Eros.
Despite the Viscontian mood throughout the film, Radev depicted the female
character in a much more sympathetic manner. Visconti respected his actors as did
Radev. At the same time, Radev had high expectations for them. He commented about
Nevena Kokanova, who played his female protagonist Lisa. “God blessed Nevena with
reflectivity, intuition, and self abandonment. Sometimes before shooting a scene I played
the Italian song ‘Rosa Got Married’ in order to bring her into an acting disposition.” 50
Kokanova emerged after the film as the biggest diva of Bulgarian cinema.
Already overbooked and gloriously popular during the filming, the actress did not receive
the permission from the theater where she was employed full time to take time off for
shooting. After a long working day on the set, she would then sit in a car and ride back to
Sofia at night, one hundred miles away from Turnovo where The Peach Thief was filmed.
The journey took her five hours each way. At first she had chauffeurs, but later she
preferred to drive herself. Often she arrived in the morning, back from the capital, only to
go immediately to her dressing room, where her hair was done up while she was
sleeping. 51
As Radev writes,”Nevena slept everywhere during the making of the movie; on
the stairs of houses, in the horse stall, under the chestnut trees, in cars behind houses, just
50 Radev, 85 (author’s translation).
51 Ibid (author’s translation).
108

everywhere. But the reason for her fatigue was not only due to her busy schedule but also
due to her regular presence in the bar.” 52
Expectedly, the film became a huge commercial success in 1964, attracting
2,519,187 viewers. 53 The Italian influence in the film was not random. Radev pointed out
in an interview with Docho Bochakov in 1995 that he was influenced by the work of
Charles Chaplin, Michail Rom, Jean Renoir, Michelangelo Antonioni, and Luchino
Visconti. 54 Asked to explain his “tolerance” or even “love affair” with the church and the
army, he replied, “It is a question of personal experience— the church and the army—
these are the places where I found my teachers.” 55 Radev continued:
I am religious in a way. I believe in a being that tries to balance the chaos
around us. Recently, I am interested more and more in the Christian God. I try to
understand him. He has sacrificed his son in the name of humanity. This is a great
idea and unbearable suffering. From time to time I light a candle. Perhaps it will
relieve the pain of God…and my pain for Radi, too. 56
Several scenes in the film are connected to religion. The film both begins and
ends with images of death; at first, with a ringing of a church bell, a funeral procession
for war casualties, led by an old village priest, chanting and spreading incense, proceeds
towards the cemetery. The priest is followed by women dressed in black. In another
episode, Lisa goes to church after having surrendered to her passion for Ivo.
52 Ibid.
53 Janakiev, 299.
54 Radev, 302.
55 Ibid., 17.
56 Ibid., 20. Radev lost his young and only son, Radi, in a car accident in 1981.
109

The Peach Thief was chosen by Italian representatives for the famous Venice
Film Festival before its theatrical release in Bulgaria. Radev and Kokanova arrived in
Venice on August 29, 1964 and made their way to the Excelsior Hotel at the Lido. As
Radev recalled:
shown.
While we were on the boat, Rade was talking about the film and about the
press conference this morning. We did not listen. At that moment, we were
captives of this unique and most beautiful city on earth; Canale Grande, Ponte
Rialto, Piazza San Marco – images that are somehow imprinted in human
consciousness, we dream of them, we long for them… The last stop was the Lido.
We left the boat and were immediately attacked by the press. 57
This is how Radev described the Italian evening during which the film was
The halls were overfilled. Nevena received a huge bouquet of roses.
People reached for us wanting autographs. We bowed to the public and took our
seats. The lights slowly went down. My entire body was trembling. The public
reacted lively and applauded three times. After the end, the applause was long. 58
Twelve films from eight countries were selected for the Venice Film Festival.
“The Golden Lion” first prize was received by Antonioni for The Red Desert (Il deserto
rosso) (1964). The Special Jury Prize was shared by Pier Paolo Pasolini (The Gospel
According to St. Matthew) and Soviet director Grigori Kozintsev (Hamlet).
Despite the film crew’s hopes that their film would receive the special, “Opera
Prima,” prize, The Peach Thief, unfortunately, went home empty handed. As Radev
commented:
We were happy just to be there, to meet the jury, other filmmakers, and the
press. I also realized that the awarding of prizes is a complex political,
57 Radev, 109.
58 Ibid., 110.
110

commercial and diplomatic game that often has little to do with the actual
qualities of a nominated film. 59
However, the film received excellent reviews. As critic Ivan Stoyanovich wrote:
When you watch the film The Peach Thief, you become nostalgic and
melancholic. Your mood is like the mood that takes over us by listening to lyrical
music or looking at a beautiful painting. No words can describe the feelings you
have while listening to a musical phrase or looking at colors. You can forget
everything about The Peach Thief, but the atmosphere will stay with you. 60
Radev’s two films, The Peach Thief, and his later work Tsar and General (Tsar i
General) (1965), were huge commercial successes and received other important film
awards in the country. 61 As a personal reward, Radev was sent, together with his wife to
Paris for six months in 1968. 62
The Cultural Arena between 1965 and 1969
Every period of solid materialism is followed by times of spirituality. We are
now living in a kind of dark tunnel of suffering, unable to communicate with another,
but I already feel I can see a gleam in the distance, a sense of new freedom: we must
try to believe in this possibility of salvation. 63
–Federico Fellini
In 1965, the poet Constantin Pavlov published his book Poems (Stichove). The
book provoked an array of critical publications by different newspapers accusing Pavlov
of being alienated and pessimistic, one who tries to elevate the dirty and disgusting onto
59 Ibid., 112.
60 Ibid., 140.
61
Tsar and General was viewed by 1,257,408 people in Bulgaria during its year of release.
Janakiev, 299.
62 Zheni Radeva, Stop Kadar (Stop. Cut!) (Sofia: Galeria Vedart, 2004), 36.
63 Fellini, 158.
111

an aesthetic pedestal. Shortly after these articles appeared, the book was removed from
all bookstores and then went out of print. 64 Pavlov was told that he was not allowed to
write poetry anymore. At the same time in one of the largest theaters in the capital, the
play Improvisations (Improvizatii), written by Nedjalko Jordanov and Valeri Petrov, the
scriptwriter of On a Small Island, was discontinued. Also sharply criticized were two
theater plays by Nedjalko Jordanov – We Do Not Believe in Storks (Nie ne vjarvame v
sturkeli) and In Hope for Tomorrow (Vjara v budesteto). Fortunately, no films were
suppressed in 1965, but shortly after, as we will see, the Party resumed the practice of
vigorous film censorship. 65
In 1966 and 1967, the Politburo of the Bulgarian Communist Party’s Central
Committee decided to go further in fighting what they called “the ideological diversion of
imperialism.” Two significant films, Monday Morning (Ponedelnik sutrin) and The
Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) were suppressed, 66 an event that reminded the
cineastes again of the narrowly circumscribed boundaries of their freedom.
Monday Morning (Ponedelnik sutrin) (1966), a film made by the two directors,
Christo Piskov and his wife, Irina Aiktasheva, is a psychological drama about the
development of a young, freedom-loving woman amid members of the workforce.
Piskov had received a degree from the VGIK in 1954, where he had met Irina who was
then specializing in acting. 67
64 Kalinova and Baeva, 169.
65 Ibid., 164.
66 Ibid.
112

Toni, a girl from a large provincial town, is portrayed as an emancipated, fun -
loving, and frivolous woman who looks with skeptical contempt on everybody and
everything. She is a woman, a prostitute by implication only, without a past, asserting
that “the whole of [her] is just future.” 68 Toni says, “I am a human being, not a body.” 69
She loves American music and dances the Twist. A scene shows her looking with
admiration and devotion at a big church. She meets Yordan who is different from
everybody she knows and falls in love with him. He tries to “reform” her and helps her
get a job with his production team, which aspires to the title “Team for Communist
Labor.” The relations among the team members are insincere, and her arrival, especially
since she is the only woman on the work team, brings all their faults and shortcomings to
the surface. Toni despises the hypocrisy and cynicism of her colleagues. After they win
the coveted title, the general manager and the team do all they can to get rid of her.
Yordan proposes marriage but Toni does not feel ready. One morning she leaves the
apartment to bring milk and croissants and never returns.
Monday Morning was immediately stopped from screening. The plot of the film is
contemporary and the movie exposes quite openly the hypocrisy of Communism,
criticizing the propaganda and double standards of the system. The “fallen woman” Toni
is the most positive character in the film. She refuses to “play the game” with the rest of
the characters, whose existences reflect life’s banality and ennui under Communist
67
Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Ponedelnik
sutrin.”
68 Monday Morning (Ponedelnik sutrin), writ. Hikola Tiholov, dir. Christo Piskov and Irina
Aktasheva, perf. Pepa Nikolova, Asen Kisimov, Kiril Gospodinov, and Petar Slabakov, Boyana
Film, 1966; Gencheva, vol. 2, 279.
69 Ibid.
113

control. Her dreams go beyond living an average married life in a small apartment. She
dreams about going to Copenhagen, looking for authenticity and real happiness. 70 The
film has a strong feminist element in it. In addition to the portrayal of a strong woman
who dominates the screen, Toni’s character is devoid of femininity. With her boyish
appearance and temperament and lack of erotic beauty, Toni does not function as a sexual
object of “the gaze.” She is also not a victim. This film first made its appearance on the
Bulgarian screens after the end of the Cold War in 1990 and was awarded a special prize
by the Bulgarian Union of Film Makers. 71
One of the most significant works in terms of stylistics and cinematography of the
1960s is the film The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) (1968), made by the first
female director in Bulgaria, Binka Zhelyazkova. Zhelyazkova directed this film after five
years of silence, having been prohibited by the Party to make movies after her first two
works in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Again, contemporary audiences remained
clueless about the existence of this masterpiece. This film, like so many others, was
immediately suppressed from screening, and the director was fired from the film industry
until 1972, when she was finally allowed to make another film. 72
70 Ibid.
Christo.”
71 Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Piskov,
72 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) was on its way to become an international
success when it suddenly disappeared. It participated and received very good comments at the
film festival in Montreal and was invited to the Venice film festival as well. There were already
quite a few contracts signed between the Bulgarian production company and Western European
as well as American distributors by the time party officials decided its banning. The political
conjuncture represented in the cinema broke all the contracts, withdrew the film from the
program of the Venice Film Festival and shelved it for exactly twenty-two years (until 1989). For
more information, see Elka Nikolova.
114

The story of The Attached Balloon is about the people of the small Bulgarian
village of Cherkask and their encounters with a lost war-balloon over the course of a
twelve hour period (5:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.) during the Second World War. 73 It starts
with three announcements: bread is being handed out, a dangerous person is hiding
somewhere, and European time is adopted in order to coordinate with the Axis Powers.
As the village is waking up, a little girl notices the balloon in the sky. The girl asks:
“Hey, who are you?” 74 This girl never reappears in the rest of the film.
The peasants decide to chase and pull down the balloon in order to cut it into
pieces and use the silk for making clothes. First, they try to build a tower out of all sorts
of things, but it collapses. Next they try to shoot, without success, the wafting balloon.
Finally, the villagers choose to follow the balloon heading towards a big hill, which, they
are convinced, will be able to stop it. However, by the time they fight their way through a
thicket full of thorns, the balloon is far away again. While taking out their anger on a
poor donkey, the pursuers are mocked by the neighboring villagers. After a long verbal
assault, they finally end up having a “real fight” very much resembling a strident ballet.
Then the two villages join forces to try to catch the balloon.
As a leitmotiv, a frightened woman appears from time to time, hunted by invisible
forces. The villagers find her and take her with them on their hunt, but she escapes again
when they finally catch the balloon that comes down to the earth. The people start
73 See Lilla Toke, 66–68. I decided to adopt the story of the Balloon from Lilla Toke’s
Master’s thesis because she offers a very sophisticated analysis on the historical and gender
dimensions of the film.
74 See The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon), writ. Yordan Radichkov, dir. Binka
Zhelyazkova, perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Grigor Vachkov, Ivan Bratanov, and Georgi Georgiev-
Getz, Boyana Film, 1968.
115

playing with it—swinging, jumping, and sliding on its surface. Instead of tearing the
balloon apart, they decide to take it back to the village “like an animal.” At this point
police arrive, and in order to save the balloon, the villagers let it fly away. However,
instead of escaping, it turns around and tries to fight the soldiers back, but in the end it is
shot “dead.” The villagers tacitly support the balloon’s fight, and because of this
alliance, the police brutally punish them with one hundred lashings. One of the policemen
adds jokingly, “I will give you the whip now, and tonight you will give it to your wife.” 75
In the meantime, one of the villagers follows the young woman, ordering her to stop, and
when she doesn’t, he shoots her in the back. The film ends with the villagers carrying
away the dead, young woman and with the army taking the packed balloon, while most of
the people are left behind, staring at those departing. One of them has a small scrap of
balloon cloth in his hands, and they start fighting over it and tearing it apart.
In this parable depicting the absurdity of life in general and its particular silliness
in a Balkan village, the emergence of the barrage balloon touches off a whole range of
reactions and emotions. The balloon is animated by reciting long monologues, running,
flirting with the local girls, spying on women bathing in a mountain lake, dancing with
the villagers, and letting them play on top of him. It asks rhetorical questions: “I am
wondering, who you are. Did I invent you or did you invent me?” The balloon as a
symbol evokes phallic associations and at the same time it appears androgynous because,
in a subversive way, it resists logical interpretation and its presence transcends
explanation in terms of binary opposites such as “feminine” and “masculine.” The film
viewer anticipates closure by linking together the anxious woman and the balloon, in
75 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon).
116

some way, as a phallic signifier. In a conventional narrative it could be possible that the
balloon provides refuge for the desperate woman. For example, in the last scene of
Stromboli, Rossellini redeems his female protagonists through her embrace of a
mountain, which could be symbolically seen as a phallic signifier. 76 Conversely, the
woman in The Attached Balloon refuses to join the villagers in their ritual dance towards
the balloon and escapes for a second time.
A closer reading of the film suggests a deeper symbolic interpretation, especially
of its final scenes. After the balloon surrenders to the earth, the villagers start dancing
around it, touching it, brutally and obscenely caressing it, sliding on it, and kissing it. The
scene startles as it suggests a symbolic rape. A man from the crowd stabs his knife into
the balloon, and the villagers descend into a state of orgiastic ecstasy, resembling a
Dionysian rite during which all reason consciousness is abandoned. A crying little boy
watches the bestial orgy around the balloon. Timidly, the woman joins the crowd, but she
seems to relate to the balloon on a different level. She caresses it gently and takes the
knife from its exterior. Trying then to escape with the knife, she is shot by one of the
villagers.
Another disturbing scene is the shooting of the balloon by the police. The
balloon’s surface is punctured by several small holes, slowly opening up. Its inside
resembles an empty wound. The village spectators gaze at a dark bare space. András
Kovács writes that the concept of nothingness, influenced by Sartre’s existentialist
76 As Lacan argues, the phallus in the patriarchal order is the only signifier. It occupies a
position of both privilege and wholeness. The desire to possess the phallus is a desire for
wholeness. At the end, Karin finds “wholeness” by lying over the mountain and almost erotically
embracing it. She literally surrenders to the mercy of the phallus, as a symbol and signifier of
patriarchy. For more details, see Stromboli, writ. and dir. Roberto Rossellini, perf. Ingrid
Bergman, Mario Vitale, Renzo Cesana, and Mario Sponzo, RKO, 1950.
117

philosophy, is central to modernist films from the 1950s and 1960s, 77 like The Attached
Balloon. As Kovács emphasizes:
Nothingness is a positive category. Between what was and what could be
there is a hole, an empty space, where man is free to choose. Nothingness is an
empty moment in the world, where man is liberated from his past and must
choose. . . Nothingness is the definition of freedom. 78
According to Sartre, nothingness is created when a human wish or expectation is
frustrated. 79 In this respect, Zhelyazkova’s film illustrates not only her frustration but
also her achievement of artistic freedom through her film. She creates “empty spaces”
which provide her with the option of inscribing her own meaning. The story is broken not
just by the appearances of the anxious woman but also by ruptures in which big titles
mocking propaganda posters flash on the screen, with sayings such as “God created the
world and it was good” or “The goal justifies the means.” In addition to the conscious
fracturing of the narration, the story ends with a disturbing dissonance. The woman and
the balloon are dead and are both carried away by the villagers. The viewer is left
unsatisfied, unable to find “jouissance.” 80
By denying her film viewers the experience of “bliss,” Zhelyazkova successfully
communicates her own alienation as a filmmaker and a woman. At the same time, by
depriving her heroine of speech, Zhelyazkova revolts against the ruling order. According
to Kristeva, one must confront the initial silence in order to create new language. 81 In
77 Kovács, 92.
78 Ibid., 93.
79 Sartre cited in Kovács, 92.
80 In this context, I use jouissance as synonymous with bliss or redemption.
118

Zhelyazkova’s works silence is equal to the notion of nothingness; In other words, silence
equals freedom—perhaps a new language. However, the film does not have redemptive
quality nor does it suggest answers as does Zhelyazkova’s later work, The Last Word
(Poslednata duma) (1973). The Attached Balloon is a rebellious but profoundly
pessimistic work of art reminiscent of Greek tragedy.
Zhelyazkova’s film is polymorphous and archetypal in structure, employing
people, a balloon, scarecrows, and a donkey as protagonists. Its loud and atonal music
and sounds evoke a sense of psychosis, while the mood of medieval spectacle and
carnival atmosphere is prevalent in the story. Another interesting episode is the dance of
the scarecrows, and the horo (a Bulgarian traditional dance in which the dancers form a
circle holding hands and move dynamically) of the village men and women with the
balloon. Here, the story dips into paganism and, in some ways, becomes animistic. The
viewer experiences the feeling of flying or falling. 82
The donkey in the film is an apotheosis of stupidity. 83 As one of the villagers
jokes, “you cannot make a European from a donkey.” 84 The villagers in their
exasperation after the tiresome and painful climbing of the hill, which proves to be in
vain because the balloon flies away, meet a boy on a donkey. In their anger that he came
a much easier way, they take his donkey and try to make it canter. However, as it will not
move, they decide to carry it themselves. All attempts to lift the creature fail until they
81 Kristeva, 9.
82 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon); Toke, 66-68; Gencheva, vol. 2, 300–301.
83 Some rumors exist in the film industry today that an unknown cineaste was jealous of the
film and told Premier Zhivkov, “Comrade Zhivkov, do you know that you are the donkey in the
film?”; Nikolova.
84 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon).
119

circle around the donkey, and approaching it at the same time from each side, finally
raise it up on their shoulders. A discussion about whether they should carry it ensues. In
the end, they agree that they shouldn’t, but then the question comes up, why did they lift
it in the first place? 85
Another important element of the film is the representation of time. Lilla Toke
argues that time in the film flows very differently than in other films and that the director
consciously chooses to represent time as a sign of revolt. Such representation of time, as
Toke claims, reflects “female subjectivity as it gives itself up to intuition becoming a
problem with respect to a certain conception of time: time as project, teleology, linear,
and prospective unfolding; time as departure, progression, and arrival – in other words,
the time of history” 86
Kristeva sees a direct relationship between subjectivity and how we experience
time and argues that the female subject might have a different sense of time, therefore
challenging the assumption of a universally understood narrative chronology. Kristeva
argues that women’s experiences of time are different from date- and time-driven
historical accountings, especially within history writing during the past two hundred
years, partly because women have been pushed out of the historical experience. Instead,
she claims that women’s time is a cosmic, mythical time, based on repetition and eternity,
which “are found to be the fundamental, if not the sole, conceptions of time in numerous
civilizations and experiences.” 87
85 See The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon); and Toke, 60–90.
86 Julia Kristeva quoted in Toke, 70–85.
87 Ibid.
120

The reasons why The Attached Balloon was banned are not entirely clear. 88 One
could hypothesize that Zhelyazkova, a woman labeled dissident, and someone who was
inconvenient to handle, was in a particularly vulnerable position and that the Party was
looking for reasons to fire her. The dismissal of intellectuals was an interesting process.
In fact, the Party never really fired them. Even inactive, they received salaries but were
obliged to attend uncomfortable meetings, cocktail parties, and take free “indoctrination”
vacations on the Black Sea at camps for members of the Cultural Unions. It was just such
veiled but highly public humiliation that had particularly demoralizing and degrading
effects on the intelligentsia. Not until the last decade of the Cold War did critics praise
The Attached Balloon as equal to the films of Tarkovsky and Bergman. 89
Another interesting work of the 60s decade is Knight without Armor (Ritsar bez
bronya) (1966), scripted by Valeri Petrov and directed by Borislav Sharaliev. In this
lyrical drama, the complexity of a grownups’ world is seen through the eyes and
emotions of a nine-year-old boy. A Sofia family is fussing about their new car. On their
first outing, little Vanyo is scolded for his antics. While enjoying a picnic meal, the car’s
brakes fail and the car slides down a slope. Thankfully, the child is not inside. Vanyo
dons a suit of cardboard armor and plays in the streets with wooden swords. He is
puzzled as to why his parents don’t stand up for the truth and match their words with
deeds. His uncle is the only person he trusts, one who does not interrupt him and who
treats him seriously, and they often go on walks together. At home, the boy hugs a rock
88 The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon).
89 Nikolova.
121

crystal his uncle has given him as a gift to show off to his friends. What challenges in life
await this little knight, left without armor to protect him against the rest of the world? 90
Using a child’s world as the backdrop, the film’s message goes far beyond the
story line. The child hero becomes a filter for revealing the problems of the adult
world. 91 This film was one of numerous “lyrical dramas,” a genre specific to the 1950s
and 1960s that began the important tradition among filmmakers of using children as
protagonists and mediums for communicating their dissatisfaction with the regime. It is
interesting to mention that, especially during the 1970s and 1980s, this genre was
particularly embraced by female filmmakers. 92
Tsar and General (Tsar i General), a film made by Radev in 1966, highlights the
career and last days of Bulgarian General Vladimir Zaimov, who was sentenced to death
and executed in 1942.
General Zaimov was detected as a Soviet agent and sentenced to death by firing
squad. During this time, the Bulgarian monarch Tsar Boris III was away hunting,
following the progress of the execution via field telephone. Through flashbacks, the tsar
recalls the events of the preceding months. The German offensive had been contained at
Moscow, and Hitler was expected to send a personal envoy to the tsar to ask for a
Bulgarian troop commitment on the Eastern Front. The tsar wants to avoid such a visit, so
he travels to his Black Sea residence, but the Nazi officers find him there. The tsar offers
90 Knight without Armor (Ritsar bez bronya), dir. Borislav Sharaliev, writ. Valeri Petrov,
perf. Apostol Karamitev, Oleg Kovachev, Mariya Rusalieva, and Tzvyatko Nikolov, Boyana
Film, 1966; Gencheva, vol. 2, 260–262.
91 CSA, f. 303, op. 15, a.e. 36, 1984.
92 Examples of these films include Yo-Ho-Ho (Io-Ho-Ho) (1981), Dog in a Drawer (Kuche
v tchekmedge) (1982), and Looking for a Husband for Mama (Tursi se suprug za mama) (1985).
122

command of the Eastern Front Army to Zaimov, but he refuses a decision that proves to
be his undoing. Zaimov is condemned to death and he rejects the offer made by Boris III
to plead for mercy. At the end, the tsar loses his nerve and gives the go ahead for the
execution, while the general himself commands the firing squad. 93
The film is modernist par excellence in its treatment of time. The narrative is
composed of three layers—the tsar and his life in the palace; the general and his life in
the prison; and the memories of the tsar about his conversations with the general.
Modernism, according to András Kovács, began in cinema with the idea of stream of
consciousness, which was initiated by Marcel Proust and later radicalized by James
Joyce. As Kovács continues, “the modernist perception of time differs from traditional
forms of representing past memories and imagination in that the different time layers
usually overlap and are difficult to distinguish from one another, which means that the
connections within the narrative between the layers is blurred.” 94
When watching the film, it is impossible not to notice that Radev was fascinated
and intrigued by the character of the tsar, Boris III, and depicted him in a very positive
light. In fact, during the 1960s, very little was known in Bulgaria about Boris III. 95 As
93 Tsar and General (Tsar i General), dir. Vŭlo Radev, writ. Lyuben Stanev, perf. Petar
Slabakov, Naum Shopov, Yevgeni Urbansky, and Stoyko Mazgalov, Boyana Film, 1966;
Gencheva, vol. 2, 258–259.
94 Kovács, 103.
95 Boris III of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha (1894-1943) became the Bulgarian Tsar
after the abdication of his father Ferdinand, who led Bulgaria between 1912 and 1918. His wife,
Giovanna, was the daughter of Italy’s King Victor Emmanuel III. Taking into consideration the
complex political climate when he began his to reign, he preferred in the early years to observe
rather than to participate in government. During this time, however, he built secret alliances with
military leaders. After the military coup in 1923, he again does not take sides. It is not until after
the assassination of the prime minister and member of the Agrarian Union, Alexander
Stamboliyski, that Boris III starts participating more actively in political affairs. After a second
123

Radev wrote in his diary on October 16, 1964, before the start of the shooting, he was
finally able to come closer to the former adjutant of the tsar, Liuben Stanev. After making
sure that the director had the very best intentions to portray Boris III truthfully, he agreed
on a follow-up meeting. After being invited for dinner to Stanev’s home, Radev was
finally able to pose some questions about the relationship between Stanev and the tsar.
Stanev talked with great respect about Boris III and showed the filmmakers some
photographs and gifts that he had received during his career. 96
On December 19, during the same year, Radev wrote:
When I ponder over the representation of Boris III, I think about the head
of state who wants to be understood, loved and respected by his people. The king
goes hunting with his entourage, visits weddings and baptisms, talks to peasants,
and he still feels that a thick wall exists between him and his people. I start
grasping the subtext of the script, which is about the problems of every leader. It
is a universal problem about the Vojd (Leader) who wants to be loved and be
close to his people but in most cases remains misunderstood and lonely. Yes, this
is a global problem about all leaders. 97
The complexity of the leader’s character is shown very persuasively in a room scene with
the tsar proudly showing to the general his majestic clocks, presents from European
royalty, and at the same time, trying to convince Zaimov to fight against the Russians. In
the episode called “The Palace,” Boris welcomes Zaimov. The walls of the room are
dark. The furnishings are white. Such contrast between the walls and the furniture
military coup led by republican minded military leaders, Boris engages himself in ruling the
country. In this way, Bulgaria sides with the Third Reich in the late 1930s. In 1941, Bulgaria
officially joined the Axis Powers because they were the only ones who promised to resolve the
Bulgarian national issue. For joining the alliance with Hitler, the Bulgarians receive part of
Macedonia, Thrace, and Dobrudga; however, the tsar maintains diplomatic relations with the
Soviet Union and manages to save some of the Bulgarian Jews from extermination. He died from
heart attack in 1943. Kalinova and Baeva, 397.
96 Radev, 163.
97 Ibid., 115 (author’s translation).
124

appears again later, when the director switches the scene back to the prison so that the
grayness and the simplicity of the prison are counterbalanced by the baroque splendor of
the palace. The prison and the palace are employed by the director as dual opposites.
Back in the palace, the tsar welcomes the general in a room resplendent with royal gifts.
The scene continues when Boris points to one of the clocks, adding, “this is a present
from my godfather Nicholas II.” After a short pause, he adds, “I also love the great
Russian people, Mr. Zaimov. Even the Bolshevik Revolution couldn’t kill my affection.
However, now I have to make decisions as a leader. It is not impossible that we have to
send solders to the Eastern front.” 98
The two go to the next hall. Here we see golden cabinets and marble tables, but
most prominently clocks: small and tall, wooden and metal, with silver and gold, but also
very simple. In a childish manner, Boris likes playing with them and listening to their
sounds. He goes to each clock and activates it mechanism. All clocks chime at the same
time; however, the different sounds and melodies are in harmony. The combined result of
the different sounds is calming. Apparently, in his pursuit of constant beauty, Radev has
shown that even discord can somehow sound in accord. On the other hand, the scene
demonstrates that the tsar, as the leader of a small and backward Balkan country, was
aware that he can play with his clocks but in fact he has no control over the development
of history. Boris seems to realize that the time of the monarchy has passed and he cannot
simply turn the clock back.
The scene conveys a bitter irony, in which the clocks symbolize a substitute for
the lack of the tsar’s power over the political affairs of his time; he can merely “fiddle”
98 Tsar and General (Tsar i General).
125

with time yet is unable to change the course of political events. In this scene, it is clear
that the tsar had an extremely difficult diplomatic mission. Of German-Italian descent,
Boris was a relative of Tsar Alexander II of Russia as well. He could not have easily
ignored that in an age of nationalism, the majority of Bulgarians defined themselves as
Christian Orthodox Slavs, while Russophile sentiments were widespread in the country.
Boris is portrayed as a complex individual who was torn apart by love for his people and
his duty towards the Axis powers that were promising to reward Bulgaria, as an ally, with
territory.
Another theme of the film is the tragic destiny of small nations, which remain
powerless against the historical reality in general and the Great Powers in particular. 99
Here the director admitted that the film is only superficially about the Communist
General Zaimov, but subtextually it is about the tsar. One of the most famous episodes of
the film is called “Weakness.” In this episode, Zaimov is allowed to meet in front of the
prison with his wife for the last time. Aesthetically, this is a key scene in the film. The
figures of Zaimov and his wife are shown from far away, appearing as marionettes on the
phone against the gray, imposing building of the prison. Radev wanted to emphasize the
importance of the modern intellectual confronted with reality of a controlling regime. In a
similar fashion, Visconti, filming the actors from a distance in Senso against the backdrop
of large buildings, especially in the scene of Franz and Livia’s Venice night walk,
illustrates that the protagonists and their actions are determined by external
circumstances. The distance between the camera and the actors, capturing their smallness
in relation to the large prison behind them, symbolizes Radev’s view that personal agency
99 Ibid.
126

cannot neither influence the twists of history nor the bureaucratic machine. This rather
pessimistic view de-emphasizes the potential of the hero to shape events.
Radev recalls that during the filming of the scene, the actor Peter Slabakov, who
played the general, was incapable to cry as Radev demanded. After several shots, Radev
called Slabakov and asked him, “What is going on?” The actor responded, “I just cannot
cry with this woman. I am sorry.” Radev then had an idea to shoot the scene with
Slabakov alone and then add to the scene, through montage, the wife. After drinking
three cognacs together, Radev and Slabakov shot the scene again. This time it worked.
The actor was in tears. 100
Predictably, this film received negative reviews. The critics accused Radev of
focusing more on the character of the tsar instead of on the Communist martyr, the
general, but, as previously mentioned, because the movie turned into a commercial
success, due in large part to Bulgarians’ nostalgia for the monarchy during the
Communist era, Radev was rewarded by the government with a six-month stay in Paris.
While living in a rented Paris apartment, his wife recalls receiving a huge envelope with a
letter from his highness Simeon II of Madrid, son of Tsar Boris III and living in exile in
Spain, expressing his gratitude to the filmmaker for the correct and positive
representation of his father. Radev and his wife were flattered to receive such royal
compliment but did not dare to take the letter back to Bulgaria. 101
Another interesting film made by Liubomir Sharlanchiev, who cast his wife
Nevena Kokanova as the lead actress, is Taste of Almonds (S dâh na bademi), 1967. The
100 Ibid.
101 Radeva, 97.
127

film deals with two parallel love affairs. Hairdresser Gerda is having an affair with the
much older and married Dr. Nikodimov. When he calls at her flat, she flies into a rage
and tells his wife about the affair. The doorbell rings and Nikodimov’s wife appears, but
he turns her away. The doctor goes back to Gerda and tells her that he will move in with
her for good. Heartbroken, the girl turns him out. Nikodimov goes back to the hospital,
takes out an ampoule of cyanide and drains it with a resolute gesture. 102 The movie is sad
and tragic and all protagonists are presented authentically and beautifully. It is impossible
not to compare this drama to major cinematic works of the time, especially Antonioni’s
The Adventure (L’avventura) (1960), and La Notte (1961), that dwell on themes such as
melancholy, alienation, relationships, and the impossibility of keeping up with the
unrealistic expectations of marriage. Despite its decadent message about the beauty of
death as a form of escape from reality, this film was not removed from screening.
The Year 1968
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand. 103
–Lord Byron
The year 1968 will remain in history as the year of global revolutions during
which several radical movements escalated into mass upheavals: student and workers
movements for reform and anti-war protest demonstrations in France, Italy, Hungary,
102 Taste of Almonds (S dâh na bademi), writ. Pavel Vezhinov, dir. Liubomir Sharlanchiev,
perf. Nevena Kokanova, Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Iskra Hadzhieva, and Dorotea Toncheva, Boyana
Film, 1967; Gencheva, vol. 2, 296–297.
103 Lord Byron, quoted in Eksteins, 1.
128

Czechoslovakia, Poland and the United States. As Kovács summarizes, the revolutions
converged around a few general ideologies:
(1) Differences in modern society are not between capitalism and socialism or
between political right and left, but between individual freedom and collective
repression.
(2) Institutionalized social hierarchy, cultural traditions, institutions, sexual
relations as well as the family are forms of social repression.
(3) The educational system is meant to maintain the traditional hierarchy.
(4) Self-determination must start with the liberation of desires and of the
unconscious.
(5) All kinds of mental realities are equally valid.
(6) Political actions must be guided by a sense of utopia 104
In Bulgaria, in 1968, the hopes for fair socialism were reborn again. Zhivkov,
however, was the biggest opponent of the idea of “Communism with a human face.”
After hearing about the Prague Spring, he asserted in a letter to Leonid Brezhnev that “we
need to do everything possible and even to take risks in order not to allow the contra-
revolution to take over and lose Czechoslovakia. We must be ready for a military attack.
“ 105 The dictator saw the Bulgarian involvement in Czechoslovakia as “brotherly
intervention.” 106 The members of the Politburo did not resist his position but supported
him with applause. 107 As a result of this political course, on August 21, 1968, when the
armies of the Warsaw Pact marched into Czechoslovakia, among them, and under direct
Soviet command, were 2,164 Bulgarian solders. The Bulgarians entered Czechoslovakia
104 Kovács, 351–352.
105 CSA, f. 1B., op. 58, a. e. 4, list 97, 1968.
106 CSA, f. 1B., op. 58, a. e. 84, list 28, 1968.
107 Ibid.
129

from the Soviet border where they were initially sent for training. 108 Predictably,
censorship intensified due to the paranoia among leading Party members. Besides stricter
censorship of films, many writers were sanctioned and their works were removed from
bookstores. Among the most prominent were Radoi Ralin, Boris Dimovski, Valeri
Petrov, Yordan Radichkov, Nikola Russev and Guergui Markov. 109
As already mentioned, Bulgarian star film director Vŭlo Radev and his wife
Jennie (Zheni) Radeva were in Paris in 1968. Radeva describes the event in Paris in 1968
as follows:
Suddenly, there were strikes and protests everywhere in the city. We saw
barricades and heard shots. People were giving speeches at the university
campuses, on the streets, in the theaters. We saw flags of the Red Cross indicating
where the wounded could get help. Some citizens voluntarily waited for hours to
donate blood. It was like a revolution! 110
In this atmosphere of anticipation and yearning for freedom, film director
Gueorgui Stoyanov, son of a famous sergeant, made his debut. 111 He was able to finance
108 Kalinova and Baeva, 178.
109 Ibid., 165.
110 Radeva, 37 (author’s translation)
111 Gueorgui Stoyanov (born 1939 in Moscow). One of the few Bulgarian directors who
studied abroad in the West, Stoyanov completed his studies at IDHEC in Paris in 1964 after
graduating at home in mechanical engineering in 1959. His first films were documentaries and
short features (Siesta (1965)), and he worked as an assistant director for Vulchanov and Jankov
before making his first feature-length film, The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve) (1968), the
title derived from one film novella in a three-part production (the other two were Musicians
(Musikanti) and Guests (Gosti)). Stoyanov’s style in the film-grotesque set him aside from
directors of the older and younger generations, further he was to change his style with each film
he made. Birds and Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki) (1965) is a lyric metaphor on the resistance
movement; the script was written by a former resistance fighter, Vasil Aikov, who also
collaborated with Stoyanov on Panteley (1978), the story of an unwilling freedom fighter in the
war years. The Third Planet in the Solar System (Treta sled slantzeto) (1972) was Bulgaria’s first
attempt at a science fiction film, a failure that commands respect in view of the limited studio
facilities for such a genre. Stoyanov collaborated with screenplay writer Nikola Russev in three
130

his studies in France by himself, through the help of his father, his relatives in France,
and by taking random jobs. During an interview, he shared that he lived in such poverty
in Paris that at times he had to survive on one egg per day. 112 Stoyanov, also a former
engineer, returned from Paris in 1963 where, despite financial hardships, he succeeded in
receiving a degree in directing. After his return to Bulgaria, Stoyanov pushed Bulgarian
film in a new direction, reintroducing the tragic-comical, the grotesque, the farce, and the
absurd, this time placing them entirely within a military context. The genre of military
grotesque had, until then, mostly been employed by Czechoslovakian filmmakers. 113
As Miloš Forman explained in an interview:
The tradition of the Czech culture is always humor based on serious
things, like the good soldier Svejk. Kafka is a humorous author, but a bitter
humorist. It is in the Czech people. You know, to laugh at its own tragedy has
been in this century the only way for such a little nation placed in such a
dangerous spot in Europe to survive. So, humor was always the source of certain
self-defense. If you don’t know how to laugh, the only solution is to commit
suicide. 114
Federico Fellini wrote something similar: “Nothing is sadder than laughter.” 115
Laughter in the cinema of Communist countries was deployed as a disguised
manifestation of bitterness and sadness, but it was also a powerful subversive code,
which multiple humorous nuances Stoyanov masterfully employed in his works. His
features: Houses without Fences (Kashti bez ogradi) (1974), A Cricket in the Ear (Shturetz v
uhoto) (1976), and Constantine the Philosopher (Konstantin Philosoph). (1983), the last a
superspectacle for the 1,300 th anniversary, on St. Cyril. Stoyanov is the artistic manager of the
“Sredets” (the Slav name for today’s Sofia) production unit at the Boyana Studios, and in 1982 he
was elected president of the Union of Bulgarian Film Makers. Holloway, 71–72.
112 Gueorgui Stoyanov, interview with author, 12 Aug., 2007.
113 Iordanova, 7–16.
114 Miloš Forman, quoted in Kovács, 326.
115 Fellini, 54.
131

official debut, The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve) appeared in 1968. The film is
based on three antiwar grotesque novellas whose action takes place during the two World
Wars. The novels are united by a common theme—a protest against violence and
militarism expressed through absurd humor.
The first part of the film, “Musicians” (Musikanti), starts against the tragic
background of the First World War, showing the return of the wounded soldiers and the
funerals of the dead. Training of young musicians in the brass band begins with funeral
marches, yet before they have time to learn to feel the beauty and greatness of Chopin’s
music they must play at funerals.
Part two, “Painlevé,” is the name for the favorite pet rooster of an active duty
major in World War II. When it dies, his grief for his dead pet and its ceremonial burial
stand in sharp contrast to his brutality toward his starving soldiers, whom he humiliates at
every turn. In revenge, the soldiers exhume and eat Painlevé. Part three, “Guests”
(Gosti), reveals with merciless sarcasm the fate of the same major who becomes a reserve
colonel after the war. He remains cruel, preferring to stay alone rather than to help
anyone, even a war widow. 116
Neda Stanimirova commented in 1984 that “this film was incomparable to any
film made before and after that.” 117 The subject and the historical setting had never been
tackled by Bulgarian filmmakers in such fashion. Looking at the film from a broader
perspective, it also represented the disgust of the 1960s generation with any form of
116 The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve), writ. Svoboda Bachvarova and Evgeni
Konstantinov, dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov, perf. Naum Shopov, Konstantin Kotsev, Stoyan Gudev,
and Emilia Radeva, Boyana Film, 1968; Gencheva, vol. 2, 312–313.
117 CSA, f. 303, op. 15, a. e. 506, list 50, 1984.
132

violence and militaristic values. Stoyanov points out that the film was made before the
events in Czechoslovakia but that he was inspired, generally, by the spirit of the 1960s. 118
Behind the comic plot, the subtext is tragic, suggesting the contempt of the filmmaker for
any form of abuse of human dignity. All protagonists are portrayed as willing participants
in a pitiful farce. Irony and humor become the only secret weapons of the solders against
their constant mistreatment by their officers. The subtext of the film is a critique on those
in power who always seem to abuse it. Despite the fact that in Bulgaria very little was
known about the theater of the absurd, which was popular in the West, Stoyanov, as a
Francophile, was very familiar with its existence. Among his favorite works were
writings by the French existentialist philosophers Camus and Sartre, famous for devoting
many pages to the “absurd.” 119
Back in 1969, Stoyanov pointed out in an interview with the critic Znepolski that
he felt intimately involved with the type of “delicate humor” that has the ability to help
preserve the most valuable potentials in every human being. 120 His films succeeded in
being spectacles, not merely philosophical meditations. In one of the scenes, for example,
an orchestra performs a Chopin funeral march in an empty school-turned –military
hospital, with a background of people dragging carriages filled with wounded soldiers.
This scene spurred contemplation and highlighted the absurdity of war. In another scene,
118 Gueorgui Stoyanov, interview with author, 12 Aug., 2007.
119 Ibid. During the 1980s, Stoyanov made a career as a director of the Union of Film
Makers, but his most productive years as an artist remained behind him. He was one of the few
who succeeded in never openly being questioned by Party officials and censors. The way he was
silenced was by his promotion to a high executive position which left him very little time for his
passion, filmmaking.
120 Filmovi Novini (Film News), no. 6 (1969): 5.
133

a herd of cows peacefully returning to their farm pass by army tanks on the street of a
pristine and picturesque village. According to Stanimirova, in this film the beauty and
innocence of a remote Balkan village merge with the horror of death. 121 According to
Linda Hutcheson, “Parody presupposes both law and its transgression.” 122 It is a
“repetition with difference,” which subverts another text formally in order to make a
remark on the narrative structuring that determines the comprehension and textualization
of any action or event (past or present). 123
In his next film, Birds and Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki) from 1968–1969, made
immediately after The Painlevé Case, Stoyanov further confronted the different forms of
abuse and violence and the psychological deformities they created. The film starts with
an exploration of a sleepy, provincial town during 1945, with its calm streets, artless shop
signs and advertisements, the inevitable brass band, the shadowy coffee houses, and the
torture chamber at the police station, which reminds the viewer that serenity and
benevolence are only superficial. A company of high school students have gathered,
playing games, reciting poetry, and singing “The Internationale.” Their mentor, Nikifor,
has had experience with the underground movement. Suddenly, Germans arrive and the
game turns into a perilous, illegal activity. Nikifor is killed in a shoot out. The rest of the
boys are detained and tortured in a dark room for days but reveal nothing. An inept
121 Neda Stanimirova in CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 206, list 57, 1984.
122 Linda Hutcheson quoted in Toke, 101.
123 Ibid., 3.
134

prosecutor seals their fate when he asks for the death sentence. The town will forever
remember the boys, always young and smiling. 124
The film was called Birds and Greyhounds because the Germans in the movie
frequently walk three elegant and lithe greyhounds, and free-flying birds appear
constantly as a leitmotiv. In an interview, Stoyanov tells a long story of how he had to
fight with the Party leaders to find greyhounds, which were not available in Bulgaria. The
Party instead suggested casting German shepherds, which was unthinkable for the
filmmaker because the German shepherd would drastically disrupt the delicate symbolic
balance between the gentle and beautiful but merciless hunter, the greyhound, and the
birds. Stoyanov’s insistence on using greyhounds won out, and the Bulgarian
Cinematography had to arrange the transportation of three greyhounds from
Czechoslovakia. While the symbolism of the bird and its association with freedom is
obvious, why did the director and the scriptwriter decide to use such gentle creatures as
greyhounds as the embodiment of the dark and the evil? Stoyanov answers that he was
consciously aware of this paradox and chose the greyhound in order to portray the
complexity of the dark, the destructive, and the violent. In his words, “Violence could be
not just ugly but also beautiful. Things are not simply black and white.” 125 Does this
statement, to some extent, explain the strange and perverted love affair of the decadently-
minded Bulgarian intelligentsia with silence and death? By looking into the history of
124 Birds and Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki), writ. Vasil Akiov, dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov, perf.
Stefan Mavrodiyev, Maya Dragomanska, Kiril Gospodinov, and Kosta Karageorgiev, Boyana
Film, 1969; Gencheva, vol. 2, 339–340.
125 Gueorgui Stoyanov, interview with author, 12 Aug., 2007.
135

Western culture, we see that the fascination with death and darkness were among the
major themes in intellectual thought starting as early as the Romantic Movement. 126
Born in the Soviet Union, Stoyanov had witnessed his father’s banishment to a
Stalinist labor camp and became preoccupied with the idea of the violent, which was
regarded by Bulgarian critics at the time as an exclusively Western theme. 127 In another
interview, Stoyanov explains:
The psychic deformation that occurs by an abusive regime changes the
consciousness of the people. I believe that the violence will disappear in the
future; however, it can continue to live within the human psyche and spread as a
metastasis. It will take a long time to cure it. Violence is cancer which attacks the
human consciousness. Physically, it is clear that a person can be killed just once,
but psychically, on an everyday basis, the defeats can be thousands…millions. In
this context a human life can be marked by a scar of the violent which manifests
itself as a form of thinking. The cruelty and the psychological abuse will continue
to exist a long time after the antagonist conflict disappears. 128
The film director is trying to convey that cruelty, violence, and abuse cannot be
justified as the means to any end, even if the end is the Marxist utopian vision of heaven
on earth. He also implies that a victim of abuse is sometimes prone to become an abuser.
Birds and Greyhounds is a distorted mirror to war films, hence also a distortion of the
realities of war; war films routinely exaggerate war’s heroic moments, suggesting that
there are clearly distinguishable good and bad participants, that the good always wins and
the bad is always punished. In this film, war does not end with anyone’s victory. After
126 As evidenced in the works of the works of the German philosophers Nietzsche and
Schopenhauer, the writer Thomas Mann, who, in Death in Venice declared that “the will to live is
the will to die,” as well as Igor Stravinsky, whose ballet “Rites of Spring,” written on the eve of
World War I, was originally titled “The Victim.”
18.
127 Ivailo Znepolski, Aktualnoto Kino (Actual Cinema) (Sofia: Nauka i Izkustvo, 1969), 16–
128 Ibid.
136

the main battle, the two “cohorts” unite for a common objective (of hunting), but in the
end both of them are defeated by the police’s intervention. Good and bad, winner and
loser, brave and coward are inseparable, and the film manages to cut through very
important and often power-related dichotomies and to criticize the biased tropes of
traditional cinematic representations of war.
The press first celebrated Stoyanov’s sarcasm in 1984, comparing his films to the
Latin American black comedies that criticized the military dictatorships in that part of the
world. 129 The critics in the 1960s were not at all excited about his works. Vera
Naidenova called him “pretentious and too obsessed with the aesthetic effect of his films
without paying enough attention to the content.” 130 In the chapter “Against the Power of
the Absurd” (Sresty Silata na Absurda) from his book Road and Paths of the Bulgarian
Cinema (Patisha i Itateki na Bulgarskato Kino), the established film critic Ivailo
Znepolski wrote that he was quite surprised and disappointed with the choices that
Stoyanov made for his debut and about the director’s motivation. Further, he stated that
he did not understand why a young man should be so interested in the past and so
preoccupied with military anecdotes. 131
Znepolski calls Stoyanov a surrealist and somebody who, by exposing the violent
and the ugly had, consciously or not, elevated it to a cult. A viewer might conclude that
Stoyanov’s works are retrograde and penetrated by bourgeois decadence and by a love
129 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 206, list 57, 1984.
130 Grozev, 205.
131 Ivailo Znepolski, “Sresty Silata na Absurda” (Against the Power of the Absurd), Patisha i
Itateki na Bulgarskoto Kino (Road and Paths of the Bulgarian Cinema) (Sofia: Nauka i Izkustvo,
1972), 131.
137

affair with violence, which Znepolski thinks is one of the most popular themes of the
Western cinema. 132 In the end of his chapter, the critic concludes by writing about Birds
and Greyhounds. “This is a film resembling the cruel fairytales of A Thousand and One
Nights.” 133
Ironically, the strongest Western influences that shaped the Bulgarian film culture
and motivated its filmmakers were openly acknowledged and even first praised by the
critics in the last decade of the Cold War, when the demise of Communism was obvious.
134 This fact demonstrates that the film critics themselves were lovers of Western culture,
but could only acknowledge their admiration during the age of perestroika.
Made in 1968, Swedish Kings (Shvedskite krale) is a social comedy that explores
with good-natured and delicate irony the everyday life and daydreams of the members of
a construction team. Spas is a construction worker. He takes time off from work,
deciding to go to a posh seaside hotel and spend some time “like a Swedish king,” where
the loud and motley crowd at the resort gives him a cool reception. Finding himself in a
ridiculous situation, he gradually comes to realize that what had appeared to him as
glamorous and attractive was just a façade, and that he can get genuine joy and
satisfaction only among his friends in the construction team, who are waiting for him to
return. 135 In fact, the film’s story is very personal: it reflects the alienation that the
132 Ibid.
133 Ibid.
134 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 206, list 57, 1984.
135 Swedish Kings (Shvedskite krale), writ. Nikolai Nikiforov, dir. Liudmir Kirkov, perf.
Tzvetana Maneva, Asen Georgiev, Yevstati Stratev, and Hindo Kasimov, Boyana Film, 1968;
Gencheva, vol. 2, 304–305.
138

director, whose two previous films had been rejected, felt as a member of the cinematic
community. 136 In a broader sense, it illustrates the intellectual’s confusion about a world
driven by vanity and obsessed with displays of power.
The courage to preserve one’s integrity in trying times is the subject of the
psychological drama The Prosecutor (Prokurorât), released in 1968. The film is set in
1952. A warrant for the arrest of the Communist Pavel Pavlov has been issued. The
examining magistrate goes to the prosecutor, Miladin Voinov, to get his signature for
formal approval of the arrest. But this time it’s personal: Pavlov and Voinov have been
friends since childhood and served together in a partisan brigade. Miladin hesitates but
signs the document anyway, imagining different situations all the while trying to avoid
involvement in the case. After the sequences of imagination, the prosecutor takes out the
rubber stamp to seal the warrant, but at the last moment changes his mind and tears up the
document. 137 The plot of the film takes place arbitrarily in 1952, but actually the film
sharply criticizes the policies of the Communist regime in the late 1960s. It exposes the
suspicion and jealousy prevalent in the inner circles of the establishment and the
widespread tendency among the upper echelons of vilification of their colleagues and the
practice of labeling innocent people as “enemies of the state.” Paradoxically, the play on
which the film is based continued to be performed in various theaters of the country. But,
the film was immediately stopped from screening.
136 Grozev, 178.
137 The Prosecutor (Prokurorât), writ. Georgi Dzhagarov and Budimir Metalnikov, dir.
Lyubomir Sharlandzhiev, perf. Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Yordan Matev, Olga Kircheva, and Stefan
Pejchev, Boyana Film, 1968; Gencheva, vol. 2, 325–327.
139

Also suppressed by the Party, Whale (Kit), was intended as a satire of the day.
While the film was in its early production stages, the first letter from the Committee of
Science and Culture reached the Department of Cinematography on November 10, 1967,
stating that the director needed to make substantial changes without which the film could
not be distributed. The letter had no signature.
Here an excerpt of the document which serves to familiarize the reader with the
process of suppressing films. This letter declares:
1. The scene with the mother is to be shortened
2. The mooing of the cows and the bleating of the sheep to be removed
3. The vulgar scene in the office of the director is to be removed.
4. The tasteless display of woman’s carnality is to be removed
5. The sarcastic singing of the national anthem is to be removed
6. The line pronounced by the director, “I demolish the imperialism” is to be
removed
7. The role of the Komsomol secretary is to be drastically reduced.
8. The final speech of Paroushev is to be edited. 138
In December of the same year, another letter arrived with recommendation for
more changes. Finally, the Party decided that the suggested changes were insufficient and
the film in its entirety was declared unacceptable and, therefore, could not be released.
For several years, the film was banned, and when it finally appeared, even significantly
shortened by the censors, it retained its actuality and sharpness.
. The film ridicules some people’s tendency to exaggerate their insignificant
achievements for personal gain. The fishing boat Odysseus is returning to port. It is
bringing back only one anchovy, but the captain sends a message ashore saying they have
caught some 300 kilograms of mackerel. Zankov, the captain’s immediate superior, tells
138 Whale (Kit), writ. Cheremuhin, dir. Petar B. Vasilev, perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Dimitar
Panov, Georgi Partsalev, and Tzvyatko Nikolov, Boyana Film, 1969. In the 2007 DVD release of
Whale, the viewer can read the letters prior to the start of the film (author’s translation).
140

his boss Petrov that the catch amounts to several tons of mackerel. Petrov informs the
director of the cannery that the boat’s nets are full of belted bonito, although it is not
bonito season. The director and the chief engineer, for their part, decide to report that the
bonitos are as big as dolphins, and since the dolphins are very large that year, in fact as
big as whales, it would be best to say that a whale has been caught. They send a telegram
to this effect, which causes quite a stir at the editorial office of the Fish Call (Ribarske
Zov) newspaper.
At the beginning, the head of the Fishing Industry Department, Paroushev, cannot
believe the news but then realizes its immense publicity potential. He decides to institute
a whaling festival and suggests that the department should become a Ministry of
Whaling. The prominent ichthyologist, professor Bostandjiyski denounces the story of
the whale, emphasizing that the Black Sea never had whales, yet in spite of that
denouncement, Paroushev gives a television interview in which he breaks the big news.
While preparations are being made to meet the fishing boat with suitable pomp and
circumstance, the chain of lies begins to break apart. Various proposals are considered to
deal with the predicament: to purchase and import a whale from abroad, to sink Odysseus
or simply to change its name and announce that it has sunk. Finally, it is decided to give
the crew a hero’s welcome and the fishermen are totally bewildered. Paroushev delivers a
passionate oration by imitating Adolf Hitler. The film concludes when the head of the
imaginary whale appears and swallows him, and the sea becomes calm again. 139
This film is highly grotesque, and the actors’ tendentious unattractiveness exposes
Communism’s hypocrisy and lack of appeal. Several scenes depict heavy drinking among
139 Whale (Kit); Gencheva, vol. 2, 390–392.
141

high officials in the fishing industry, their promiscuous behavior with secretaries, and the
prevalent cynicism in society about Communism. It appears in the film that the
protagonists are less afraid of the consequences of their behavior because they hope that
they live in the final stage of collapse of the Communist system. The film is marked by
raw physicality and disparagement. Everybody smokes and drinks during the workday;
women are depicted explicitly as unattractive sex objects who, at the same time, do not
function as objects of the male gaze. In the film, one of the protagonists, played by the
actor Georgi Parzalev, who was clandestinely gay, as this was socially unacceptable
under Communism, even dared to playfully gaze at males. In one of the scenes he
exchanges clothes with a young marine. The episode implies carnal relations between the
two men. The film’s orgy of repulsiveness, lies, liquor, and sex appear cheerless because,
apparently, the authors realized that perhaps this is not the end of Communism and that
their exposal of the powerful of the day will have consequences. The surprising whale in
the film functions as a phallic signifier, a symbol of power that remains a phantasm.
Larger Patterns and Trends
The Relation to History
In previous sections, research has demonstrated that the relationship between film
making and history was complex. Cineastes often used the past as a disguise for stories of
a very contemporary nature, knowing that films with contemporary plots were more
likely to be censored and even banned from screening. Historical films about the
Resistance Movement, as well, tended to be meticulously inspected by the censors who
wanted to make sure that the representation of the partisan was politically correct.
142

Filmmakers felt comfortable to some degree in representing scenes from the two
World Wars, because they could freely display their disgust for any form of militarism
and because, by unmasking the brutality of the Bulgarian government before 1944, they
could incite the viewer instinctively to draw parallels to the current state of affairs. The
creation of epics, depicting the triumphs and failures of Bulgarian tsars from the distant
past were, at this point, not of great interest to the industry. This would change
dramatically during the 1970s and 1980s when the Party would start investing large
amounts of money for the productions of grandiose historical epics. The manufacturing
of colossal films was intended to reassure the nation of its grandeur, and to attract crowds
to theaters, thereby diminishing existing budget deficits. 140
In general, the Bulgarians were not obsessed with their history. As subjects of the
Ottoman Empire for 500 years, in some sense they felt like people without history. As
Violina Atanasova comments:
…there is a painful absence in the Bulgarian intellectual thought of the
dialogue between Own and Other and Own and Own, between Here and There
and Now and Then, which hinders a self-reflection and the knowledge of the
Other and contributes to stasis and closed mindedness in the Bulgarian
perception of the world. 141
This worldview, in the opinion of the Party, in which the Other equaled the universal,
needed to be transcended. Political leaders were confident, especially during the 1970s,
140 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 206, list 60, 1984.
141 Violina Atanasova, “Kulturniyat Model na Lyudmila Zhivkova v Bulgarskoto Kulturno
Samoopredelenie mezhdu Iztoka i Zapada” (Lyudmila Zhivkova’s Cultural Model in the Context
of Bulgarian Self-Determination between East and West), in Problemat Iztok – Zapad:
Prevuplushcheniya v Novo i Nai-novo Vreme (East – West Issues: Modern and Contemporary
History Transformations), comps. Tamara Stoilova et al. (Sofia: Academic Publishing House
Marin Drinov, 2005), 303.
143

that by the development of national consciousness, Bulgarians would be able to self-
identify and recognize their role as bridge between the East and the West. 142
The preoccupation with history, as a part of the effort by the Party to cement its
hold, started much later than in other countries of the Eastern Bloc. In her book Cinema
of the Other Europe, Dina Iordanova highlights the fixation on history, especially among
the Central Eastern European film industries. In fact, historical topics were the center of
interest for filmmakers across East Central Europe, particularly prominent in the period
of state socialism. As in other regions, films with such themes visualized the historical
narratives governing the respective nation’s and government’s imaginations and
consolidated the “imagined community.” 143 Historical films played one more function
here – to provide a forum for discourse on universal moral concepts. In this regard, many
of the films that can be classified as historical can also be successfully described as
existential. 144 In other words, the filmmakers in the Eastern Bloc were content in creating
films about the distant past because the plots provided them with a safe arena for
expressing their views.
Despite their universal appeal, these works failed to attract interest because of
their stylistic limitations and the pressure posed by the regime. In Bulgaria, historical
films until the late 1960s were made with very limited resources, did not deal with the
remote past, fell entirely into the category “historic-existential,” and did not draw mass
142 Ibid., 304–305.
143 Iordanova, 47.
144 Ibid.
144

attention. This was about to change in the 1970s, since, especially in this decade, the
importance of film as an art form started to decline worldwide 145 .
During the 1940s and 1950s, Bulgarian filmmakers had to struggle with the moral
dilemma posed by totalitarianism. From the 1960s onward, after abolition of the Stalinist
cult, the cineastes were able to express themselves more openly. Even if history
continued to be an important theme in Bulgarian film, the focus shifted from an effort to
graphically depict or politicize the past for the needs of the regime to using the past as an
arena in which the major protagonist was the film director (the auteur). In this regard,
Bulgarian film reflected an important change that occurred in the Western cinema during
the 1960s: movies began to confess that they were constructing the story – that the
narrative did not exist outside the narration. 146 Because of their participation in the
Holocaust, among other events, Central and West European cinemas had to deal in a
more intense way with the burden of the past. 147 We will revisit the subject of history
and filmmaking in the next chapters, when we examine the films produced during the
1970s and the 1980.
The 1960s were not especially technically innovative, since nothing could be
compared to the advent of sound (1923) or color (1918) in commercial cinema. Another
feature that all European cinemas shared in common was the love / hate relationship to
Hollywood. While Western filmmakers borrowed many of the major popular Hollywood
145 Sorlin, 194–195.
146 Ibid., 139.
147 Ibid., 58.
145

themes, such as the gangster movies or the femme fatale image, the idea that America
was a dangerous, imperialist country was shared across the East-West divide. 148
The beginning of the 1960s was filled with anticipation for change. Soon, it
became clear that even if the darkest period of Communism was over, the Cold War
continued and with it the constant cat-and-mouse game between censors and artists. To
make the situation even more morally damaging and challenging, because Party
administrators lacked the sophistication to catch the latent subversive techniques of the
intelligentsia, censors were often chosen from the ranks of the most creative and
freedom-loving filmmakers and film critics. 149 For instance, a list of officially prohibited
films included only those that dealt with contemporary problems such as Life Flows
Slowly By, Monday Morning, and Whale. Other films that engaged with the past officially
while allegorically critiquing the present were not prohibited from screening. Here again
the interpretation of the film critics was crucial. While they harmed the films by attacking
them for lacking ideology and being detached from the present in a bourgeois way, the
critics, who themselves seemed especially fascinated by the works of Italian and French
filmmakers, never exposed a film as a revolt against the present order or intentionally
detected a love affair with the West in historical films.
Intercultural Encounters and the Bulgarian Film
Before assessing the French and Italian influences on Bulgarian film, it is
important to emphasize again the close relationship between Bulgarian and Soviet
148 Sorlin, 140–145.
149
For example each film had to be approved by a council comprised of prominent
filmmakers and film critics.
146

cinema. During the 1950s, Soviet films comprised 87.2% of the entire repertoire of the
Bulgarian movie theaters. Despite the exceptional quality of some of those films, they
were and are still not popular among the Bulgarian public. 150 The connection between
Bulgarian and Soviet films is superfluous and comparison between Soviet and Bulgarian
oeuvres is inadequate since the cultures, despite some obvious similarities, are quite
diverse.
Not surprisingly, Bulgarian filmmakers were strongly influenced by the French
and especially the Italian cinematic traditions, which were the most influential on the
continent after the war. During the 1960s, Bulgaria had active diplomatic relations with
France. 151 Two prominent filmmakers received their education in France. 152 Since many
Bulgarian directors, such as Zhelyazkova, Radev, and Stoyanov were sent to Paris, the
filmmakers, similar to their French counterparts, were convinced that the camera needs to
have absolute freedom in order to create an illusion of direct screening, as opposed to
shooting done in studios. They also used collages and jump cuts. All followers of the
French New Wave were elitists in that they had little interest in attracting large audiences
to their films. 153 However, the Bulgarian cineastes and the larger public never became
deeply acquainted with the French cinema in general and its most prominent
manifestation, the French New Wave in particular. The French new wave in Bulgaria
150 Janakiev, 226.
151 Kalinova and Baeva, 193.
152 Gueorgui Stoyanov received a degree in directing in Paris in 1963. Plamen Maslarov
also received his degree in directing in France during the late 1960s; Entziklopediya Bulgarsko
Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Stoyanov, Guergui” and “Maslarov, Plamen.”
153 Sorlin, 144.
147

was represented with just one oeuvre: The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coup) (1959) by
François Truffaut, which was shown in the theaters in 1961 with the modified name
Nobody Loves Me (Nikoi ne me obicha). The works of some of the most representative
auteurs of the French New Wave such as Jean-Luc Godard, Claude Chabrol, Alain
Resnais, and Agnès Varda never appeared on the Bulgarian movie screen during the Cold
War era. The French films which were imported were numerous but they belonged
mostly to the genres of comedy and crime thrillers. Some of the most popular were the
films featuring Louis de Funès, Fernandel and Jacques Tati, and dramas such as Anatomy
of a Marriage (La vie conjugale) (1963) by André Cayatte, shown in 1966, and A Man
and a Woman (Une homme and une femme) (1966) by Claude Lelouch, shown in 1967,
among others. 154
The Bulgarian public was unfamiliar with the essence of French cinema and some
of the most revolutionary innovations in writing about film and film perception that were
reflected in the French film journal Cahiers du cinéma. 155 The revival of interest towards
the Russian avant-garde from the 1920s and Eisenstein and the innovative applications of
psychoanalysis or “Lacanian mode” into film criticism in the West remained alien to the
Bulgarian critics. As already noted, despite the many ways all European cineastes loved
Hollywood, they were similarly deeply convinced that films should educate and engage
the spectator on a much higher level than the consumerist-culture oriented Hollywood
cinema. 156
154 Janakiev, 237.
155 Emilie Bickerton, A Short History of Cahiers du Cinéma (London: Verso, 2009).
148

Unlike their satellite Middle European neighbors, who because of their intense
participation in the Holocaust had an historically different burden to bear, the
independent Balkans, newly emerging from Ottoman domination, had much more in
common, with respect to identity and cultural designation, with the rough, pastoral and
idyllic moods of Italian filmmakers. The Bulgarian nation had formed as an independent
state in a similar way to Italy in the late nineteenth century. The landscape and
mentalities were also very similar. In fact, the Bulgarian public was very familiar with
Italian films. 157
The period between 1958 and 1968 was a decisive decade for the Italian cinema
and could be called a “Golden Age.” 158 The connection between Bulgaria and Italy was
strong. In the 1950s and 1960s, the two countries were economic partners. Between 1956
and 1959, Bulgarian exports to Italy increased six fold. In 1958, Bulgaria exported goods
to Italy valued at $9 million US. The amount grew to $16 million in 1960 and $33 million
in 1962. 159
156 Ibid., 140–145. Pierre Sorlin points out that the European directors visible during the
1960 had some common characteristics. They came from well-off families, usually had a
prestigious degree from places such as Oxford and considered their films as critical works.
157 Janakiev, 244; The following lists some of the notable Italian films, their director, year of
release, and parenthetically, their year of release on Bulgarian screens: Nights of Cabiria (Le notti
di Cabiria), Fellini, 1956 (1961); La Strada, Fellini, 1954 (1961); Two Women (La ciociara), de
Sica, 1960 (1962); Rocco and His Brothers (Rocco e i suoi fratelli), Visconti, 1960 (1963);
Divorce – Italian Style (Divorzio all’ italiana), Germi, 1961 (1963); Salvatore Giuliano, Rosi,
1961 (1964); The Leopard (Il gattoparo), Visconti, 1963 (1966); and Bebo’s Girl (La ragazza de
Bube), Kamincini, 1963 (1966).
158 During the period, annual film production increased dramatically: 141(1958), 164,
(1959), 160 (1960), 205, (1961), 245, (1962), 230 (1963), 290 (1964), 203, (1965), 232, (1966),
247, (1967), and 246 (1968); Peter Bondanella, Italian Cinema: From Neorealism to the Present,
3rd ed., (New York: Continuum, 2003), 142.
159 Kalinova and Baeva, 191.
149

In 1963, the two countries signed a two-year agreement for cultural and scientific
collaboration, with the most active cultural exchange in the realm of music. The opera
company of Sofia regularly performed in Naples, and the famous opera bass Boris
Christov lived in Italy. Italy, during that period, was the only Western country to show a
genuine interest in Bulgarian literature. Between 1960 and 1965, ten books written by
Bulgarian authors appeared in Italian bookstores. 160
Despite the obvious connection between the two countries, the film critics first
admitted in the 1980s that Italian neorealism was the most important influence on
Bulgarian film. 161 The connection was already obvious in the content of the films alone.
Many Bulgarian movies made during the late 1960s and 1970s, especially, explored
themes of ordinary life: rough men fishing in a small boat in the open sea, peasant
women sweating while baking bread, village wedding celebrations, long funeral
processions, sleepy pristine villages, herds of cows and flocks of sheep wandering
without direction through the streets of small towns, roving donkeys, scenes in local
taverns in which rural folk discuss the news of the day, long clotheslines in front of
windows of crowded neighborhoods, children playing in streets, old women in black
gossiping before urban buildings, and the beloved representation of the poor outskirts of
cities with their colorful inhabitants. Such representations were similar to those western
representations of European suburbs as a new Third World, especially during the 1950s.
160 Ibid.
161 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 206, list 61, 1984.
150

The filmic version of the poorest neighborhoods developed in Bulgaria especially in the
1960’s and 1970s. 162
The demise of the city played an important role in the films of the West. Good
examples are Antonioni’s film The Adventure (L’avventura) (1960) in which he focuses
on the love affairs and feelings of the protagonist, but at the same time explores with a
great delight the streets and different buildings. 163
Even if Bulgarian critics were quite familiar with Italian cinema, 164 it was not
until the 1980s that they dared to freely write about Italian neorealism in a more sincere
and positive way, describing its true nature as a reaction against consumerism and social
injustice in Western society, as a revolt against the manufacturing of illusions, and as a
striving for authenticity and a more in depth understanding of life and its essence. 165
Anti-Heroes and Death
Another sign of change in films after 1956 is that they began being filled with
“accidents.” For example, an unintentional kick of an old piece of metal resulted in
tripping on a string, which ultimately resulted in the death of two of the protagonists. 166 If
Bulgarian films prior to 1956 aimed to show the heroic in general, the films after 1956
reflected on the heroic as a philosophy, trying to find the mechanism at work behind it.
Protagonists were no longer portrayed as muscular supermen but rather as misfits, rebels,
162 Ibid.
163 Sorlin, 130.
164 A good example is the book by Ivailo Znepolski, Aktualno Kino (Actual Cinema),
published in 1969.
165 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 206, list 71, 1984.
166 On a Small Island (Na malkiya ostrov).
151

and idealists. Vulchanov, for example, in his film On a Small Island highlighted the
anxiety, doubt, naiveté, immaturity, and clumsiness of the student and the idealism,
wisdom, and patience of the main protagonist, the doctor who succeeded in leading the
prisoners to escape. 167
In the new cinematic era, the central character was a hero but in a tortured and
insulted Christ-like fashion. The directors began more openly using poetics in Western
style and rejected a portrayal of the protagonist as a macho who never makes mistakes.
Death, another major theme in Bulgarian cinema, was no longer represented as heroic.
The modern hero was a victim of the environment—another code with which the artists
wanted to unmask the present. Prior to 1956, the protagonist usually died with a song or
wind would be blowing in his hair, but after that, death became absurd, nonsensical, and
devoid of pathos. For this reason, many of the new works were sharply criticized for
lacking opulence and epic appeal. The critics suspected that the socialist-realist
Übermensch was being ridiculed and degraded. 168
A review of the film On a Small Island, published in the newspaper Popular
Culture (Narodna Kultura) on May 10, 1958, criticized the filmmakers for creating
“protagonists [that] were rather a group of vagabonds and not people led by great
ideas…” The critic continued, “We are annoyed by the array of accidents in the plot. The
characters appear apolitical, without past, disconnected from the historic reality.” 169
167 Ibid.
168 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 206, list 11, 1984.
169 Ibid.
152

Because some of the films during the late 1950s and 1960s dealt with the recent
past, they became easy prey for superficial censors, who had an easier time proving that a
representation of a Communist or a Communist reality was wrong rather than looking for
codes between the lines buried in subjects that had little to do with Communism.
In the late 1950s, filmmakers started to humanize their heretofore static and one-
dimensional protagonists by choosing ethical or philosophical themes against the
background of pastoral and idyllic Balkan villages. However, as already mentioned,
contemporary film critics and censors alike either described the content of such films as
preoccupied with the ordinary or attacked the films for lacking an epical motive or large
historical and ideologically-driven thematic approach. Here again, the critic concluded
confidently that Bulgarian directors were under the demoralizing influence of Italian
neorealism. 170
Acting as a Solution
In the 1960s, primarily due to the inroads of television, which displaced the
cinema as the most popular media, directors tried to combine psychological introspection
with spectacle, in which acting was extremely important, because actors were no longer
mimicking natural forces and serving as raw material for the director and his vision. In
Italy, good examples of this approach include many works of Pasolini, who pointed out
honestly in an interview that he had an ideological aesthetic preference for non-
professionals instead of real actors, because a professional actor is another consciousness
that must be added to his own. The nonprofessional actors are, in the director’s words,
170 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 506, list 23, 1984.
153

“shreds of reality as is a landscape, a sky, the sun, a donkey passing along the road.” This
is what Pasolini called a “magmatic style.” 171 In other words, he needed to reduce
everything to a hot fluid in order to reshape it according to his own vision and preference.
He continued, “they’re all elements, [the non professional actors], which I manipulate
and turn into whatever I want.” 172 However, Pasolini admits that sometimes he had
difficulty to treat an actor as raw elements of nature: “It was absurd and inhuman on my
part to think that I could have taken [Anna] Magnani totally in my hands and destroyed
her.” 173
In Bulgaria, a prime example of the new emphasis on acting, which waned with
the tradition of Pasolini and socialist realism, was the emergence of actors such as
Apostol Karamitev and Nevena Kokanova. Additionally, acting had become so important
that it was emphasized even in the very small parts of the films. Many directors hoped
that a big talent could save a film from failing. 174 While female actresses in leading roles
171 Pier Paolo Pasolini, “Pier Paolo Pasolini: An Epical-Religious View of the World,” trans.
Letizia Ciotti Miller and Michael Graham, Film Quarterly 18, no. 4 (summer 1965): 32.
172 Ibid., 38.
173 Ibid., 32.
174 Janakiev, 300; As already emphasized, the Bulgarian filmmakers during this period had
an elitist approach which resulted in low numbers of filmgoers to many of the masterpieces
discussed in the previous sections: On the Small Island (1958) 782,770 viewers; Stars (1959)
1,579,913 viewers; We Were Young (1969) 2,303,354 viewers; Sun and Shadow (1962) 921,745
viewers; Tobacco (1962) 4,315,234 viewers; The Inspector and the Night (1963) 1,497,300
viewers; The Peach Thief (1964) 2,519,187 viewers; A Knight without Armor (1965) 712,161
viewers; Tsar and General (1965) 1,257,408 viewers; Taste of Almonds (1967) 507,778 viewers;
The White Room (1968) 668,403 viewers; The Painlevé Case (1968) 197,862 viewers; Swedish
Kings (1968) 678,004 viewers; and Birds and Greyhounds (1969) 258,233 viewers.
154

had a short shelf life in Bulgarian cinema, an array of male actors, conversely, could
regularly and solidly establish themselves in film productions. 175
Another interesting trend was the popularity of the so-called intellectual actors,
such as Naum Shopov, Izkach Finci and Konstantin Kozev. While actors of the 1950s
needed to reflect an idea or natural forces, in the 1960s, since the movies became
psychological dramas, their ability to act became much more important. This tendency
paralleled what happened in the European cinema as well. As Pierre Sorlin put it. “while
in the 1950s the character was more important in the film, in the 1960s the actor became
most important.” 176
A clear break with the earlier representation of femininity occurred in director
Giuseppe de Santis’ 1949 film Bitter Rice (Riso amaro). 177 Giovanna Grignaffini explains
that by trying to dominate the screen, the beautiful Silvana Mangano opened the door for
a whole generation of young actresses, such as Sophia Loren, Monica Vitti, Claudia
Cardinale, and later Hanna Schygulla. The traditional cinema of the 1950s represented
femininity as naturalness and body of the earth. Such representation had the effect of
diminishing the importance of the actor’s interpretive skill. 178 Conversely, during the
1960s, fine and truthful acting played a significant part in drawing the crowds to film
theaters.
175 Kosta Zonev, Georgi Kalojanchev, Michail Michailov and many others.
176 Sorlin, 146.
177 Ibid., 228, Note 11.
178 Ibid., 228.
155

Film Attendance or The Phenomenon of “Opening Scissors”
The critic Petrov wrote in 1969, “The Bulgarian film of the 1960s has a huge
weakness. This is lack of consistency, flexibility and interest towards themes which are
really important for the development of our film art.” 179 One of the issues related to
1960s films was that they were not well attended by the public, 180 perhaps best explained
by the establishment of the Bulgarian Television on December 26, 1959. 181 In order to
grasp the establishment of this new and powerful medium, one has to look at the situation
of other countries, such as the USSR, which had TV already at the beginning of the
1930s; Poland, Hungary and Yugoslavia, which created their national TV during the
1950s; and of course the USA which had television, albeit extremely limited, by the end
of the 1920s. 182
Although Bulgarian Television had just one program until 1975, this new medium
significantly hurt attendance at movie theaters, as did the predominant film genre of the
1960s. While many of the works had a pure aesthetic value, they were not intended as
spectacle or superb entertainment. As Stanimirova pointed out, the expression “opening
scissors” had become part of the jargon used in film circles to describe the void between
a small circle of cinematic elite and the masses. The critics, themselves lovers of high
179 E. Petrov, “Ot Revolutia kum Iskustvo, ot Iskustvo kum Revolutia” (Revolution to Art,
from Art to Revolution), Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) 6 (1969): 5.
180 See viewership tables provided in Janakiev, 200.
181 Polya Ivanova, “Osnovni Etapi v Razvitiata na Bulgarskata Televiziya (1959-1989),” (“
Major Phases in the Developments of the Bulgarian Television, (1959 – 1989)) in Prelomni
Vremena (Transitional Times), eds. Evgenia Kalinova et al. (Sofia: Universitetsko Izdatelstvo St.
Klement Ochridski, 2006), 691.
182 Ibid.
156

art, desperately attempted to educate the public by creating cinema clubs and lecturing
before the screening of a film. While some of the Italian masterpieces were shown to the
public in the 1960s, many of them, such as La Dolce Vita (1960), 8½ (1963), Juliet of the
Spirits (Giulietta degli spiriti) (1965), La Notte (1961), Eclipse (L’eclisse) (1962), among
others, were not, due to concerns of the censors that the public would not understand
them. 183 Masterpieces, such as La Strada (1954), reached the Bulgarian screen first in
1969. In other words, the Bulgarian mainstream audience had little appreciation for
complex and intensely intellectual films, especially if they were Bulgarian. For example,
the previously discussed works of Stoyanov belong to the category of “least attended
films.” 184 Asked by a critic to explain the lack of interest in his films, Stoyanov
responded
it is unrealistic to expect a high number of viewers to films with similar
themes. It is due to the fact that many films were shown dealing with the themes of
Bulgaria before the Revolution. The public knows that this genre is not
entertaining. Most of the viewers just did not know what Birds and Greyhounds is
really about. 185
A look at the skyrocketing numbers of viewers of historical dramas from the
1960s, such as The Peach Thief and Tsar and General (the viewer numbers were
indicated in the preceding sections) indicate the data do not support Stoyanov’s
argument. In fact, the Bulgarian viewers loved many historical films. The problem with
this auteur is that he could never truly connect with the public. Notwithstanding the
183 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 506, list 90, 1970.
184 Janakiev, 299.
185 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 506, list 91, 1971 (author’s translation).
157

indisputably high aesthetic quality of his films, they remained too elitist and detached
from the reality that the public wanted to experience.
Despite the fact that interest in Bulgarian films dropped in the middle 1960s,
viewership increased at the close of the decade.
Table 2
Total Number of Film Viewers in Bulgaria per Year (in millions)
by Films’ Country / Region of Origin
Country / Region 1956
| Year
1960 1962 1965 1967 1968 1969 1970
Bulgaria 6.7 12.5 15.6 10.7 9.6 9.0 11.2 11.5
Soviet Union 35.1 49.7 48.1 27.4 26.2 25.1 26.0 25.6
Other Communist
Countries
19.0 20.6 31.6 38.0 38.6 28.2 30.0 31.8
Capitalist Countries 21.0 27.1 23.0 41.2 37.4 45.5 37.5 37.6
Source: CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a.e. 115, l. 97, 1971.
The table indicates that the number of viewers of films imported from capitalist countries
was the highest from 1965 onward, suggesting that Western culture had enormous
popularity not only among filmmakers but also among the viewing public as well.
This chapter assessed the major cinematic themes and trends onto political
developments during the rebellious 1960s. In conclusion, the evidence, analysis, and
examples highlighted the Bulgarian Cinema’s intense subversiveness during this era,
suggesting that it was following in its unique way the path of its Western neighbors’
cinemas.
158

CHAPTER 3
Confronting the Fires: Myth and Memory in Bulgarian Film during the 1970s
The soul burns to suffer for what it loves. I do not think about it—I know
about it. I sense a big wound in the bottom of my heart, but it is so delightful that I
linger in my sorrow and take pleasure in my pain. 1
–Julia Kristeva
I have a fever. I am suffering. I feel like some fire is flowing in my veins. I
imagine that if I cut an artery and let some blood flow, I will feel calmer. 2
–Nikos Kazanzakis
Living Ethos and its Implications for Film
Think of me as a fire. 3
–Lyudmila Zhivkova
The relaxed measures of control over the film industry made the 1970s the
golden era of Bulgarian cinema. Several key factors were instrumental in this
development. The 1970s marked the stage of détente or warmer relations with the West
in the Cold War. 4 The dictator, Zhivkov, under the influence of his liberally-minded
1
Julia Kristeva, New Maladies of the Soul, trans. Ross Guberman (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1995), 65.
2
Nikos Kazanzakis, Smia i Lilia (Snake and Lily), trans. Ivan Genov (Sofia: Narodna
Kultura, 1981)
3 Lyudmila Zhivkov, quoted in Kalinova and Baeva, 810.
159

daughter Lyudmila Zhivkova, chose to flirt with the intellectuals instead of punishing
them as he did during the 1960s. The government increased the budgets for film
production. Very intellectual and liberally-minded individuals, such as Pavel Pisarev,
Christo Christov, and Ivan Popjordanov were appointed as executives of the Bulgarian
Cinematography. Zhivkov’s daughter, Lyudmila, who was a minister of culture from the
mid 1970s, played a crucial role for creating a positive atmosphere for the Cineastes. The
Politburo reintroduced the practice of establishing four artistic collectives whose
members came exclusively from the ranks of the intellectual elite. The role of the
collectives was to creatively criticize, approve, or dismiss the projects, scripts, choice of
crews, and finally, the films of their colleagues. As a result, no films, regardless of
content and message, were suppressed, and the quality of cinematic oeuvres improved
dramatically. Because the 1970s are the most prolific and significant time in the history
of the industry, after exploring the political scenery, this chapter will primarily focus on
the films produced during the period and assess the circumstances surrounding their
creation, and the reactions of the public and the domestic and international media.
In 1971, the government started drafting a new (third) constitution. Plans for this
change were already underway in 1958, while countries such as Romania and
Czechoslovakia had written new constitutions in 1965. The presumption behind the
project was that “the Communist society” had developed sufficiently to enter a second
phase of Communism. 5 Initially, this led to renewed pressure on the intelligentsia to
4 One reason for the improving of relations with the West was the international energy crises
during the 1970s, which served as a wakeup call to the Cold War protagonists who realized their
vulnerability in an interconnected world. Evidence for the warming up of international relations is
also the Helsinki accords in which many decisions for collaborations were taken.
160

compose exclusively ideologically based works. Some cultural leaders left the country
but their numbers were insignificant. 6 Despite the efforts of the Party to strengthen
control over culture, the 1970s and the beginning of 1980s were relatively prosperous
times for Bulgaria, which meant that the film industry benefitted from large production
budgets. Talented playwrights continued to state their honest opinions about
contemporary life. 7 New waves originated in filmmaking, such as the “migration wave,” 8
based on the city-versus-country dichotomy and dealing with the issues of
industrialization and the separation of humans from the land. Good examples are the
films Last Summer (Posledno lyato) (1974) and A Tree without Roots (Darvo bez koren)
(1974), which will be discussed in the following sections. Other interesting themes were
devoted to facing the remote past as in the films Manly Times (Mazhki vremena) (1977)
and The Goat Horn (Koziyat rog) (1972). The problems of the new generation and the
modern hero as anti-hero were likewise explored in such films as Advantage (Avantazh)
(1977), Swap (Trampa) (1978), and All is Love (Vsichko e lyubov) (1979).
As already noted, the 1970s was a time of détente or a relational opening up with
the West, marked by a more pragmatic foreign and domestic political agenda. In addition,
the global energy crises of 1973–1974 and 1979–1980 led to even larger compromises on
5 After Bulgaria, most of the socialist countries follow such as East Germany, Poland, and
Albania, among others. Kalinova and Baeva, 160.
6 Good examples are the internationally established scholars, such as Zvetan Todorov, Julia
Kristeva, and the writer Guergui Markov, who while in London in 1978 was killed by a poisoned
stab wound in the leg from an umbrella by a passerby, who turned out to be a Bulgarian spy. For
more examples, see Kalinova and Baeva, 172.
7 Such as Ivan Radoev, Stanislav Stratiev and Jordan Radichkov.
8 Kalinova and Baeva, 173.
161

oth sides of the East-West divide. 9 Pragmatism in governmental affairs in dealing with
intellectuals was exemplified in Zhivkov’s politics of flirtation.” 10 This political strategy
manifested in appointing large numbers of intellectuals and artists to leading
governmental positions.
Zhivkov was a coquette. During the 1970s, he started portraying himself as an
intellectual, publishing his speeches for the first time. Although written by very mediocre
writers, they were quoted and praised in several major journals and newspapers. 11 The
dictator initiated weekly Monday afternoon meetings with prominent Bulgarian writers,
during which he built and nurtured intimacy by revealing to the writers “secrets” about
fellow Party members. In exchange, he demanded that writers also disclose “secrets”
about their fellow colleagues. 12
Another form of the politics of flirtation played out in the creation of The Hunting
Society. Once per year, Zhivkov started inviting his most intimate friends, such as the
poet Liubomir Levchev, the painter Svetlin Russev, the actor Stephan Gezov and the
writers and scriptwriters Jordan Radichkov and Emmilian Stanev to a hunting event. In
later years, The Hunting Society grew in numbers, including all presidents and vice
presidents of the Artistic Unions. Contemporary newspapers started featuring the yearly
9 Evgeni Kandilarov, “70-te Godini na XX VEK – Apogeii na Bulgaro-Yaponskite
Othoshcheniya”, (The 70s in the 20 th Century, Apogee of Bulgarian-Japanease Relations) in
Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 753.
10 Evgenia Kalinova, “Simbiozata na Vlastta – Inteligentziya v Bulgaria prez 70-te Godini na
XX VEK”, (“The Symbiosis of Power – The Bulgarian Intelligentsia during the 1970s of the 20 th
Century”) in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 770.
11 Ibid.
12 Ibid.
162

gatherings, displaying on their front pages, for example, writer Leda Mileva with a rifle
or the famous hypochondriac, the writer Bogomil Rainov, covered with a scarf like a
Napoleonic solder in Moscow. 13
Most of the invited had no idea how to hunt, but they eagerly and graciously
accepted the invitations as enormous honors. An intimate campfire dinner with the
dictator followed every hunt, allowing unusual access to the leader and offering free-
flowing conversations and frivolity. The head of state was very inclusive indeed,
gathering around the fire some of his greatest supporters such as Liubomir Levchev,
together with his most bitter opponents such as partisan fellow and scriptwriter Christo
Ganev. Zhivkov did not flirt just with the exclusive group of his favorites. His favoritism
was a mass cultural phenomenon.
Another tactic of the politics of flirtation included the creation of many new
restaurants and clubs for representatives of the cultural arena and the performance of
personal favors to selected individuals such as giving of apartments, parts in films,
medals, lavish birthday parties, and higher positions in the governmental apparatus.
Zhivkov’s manipulative games explain his success in “domesticating” even the most
rebellious and alienated factions of the intellectual elite despite the fact that it
simultaneously created in them a tremendous discomfort. The gestures, of course, had
political overtones and required cooperation from the elected. 14
As already discussed in chapter one, official censorship was abolished in 1956;
13 Dimiter Grigorov, “‘Nie Ne Sme Rumunitzi, Nie Sme Daki!‘ Nardodat zad Chauschesky
Seushescu‚ Rusnatzite‘ (1968)“, ( „We are not Rumanians, we are Dacians! The Folk behind
Chaushesky against the Russians“ (1968)) in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 722.
14 Kalinova, in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 773.
163

therefore, artists were expected to regulate themselves. This is exactly how Zhivkov
established an auto censorship, which relied mostly on fear and denouncement, leading to
atomization and demoralization of the intellectual elite. For example, during the late
1960s, artistic unions were allowed to have their own congresses but were strongly
encouraged to praise the Party and self-criticize. 15 Again, during the 1970s, the
government monitored mostly the cinema because it was the strongest medium, having
the most powerful influence over the masses. A look at the numbers of film theaters
provides a striking picture about the capital that was invested in the industry: in 1960,
1,515 theaters; in 1970; 3,170 theaters; and in 1973, 3,586 theaters. Film production
increased as well, from ten to eleven films per year during the 1960s to fifteen to eighteen
between 1970 and 1973 and twenty per year during the last half of the 1970s. 16 Because
Zhivkov chose not to suppress the cineastes in a Stalinist manner, the 1970s, under his
rule, offered some of the best films thus far.
In 1975, the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Bulgarian Communist
Party adopted a resolution that brought about crucial positive changes in the Bulgarian
Cinematography. The Party concluded that, at this point, significant and encouraging
events had led the cineastes to unite around the Party. In other words, the
Cinematography had transcended its initial weaknesses and difficulties and entered a new
phase of cooperation. On the other hand, the government required that the cineastes
increase their efforts at creating positive images of the Communist and emphasizing the
inspiring influence of the Party. Furthermore, the resolution stated that considerable
15 Ibid., 777.
16 CSA, Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), f. 1B, op. 65, a. e. 21, list 24, 1979.
164

attention needed to be paid to the development of infrastructure, such as expanding the
Bulgarian Film Center and the resources of the Bulgarian Film Archive, as well as
effectively employing Bulgarian films as propaganda tools abroad. 17 The Party realized
that the Bulgarian cinema was not developing within the framework that Politburo had
expected. Notwithstanding, their draconian attitude towards the filmmaking industry
relaxed. In 1971, Pavel Pisarev was appointed CEO of the Bulgarian Cinematography. 18
After completing a degree in economics in 1957, Pisarev started working at the
editorial offices of the Bulgarian Deed newspaper, later becoming its correspondent in
Paris. During his stay in the French capital, Pisarev developed a passion for cinema,
viewing all films of the French New Wave in the 1960s. After his return, he rose quickly
to the position of general executive of the Bulgarian Cinematography and vice president
of Bulgarian Culture.
Pisarev was well connected. He married the daughter of one the Communist
martyrs, Vassil Kolarov 19 , and was a close friend of Zhivkov and especially his daughter
17 CSA, Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), f. 1 B, op. 35, a.e. 5247, list 10–11, 1979.
18 Trud (Work), 9 Feb., 2006, 16; Subesednikm (Interview), 15-21 Oct., 1996, issue 33, 7.
19 Vasil Kolarov (1877-1950) was a Bulgarian Communist leader. After graduating from
high school he worked as a teacher 1895 to 1897, where he joined the Bulgarian Workers’
Socialist Democratic Party (BWSDP). He also studied law in Aix-en Provence, France and later
in Geneva. Following his graduation in 1900, Kolarov worked as a lawyer. After the ideological
split of the BWSDP, he remained in Dimitar Blagoev's revolutionary wing and was subsequently
elected the Parliament in 1913 and 1920. In 1923, he led a Communist uprising along with Georgi
Dimitrov. The uprising failed and Kolarov fled to the Soviet Union. During his exile, he held
various academic and political posts in the Soviet Union. Kolarov returned to Bulgaria in 1945
during its occupation by the Soviet Union, and was elected to the National Assembly again. He
was reelected in 1946 and became provisional president of Bulgaria that year, amidst the growing
domination of the Communists. He remained president until 1947 and then became foreign
minister in the Dimitrov government. When Dimitrov died in July 1949, Kolarov was elected to
replace him. He served as prime minister until his own death a few months later. Kalinova and
Baeva, 385.
165

Lyudmila, a friendship that, no doubt, afforded many subtle benefits to the Bulgarian film
industry.
Pisarev was a very bright intellectual who shared the left-type idealism of his
Western counterparts, embracing the idea of strong and accountable government that
supports and protects the arts and sciences. He was keenly aware of the oppressive
character of the Bulgarian Communist Party, yet, at the same time, he knew how to be the
perfect middleman, smoothing the complicated relationship between the Party and the
filmmakers. As a result, the Bulgarian film industry experienced something of a golden
age under his leadership, during which no films were suppressed.
Fortunately, filmmakers who had been previously ostracized, such as Binka
Zhelyaskova, received a chance to make films again. In many cases, Pisarev, as a
member of Zhivkov’s inner circle, acted effectively as an advocate for the cineastes,
often persuading the dictator that a film with an obvious subversive message really had
no political agenda at all and therefore needed not be suppressed. 20 For example, in an
interview, Pisarev shared that he often tricked the country’s executive head by sending
films to international festivals without first showing them to Zhivkov. After the films had
received prestigious awards, it was much easier to convince the Party leaders that the film
should definitely be made available for screening. 21 Zhivkov was a fox, but he was also
well known for his lack of intelligence and heavy dependence on his advisors to make
political decisions and write speeches for him. He and his daughter were not interested in
film; they entirely relied on the interpretations of a film content and message of their
20 This is the case of Binka Zhelyazkova’s The Last Word (Poslednata Duma) (1973).
21 Pavel Pisarev, interview with author, 17 Jul. 2007.
166

close associates.
In her short life, Zhivkov’s daughter, Lyudmila, became a very active player in
the political arena. Early in the decade she was promoted by her father to Politburo
member and chairperson of the Committee for the Sciences, Arts, and Culture. Zhivkova
was a firm believer that Bulgaria needed to develop a national consciousness by
supporting arts and culture. Even today, few doubt her enormous contribution to the
cultural cause of Bulgaria. 22 For example, she organized many exhibits of Bulgarian art,
most prominently iconography, and was the first to introduce at home exhibits of
paintings by Leonardo da Vinci. She created a Bulgarian Museum of Western Art and the
international initiative “Assembly of Peace,” which hosted child painters from all over
the world. 23
Lyudmila enjoyed enormous popularity at home. Many people looked upon her as
the “natural follower” of her father. 24 In order to understand her political decisions, one
must know that during the 1970s, the dictator’s daughter slowly became more and more
engaged with religious activities, being a follower and student of Nicholas and Elena
Roerich, who were the creators of theosophy or the “agne yoga.” 25 Stalin’s daughter
Svetlana Alliluyieva was also a devoted follower of Roerich in her younger years. 26 As a
22 Kalinova and Baeva, 174.
23 Ibid.
24 Michail Grouev, “Liudmila Zhivkova – Putyat kum ‘Agni Ioga’” (Lyudmila Zhivkova –
The Road to “Agni Yoga”), in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 796.
25 H. P. Blavatsky, The Secret Doctrine (New York: Tarcher / Penguin, 2009); Nicholas
Roerich, Realm of Light, trans. Mary Siegrist (Lexington, KY: Ancient Wisdom Publications,
2009).
167

child of a dictator, Zhivkova could afford to be stubborn and eccentric. Historian Michail
Grouev notes that the more her religiosity deepened, the faster she climbed the ladder of
her political career as the cultural leader of Bulgaria. Her speeches, interviews, and books
were widely available. They contained codes and messages that offer a testimony of her
religious convictions. Her belonging to the mystical movement of theosophy was a public
“secret” never mentioned explicitly in her works. Her closest collaborators were the
writer Bogomil Rainov and the poet Liubomir Levchev. 27
The relaxation of censorship of the intelligentsia was connected to Zhivkov’s
presence on the cultural stage. Her mysterious death, which still remains unexplained,
fuels numerous speculations among scientists and fiction writers. After being found dead
in her bathtub in 1981, not only did her ideas for freedom and peace disappear but also
her entire library collection and personal manuscripts. As Bogomil Rainov commented,
“the absurd ending of Zhivkova’s life was used as a signal for stopping all her projects
and the destruction of all signs of them. To ask what happened to her library collection
and her writing was useless and dangerous.” 28 Because of the complete disappearance of
all her personal belongings, it is impossible to give a scientifically accurate interpretation
of her death. Grouev is sure that there was a struggle for power between the father and
the daughter and that by immersing herself more deeply into her synthetically mystical
faith in the living Ethos, 29 Lyudmila was seeking a refuge from the present and tried to
26 She openly joined the sect in 1974. Further details may be found in the documentary
Svetlana about Svetlana, writ. and dir. Lana Parshina, perf. Lana Parshina and Svetlana
Alliluyieva, Icarus Films, 2008.
27 Grouev, in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 799.
28 Ibid.
168

ebel against her powerful father. 30
Surprisingly, so far Zhivkov’s daughter has not been the prime object of interest
for scholars. Limited accounts about her were produced by her closest associates, such as
insider friend, the poet Liubomir Levchev, her guru Bogomil Rainov, and the director
Vasa Gancheva, who made the documentary film The Last Seven Years of the Life of
Lyudmila Zhivkova (Poslednite sedem godini ot zhivot na Liudmila Zhivkova) (2006),
among a limited number of others. 31
Very little is known about the early life of Lyudmila Zhivkova, born in 1942, and
first married in 1961. Her official Communist biographer claimed that her interest in
Eastern cultures and religions had its origins in the 1960s. As an undergraduate major in
philosophy she wrote two ambitious presentations, one about the Asiatic people and their
history and culture and the second about the problems in the spiritual culture of the Asian
continent. After receiving her BA from the University in Sofia, Lyudmila was
immediately hired at the Bulgarian Scientific Institute. In 1968, she married for a second
time and started spending long hours reasoning about the nature of synthesis as a
complex and multifaceted phenomenon. She was primarily occupied analyzing the
synthesis of art and spirituality as a superior form of cultural and human expression,
echoing Roerich’s idea of art as “an occult creation of delicate energies, which is
sublimated into the triangular symbiosis of Unity, Artistry, and Beauty.” 32
Later, Zhivkova directly adapted Roerich’s symbiosis idea as the motto for her
29 Roerich.
30 Grouev, in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 799. .
31 Ibid., 798.
32 Ibid.; Roerich.
169

cultural policies. In the late 1960s, she created “The Friday Circle,” during which she
gathered each week her closest friends and young, promising poets, painters, opera
singers, and scriptwriters, among others, in her home on Oboriste Street. Of course,
many of her entourage were simply careerists seeking favor with the government, but
among her regular visitors was also the journalist Pavel Pisarev, who, as already
mentioned, became the general executive of the Bulgarian film industry in the early
1970s. By the late 1960s, Zhivkova had established herself as a historian. By attracting
the artistic elite of the country, she demonstrated the ambition to be the cultural leader of
Bulgaria. As already noted, the most important role in her life was played by writer
Bogomil Rainov. 33 Both were able to keep hidden their joint practice of the “secret
teaching.” Much later in his memoirs, Zhivkova’s chauffeur revealed that he often
waited long after midnight in front of Rainov’s apartment for her return from the
clandestine rendezvous with her guru. 34
As an historian, Zhivkova studied at Oxford in 1969 and 1970, and in a
surprisingly short time, defended a dissertation (1971) entitled Major Aspects of Anglo-
Turkish Relations during the 1930s (Ognovni Aspekti na Anglissko-Turskite Otnoshenija
pres 1930). The dissertation was published in Bulgaria already in the same year. 35
Predictably, Zhivkova had a great deal of help that stretched way beyond the financial:
Bulgarian scholars rumor that entire passages of her dissertation were written, under the
orders of the dictator, of course, by the most established Bulgarian historian at the time,
33 Lyudmila’s pseudonym used only by her closest friends.
34 Grouev, in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 801.
35 Ibid., 802.
170

Professor Ivan Duichev. 36 Insider friend Levchev suggests in his memoirs that her
passion for Hinduism increased dramatically after her return from Oxford. 37 Taking into
consideration the revolutionary cultural significance of the 1960s and 1970s, it is of little
surprise that the West had influenced the New Age spirituality of Zhivkov’s daughter.
On October 23, 1971, Zhivkov’s wife and Lyudmila’s mother, Dr. Mara Maleeva
Zhivkova, passed away. From that moment, Zhivkov even more vigorously promoted his
daughter’s career, who replaced her mother as the first lady. In the same year she became
the vice minister of culture. A year later in March 1972, Lyudmila assumed the duties of
minister of culture, a position she held until her death in 1981. During the early period of
her tenure, Zhivkova experimented with many facets of New Age spirituality, including
occultism, esotericism, and mysticism but gravitated more and more towards the “White
Brotherhood” [Bjaloto Bratstvo]. 38 Therefore, many members of the “White
Brotherhood” or Dunovists, named after their creator Peter Dunov, worked at the
Committee of Culture under her direct patronage. Since the Dunovists were considered
reactionary dissidents by the Communists, their employment became a scandal. In the
1970s, Zhivkov was excoriated by Brezhnev for being unable to control his daughter’s
eccentric behavior. Zhivkov recalls in his memoirs that he tried to talk to his daughter
but, as usual, Lyudmila was stubborn and would not listen to him.
It is difficult to exactly label Lyudmila Zhivkova’s faith, which was a tri-mixture
of Hinduism, Roerich’s idea about the living Ethos inspired by the secret teaching of
36 Ibid.
37 Levchev, quoted in Grouev, Ibid.
38 Ibid.
171

Elena Blavatska, 39 and the closely connected theosophical movement and the teachings
of Dunov. 40 These three sources, in turn, inspired both the Bulgarian writer Bogomil
Rainov and Lyudmila. Zhivkova also maintained a highly emotional and intimate
relationship with the Bulgarian blind female prophet, Vanga, 41 a connection that
contributed to the regime’s tolerance toward the Oracle as well as to religion in general.
During the 1970s, Vanga was taken under governmental patronage, appearing in photos
with the dictator and on television shows. Prominent scientists from the capital were even
encouraged to study the so-called parapsychological Vanga phenomenon. 42
In the early 1970s, Zhivkova’s main interest was not to dominate the art scene
but to use it as a disguised arena for her pursuit of religious enlightenment. A car accident
on November 12, 1972, while bringing her father to the airport, left Lyudmila with head
wounds from which she never fully recovered. 43 The pain that she suffered after the
catastrophe intensified her already deep piety. After the accident, all that occupied the
minister of culture was the practice of “the living Ethos.” 44 The incident left her almost
39 Helena Blavatsky, The Secret Doctrine (Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing House,
1978). Blavatsky is also known as Elena Blavatska, H. P. Blavatsky and Helena Petrovna
Blavatskaya.
40 Grouev, 153
41 Vanga was a Bulgarian alleged clairvoyant. She convinced many followers that she
possessed paranormal abilities.
42 Vulchinova, quoted in Grouev, Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 804.
43 This explains why from then on she decided to wear an Indian-style turban in public.
44 “The Living Ethos” is an idea, as already noted, created by the painter Nicholai Roerich
and his wife Elena. It is a version of the secret teaching of Blavatska and her theosophy circle.
Blavatska can be considered as the founder of modern occultism, which she developed in the
Himalayas. One of the major principles of the teaching is the practice of agne yoga (fire yoga)
which according to the theosophers is the most perfect yoga. Theosophy itself is a synthesis
172

lind, and what little she could see, she perceived as upside down. The efforts of the most
gifted physicians had no results. As Levchev comments, Zhivkova was able to partly
recover her vision by throwing away all her medication, stopping consumption of any
alcohol, and practicing yoga and vegetarianism for months.
The biographical details are important because from then on Zhivkova used the
cultural arena even more intensely as an outlet for her spiritual fulfillment. For example,
she tried to implement within the educational system the idea of the well-rounded
individual after the model of the “Renaissance man.” She believed that the thelos of the
Living Ethos was to be achieved in pure Beauty, a belief espoused by her role model,
Roerich, whom she invited to Bulgaria in 1978. He gave a long interview published in the
prestigious newspaper Narodna Kultura (Popular Culture) in which he said: “We must
strive towards beauty and excellence. If we try to create each day something more
beautiful than the day before, just then we will be able to attract powers of amazing
strength. “ 45
In 1975, Zhivkova became a member of the Central Committee and was
automatically re-appointed as the president of the Ministry of Culture, though up until her
death in 1981, she was only superficially engaged in cultural affairs. This is why the
1970s were the freest stage in the development of the film industry. In her cultural model,
Zhivkova encouraged within the otherwise dictatorially closed cultural universe of
between western European and Eastern teachings such as Buddhism and Hinduism combined
with the esoteric and occult teachings and influenced particularly by the theory of two parallel
worlds described by the Swedish physician, Immanuel Svedenborg, who died from mental illness.
Grouev, in Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 807.
45 Narodna Kultura (Popular Culture), 28 Apr., 1978, no. 7.
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Bulgaria 46 a degree of cosmopolitanism, and a value system very close to that of Western
intellectuals.
The following section offers a close examination of some of the most important
films created in the history of Bulgarian film.
The Films of the Seventies
Lovers of a dead sun, they see ashes where a thousand phoenixes are
constantly reborn. 47
–François Chalais
The Goat Horn (Koziyat rog) (1972), tells the story of the rape of the herder
Karaivan’s wife by a group of Turks while he is away tending his goats in the mountains.
After being brutally abused the entire night, the woman dies. Their little daughter Maria
witnesses the horror. In despair, Karaivan burns down his house, leaves the village, and
goes to live in the mountains, deciding to raise Maria as a boy. After losing his beloved
wife, the herder is convinced that the only way a woman can survive under Ottoman
rule 48 is by disguising her sex. As the hero says, “I will make you a man or I will give
you to the goats. This world is not for women.” 49
Ten years pass and Maria grows into a beautiful woman. She has learned to fight
46 Violina Atanasova, in Problemat Iztok - Zapad (East – West Issues: Modern and
Contemporary History Transformations), 317.
47 François Chalais, quoted in Bickerton, ix.
48 Bulgaria was under Ottoman rule between the 13 th and 19 th centuries.
49 The Goat Horn (Koziyat rog), writ. Nikolai Haitov, dir. Metodi Andonov, perf., Katya
Paskaleva, Anton Gorchev, Milen Penev, and Todor Kolev, Boyana Film, 1972; Galina
Gencheva, Bulgarski Igralni Filmi: Anotirana Ilyustrovana Filmografiya, Tom Treti (1971–1980)
(Bulgarian Feature Films: An Annotated Illustrated Filmography, vol. 3, 1971–1980) (Sofia: Dr.
Ivan Bogorov Publishing House, 2088), 62–63.
174

with a knife and under the instructions of her father she kills two of the rapists of her
mother with a sharpened goat horn. Worried, the Turks send a search party to the
mountains, but Karaivan leads them away from his daughter. Dressed in men’s clothes,
Maria meets a young shepherd in the mountains and falls in love with him. Her father
notices that Maria has changed, softened by feminine instincts, and in anger kills her
favorite lamb and makes her skin it herself. The father sends Maria, against her will, to
kill the third rapist. She spies on the Turk engaging in foreplay with one of his women,
but this time she cannot carry out the assassination.
Maria meets the shepherd once again. He offers to take a bath with her and her
ruse is undone; Maria spends the night with him. Once again, Maria cannot kill the Turk.
All she longs for is warmth and tenderness. She visits her beloved one more time, but
Karaivan follows her, and, after Maria has departed, kills the young shepherd with the
goat horn. The horn becomes not only a weapon against oppression but also a symbol for
self-destruction. The next morning Maria finds the shepherd dead. Devastated, she
washes the body, prepares it for the funeral, sets the house of her lover on fire and throws
herself in. Karaivan tries to save Maria but it is too late. He goes mad from grief. The
movie ends when he rolls a large rock from the mountain into a ditch, which creates a
deafening noise. 50
The Goat Horn is a tragic story written by Nikolai Haitov 51 , which takes place in
50 Ibid.; Gencheva, vol. 3, 62-63.
51 Nikolai Haitov (born 1919 in Yovorovov, died 2002). Storyteller, dramatist, and
screenplay writer, Nikolai Haitov was a shepherd and forester in his beloved Rhodope Mountains
before turning to writing in the mid-1950s. His books, upon publication, were immediate popular
successes.
175

the seventeenth century, the time in which Bulgaria was occupied by the Ottoman
Empire. The drama is located on the legendary Rhodope Mountains. 52 It expresses the
repressed anger of many Bulgarians who would like retribution for the innumerable
In the 1960’s Haitov began to write for the theater. Then, in the 1970s, Haitov found his way
to original screenplay writing. He was first discovered by a young Bulgarian student at the
Moscow Film School, Georgi Djulgerov, who adapted one of his stories for a graduation project:
The Cooper (Bondar) (1969), relocated in Armenia instead of the Rhodope Mountains. The
Cooper won a prize at the Oberhausen Short Film Festival in 1970; this recognition prompted
Djulgerov to make a second version, a film-novella titled The Test (Izpit) (1971). The Test, in
turn, was coupled with another Haitov film-novella, Milen Nikolov’s Naked Conscience (Gola
savest) (1970), for distribution as a full-length feature film titled Colorful World (Sharen svyat)
(1971). At the same time, Nikolov adapted another Haitov story, The End of the Song (Krayat na
pesenta) (1971). The cartoonist Todor Dinov filmed his fairy-tale play The Dragon (Lamyata)
(1974), set in the Middle Ages.
Haitov worked on all these scripts. They served as a preparation for the most successful film
in Bulgarian history: The Goat Horn (Kozijat rog) (1972), directed by Metodi Andonov from an
original screenplay by Haitov. The myths and legends, the flair of an unpolished but musical
language, the age-old tests of manhood and valor, the rites of nature, the celebrations of spring
planting and autumn harvesting, the songs and the dances – this is the lore of the Rhodopes that
Haitov brought to mass audiences through the films he scripted for the young film industry.
His next successful screenplay was Manly Times (Mazhki vremena) (1977), directed by
Edouard Zahariev. Beginning with the remark that this is “a very old story,” Haitov wove a tale
of love and kidnapping that could fit into any historical period of the past. When placed next to
Djulgerov’s The Test and Metodi Antonov’s The Goat Horn, Zahariev’s Manly Times gives the
impression of being the completion of a Haitov trilogy on the theme of courage and endurance in
a time of trial.
Another striking element in Haitov’s stories is the author’s respect for the outsider – to be
more exact, for the loser. Even when the hero is victorious, he has lost something vitally human
in the process. An innocent young girl is trained by her father to avenge the murdered mother in
The Goat Horn. The kidnapper in Manly Times suffers the ignominy, and the consequences, of
falling in love with his captive. In a story adopted by Hristo Hrsitov, A Tree without Roots (Darvo
bez koren) (1974), a man of the mountains is lost in the buzz of the city. And in The Cherry
Orchard (Chereshova gradina ) (1979), directed by Ivan Andonov from an original Haitov
screenplay, a forester in communion with nature cannot win a lonely battle with public officials to
save the fruit trees he has easily protected from natural parasites.
Respect for the individual, right or wrong, was a significant contribution by a prominent
writer to Bulgarian film as it came of age over the last decade. Nikolai Haitov, so far as his
Haiduk tales of the Rhodope Mountains are concerned, will long be remembered as his country’s
balladeer. Holloway, 57.
52 All of the films based on Haitov tales were set in the Rhodope Mountains. The beauty of
the Rhodopes was attested to in ancient literature by Ovid, Virgil and Horace. It was here, in the
land of Thrace that the legend of Orpheus originated; Thrace is also the home of the ancient god
of wine excess Dionysos or Bacchus. Thracian costumes and folk traditions survive in the area to
present day. The tale of vengeance in The Goat Horn, honed to a ballad or legend by centuries of
storytelling, may have had its roots in ancient Thrace.
176

injustices done to them by the Ottoman colonizers. The horn of the goat functions as the
instrument for vengeance. This is an intense work in which the mythic and the modern
are intertwined. It hit a nerve with the Bulgarian audiences, who stormed the film
theaters. Its success demonstrated the presence of a painful wound related to the Ottoman
legacy in the Balkans, which needed to be confronted in order to be healed. As Hans-
Dieter Tok wrote on July 1, 1974, in the Leipziger Volkszeitung, “This film does not
function as a spectacle. [Director] Andonov’s goal is to highlight the tragedy of defeat of
a hero who longs to be able to be as he is.” 53
Furthermore, Tok described the film as an “antic drama, possessing pristine
beauty and presented with a rich and highly stylized even stern language, controlled
camera, precise representation of time and place and brilliant performance of the actors
Paskaleva and Gorchev.” 54 Alexander Grozev also points out that The Goat Horn depicts
the rough sensuality of mountain people who lead a monotonous primitive life. Grozev
refers to the theories of 1920s geographer Jovan Cvijic who argued that the Balkan
Mountains are inhabited by a special kind of wild people, very different from those living
in the valleys. 55 Andonov wanted to explore the myth about the magic of the Balkans and
its mysterious residents. Due to the realistic and authentic outlook of the film and its
therapeutic effect on the spectators, the dividing line between art and life, and myth and
reality, seems to disappear.
No filmmaker before Andonov had dared to gaze so deep into the traumatic
53 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 12, 1984.
54 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 12–13, 1984.
55 Iordanova, 118.
177

memories and grief of many Bulgarians associated to their history as colonized people.
The film shocked and provoked the audiences demanding an effort from the Bulgarian
viewers to break their amnesia and confront the past. As Grozev put it, “the extreme
violence of the opening rape scene summarizes the place that Ottoman Turks occupy in
Balkan imaginary: they are traditionally seen as the archetypal enemy.” 56 The movie
functions also as a mythological story about the eternal themes of love, transgression,
violence, vengeance, and death. The cinematic set up of the film is reminiscent of some
works of Italian cinema, where mountainous remote locations produce extreme
manifestations of patriarchal oppression. 57 The dialogue is very limited, and the music
written by Maria Neikova is based on a song without words. It complements the narrative
in a brilliant way. The song became a hit in Bulgaria in the 1970s. 58
The Goat Horn was viewed by 2,340,796 people or approximately one-third of
the Bulgarian population in only three months after its release. By the end of the year, it
was bought by sixty-two countries, among which fifty-six were capitalistic. According to
statistical data, this is one of the most watched Bulgarian films. 59 Among other
prestigious prizes in film festivals in Chicago, Belgium, and Panama, it won the Jury
56 Ibid., 119.
57 A good example is Father and Master (Padre Padrone), writ. Paolo Taviani, dir. Paolo
Taviani and Vittoria Taviani, perf. Omero Antonutti, Saverio Marconi, Marcella Michelangeli,
and Fabrizio Forte, Cinema s.r.l., 1977.
58 The music was given by the Bulgarian Communist Party to the established composer
Pironkov, who wrote the music for most Bulgarian films, but Andonov rejected Pironkov and
hired the young Neikova instead. Kino (Cinema), 2007, issue 2, 8.
59 Kalinova and Baeva, 788.
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Prize at the 1972 Karlovy Vary film festival. 60 Being able to predict the success of the
film, Bulgarian sociologists started distributing questionnaires at the beginning of each
screening. The results of the survey showed that eighty percent of the public liked the
film. 61 This film, together with The Peach Thief and Advantage, among others, provided
a rare occasion in which the critics and the public expressed the same positions.
The Last Word (Poslednata duma), 1973, a film made by Binka Zhelyazkova as a
comeback after a long and involuntarily break from shooting, 62 begins with a busy street
scene. Suddenly, sirens sound and everyone freezes on the spot. It is July 2 – the Day of
the Fallen (partisans) in the fight for Socialism. The scene of the present is followed by a
scene that takes place during the late 1930s. Behind the walls of a prison, six women
convicted in conspiracy with the then illegal resistance movement wait on death row: a
school teacher, a student, a villager, the witch “black” Maria, Anna, and a woman with no
particular identity or name.
The teacher is giving a birth to a baby girl in the cell. Further, the viewer
discovers that every night, the student is taken to the gallows where soldiers perform a
mock hanging. Afterwards, the terrified girl is returned to her cell. The teacher is forced
to sign a declaration against her beliefs, and Yana, the villager, is raped by prison guards.
Despite their harrowing situation, they do not betray each other. The bonds between the
women prove to be stronger than the threat of death and torture. All women nurture the
baby girl. The student cheerily decorates the prison walls with brightly-colored paints and
60 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 12, 1984.
61 Kino (Cinema), 2007, issue 2, 9.
62 After stopping her film The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon) in 1965, she was not
allowed to make another film for seven years.
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makes up the women’s faces. After numerous conversations among the female prisoners
and between the imprisoned and their guards about existential issues, such as the purpose
of life, death, and freedom, the day of execution arrives, forcing each character to deal
with impending mortality.
The narrative is constructed along two lines: past, which is in the prison in the
1930s and present, which takes place on a busy and noisy street in the 1970s. Every time
when the present reveals itself, the audience sees the busy streets and hears a loud and
disturbing music which is in complete dissonance with the two narratives. 63 The viewer
experiences that somehow the present abruptly penetrates the past rather than vice versa.
Here, the filmmaker has demonstrated persuasively her unwillingness to accept the
present as it is.
One of the most powerful scenes of the film is an episode which depicts the
cutting the hair of the female prisoners. Hundreds of women, young and old, have their
hair cut by the prison staff. First the women scream and cry. In the next moment,
everybody starts laughing. The laughter continues for several minutes. Spontaneously,
the female prisoners grasp each other’s hands, form a circle and start dancing around a
fire. “Black Maria,” the witch, dances barefoot in the middle of the circle over the hot
ashes of the fire, performing an ancient Bulgarian pagan ritual dance, until she falls into a
trance. The scene evokes associations of castration and its possible liberation effects. The
63 The music of this film, as with many Bulgarian films, was written by the Bulgarian
composer Simeon Pironkov. Because most of the members of film crews were appointed by the
Party and not chosen by the film directors, Pironkov was disliked by many cineastes for his
individualistic style and occasional inability to be a team player in accurately reflecting through
his music the moods in the films. For example, his music was always loud, aiming in many ways
to dominate the cinematic narrative instead of complimenting it. In this regard, one can speculate
that by playing Pironkov’s music even louder than it already was, Zhelyazkova had tried to
sabotage him, evoking through the noisy music a sense of psychosis associated with the present.
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film ends in the past when the school teacher is led to her execution. Asked about her last
wish, she wants to breastfeed her baby. The past ends with the scene of the mother
blissfully breastfeeding her child. When the sirens stop, we are returned to the streets of a
modern city where the people once again go about their business. 64
The entire film is a dark metaphor for the “jailed” existence experienced by
women and is reminiscent of the 1959 Italian film …and the Wild, Wild Women (Nella
citta l’inferno). As one of the female protagonists in the film states, “life is sad. Men
think they have to rule. But they are just sons of great women like us.” 65 This work, like
all others of Zhelyazkova, has a powerful feminist appeal, portraying independent and
strong-willed women who do not function as objects of the male gaze. Being so abundant
with symbols, the film resists any attempt to be pinned down or neatly ordered within a
single critical theory. On the other hand, the subversive message of the director about her
dissatisfaction with the present is clear. This time, due to the favorable circumstances for
the filmmakers in the 1970s discussed in the previous section, the movie was not stopped
from screening. Among other prestigious awards, it won the “Femina” prize at the film
festival in Brussels and was presented at the Cannes festival in 1973. 66
The Hare Census (Prebroyavane na divite zaytzi), released in 1973, is a satire,
following the statistician Asenov, and his young colleague, Trifinov, upon their arrival in
64 The Last Word (Poslednata duma), writ. Binka Zhelyazkova and Stefan Tsanev, dir. Binka
Zhelyazkova, perf. Iana Guirova, Tzvetana Maneva, Aneta Petrovska, and Emilia Radeva,
Boyana Film, 1973; Gencheva, vol. 3, 114–115.
65 …and the Wild, Wild Women (Nella citta l’inferno), writ. and dir. Renato Castellani, perf.
Anna Magnani, Giulietta Massina, Myriam Blu, and Ada Passeri, Riama Film, 1959.
66
Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Poslednata
duma.”
181

the village of Yugla to take a regional census of wild hares. From the start, Asenov
mishandles everything. People head to the open fields, either under threat or of their own
free will, to count the hares. It does not take long for them to realize what kind of leader
Asenov is. After the census, not a single hare is found, but the cabbage patch is
destroyed, the school is empty, and the veterinarian has closed his clinic. As for Trifinov,
he’s having fun with nurse Krasimira in the health office. The mission ends under the old
tree, where the merry company sits at a table, drinking brandy. Asenov heads for home
with his car filled with cabbage. 67
This film received very positive reviews especially among the Western press.
Herman Ride from the Frankfurt newspaper Neue Presse wrote an article on December
12, 1972, entitled “There Are No Wild Hares” (Es gibt keine wilden Hasen), in which he
stated:
This is a witty satire and a comedy with social undertones. Bulgaria is a
film country that we discover first now. Exactly “the small films” express most
precisely the mentality of this national cinematography, which in recent years
draws attention and pleasantly surprises the international film forum. 68
In 1976, Gideon Bachman from the USA went even further and stated that
Bulgaria is a small country and must make small films. 69 Similar statements, though
intended to be encouraging and inspiring, instead deepened the self-doubt of Bulgarian
filmmakers, making them feel provincial and narrowly trained. Even if Zahariev’s film is
excellent, it is not one of the most typical Bulgarian films by far. The style that the
67 The Hare Census (Prebroyavane na divite zaytzi), writ. Georgi Mishev, dir. Edouard
Zahariev, perf. Itzhak Finzi, Maya Dragomanska, Todor Kolev, and Georgi Rusev, Boyana Film,
1973; Gencheva, vol. 3, 124–125.
68 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 102, 1984 (author’s translation).
69 Janakiev, 230.
182

director uses is highly sophisticated but limited to the still exotic genre of absurd
grotesque.
Last Summer (Posledno lyato) (1974), produced by the former physician and
Bulgarian Film Union president, Christo Christov, falls into the category of films about
migrations. Based on a true story, the film is set in a lonely countryside and begins at the
rundown but freshly painted house of Ivan Efreitorov, who sits near the newly irrigated
valley. At the bottom of the dam is his former village. The villagers have moved to the
city, leaving Ivan and his son Dinko. When Ivan’s wife died, she made him swear not to
leave their child uneducated in this wasteland, so Ivan’s brother-in-law decides to take
Dinko to the city for school. Efreitorov protests, but is unable to resist his brother. Soon
everybody and everything is gone. 70
The film operates on two opposing planes: on the one side, we see the reactions
of the villagers, forced to leave their ancestral lands. On the other hand, the story
concentrates on one character, who resists “the norm,” of industrialization by refusing to
move to the city. As a result he regresses to almost a savage state, living alone with just
his aged father, horse, and dogs in a cabin standing at a top of a hill surrounded by the
waters of the artificial valley. Broken from reality, the hero recalls old memories. The
memories emerge like a surrealist mosaic comprised of Christian mythology, the
primitive and dignified life of free hunters, and legends of peasant life. This is an
exceptional and beautiful film. Among other prestigious festivals, Last Summer appeared
during the Bulgarian film week in Brussels in 1975. On November 2, the newspaper Le
70 Last Summer (Posledno lyato), writ.Yordan Radichov, dir. Christo Christov, perf. Grigor
Vachkov, Dimitar Ikonomov, Bogdan Spasov, and Vesko Zehirev, Boyana Film, 1974;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 146–147.
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Soir wrote
the Bulgarian Cinema in general is characterized with a deep humanism,
grace, and without irony, cult towards good feelings…As a whole, the Bulgarian
Cinema is a brotherly cinema and a humanist cinema. I have more precisely in
mind, the film Last Summer by Christo Christov…In this oeuvre he is treating a
well known subject: the big artificial lake, the migration from the village, and
finally, the adaptation of everyone to the new times, except of one single peasant.
The bitter-sweet conclusion: the loneliness in the socialist village leads to
pointless fantasizing. Isn’t this idea exactly contrary to the secret wishes of so
many of our capitalist citizens – a pristine farm in the open, space, and silence? 71
What the reviewer is trying to imply is that Christov himself romanticized the
idea of individualism and freedom as opposed to the crowded and anonymous city life.
On the same day, the newspaper La Dernière Heure printed
Last Summer explores through colorful pictures the problem that
migration poses to the peasant population…The director explores how difficult it
is to balance the common sense of the peasant who is rooted in the land with the
logic of modernization… [W]e have to admit that the West does not possess all
keys to psychoanalyze the mentality of a nation in similar fashion. 72
On February 15, 1975, Boris Lehman added, “This is a film about the fortune of a
human who is in conflict with the world. This movie is surreal. Nature is constantly
present. Pure poetry without pretense…” 73 For this film, Christov received the award for
the best foreign filmmaker at the 1974 film festival in Atlanta, the best film prize in San
Remo 1974, and the jury special prize at the Los Angeles film festival in 1975. In
addition, at the 1975 Toulon, France festival, a gold medal was awarded to lead actor
Grigor Vachkov for best male performer. Ironically, despite its warm reception abroad,
71 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 71-72, 1984. (author’s translation).
72 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 73, 1984 (author’s translation).
73 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 78, 1984.
184

the film attracted only 101,978 viewers 74 in Bulgaria.
Another of Christov’s films that falls into the same category is A Tree without
Roots (Darvo bez koren), 1974, which tells the story of old and respected Gatyo, whose
dream is to domesticate a wild pear tree and make a colorful path of trees up to the
mountain. Gatyo’s wife dies and he goes to live with his son, an engineer, and his son’s
wife, an actress in Sofia. Everything is now new and strange to him. Gatyo, carrying a
tree branch in an urban environment, constantly looks for human contact in the city, but
he often finds indifference and unkindness. He cannot adapt and leaves the city, returning
to his roots. 75 As Christov commented:
The protagonist, the old Gatyo, has spent his entire life in the mountains.
He is vitally connected to the land. The land is the source of all his sorrows and
all his joys. He feels misunderstood in the city and his entire freedom-loving
nature is drawing him back to the land. On the land, Gatyo felt a life and had his
dignity. He felt like an eagle dying during a flight and this last flight he felt useful
to others and respected. The subtitle of the film is called Ballad for the Autumn of
Life. And because many of us will experience it, let’s think about it. 76
Christov concluded that, “With this film, I wanted to show that no barrier for self-
expression should exist for any human being, regardless of age.” 77 This film received
one of the four first prizes at the Karlovy Vary Film Festival in 1974. 78
Villa Zone (Vilna zona) (1974), begins on a fall afternoon. Yonko and Stefka have
74 Janakiev, 302.
75 A Tree without Roots (Darvo bez koren), writ. Christo Christov and Nikolai Haitov, dir.
Christo Christov, perf. Nikola Dadov, Nevena Kokanova, Marin Yanev, and Pavel Popendov,
Boyana Film, 1974; Gencheva, vol. 3, 152–153.
koren.”
76 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 70, 1984. (author’s translation).
77 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 310, list 67, 1984.
78 Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “ Darvo bez
185

a son, who is about to join the army. His parents are preparing a lavish feast for a
goodbye party. The guests start to arrive, but when the party is at its peak, the guest of
honor is still missing. When the son appears, he informs everyone that he has eloped.
This sudden marriage upsets his parents’ plans, since they had already selected the boss’
daughter as their son’s bride. Predictably, there is a quarrel and the party erupts into a
drunken brawl. Yonko’s brother-in-law attacks the squatter Pervazov. At dawn, the
guests leave and only the brother-in-law, who yells at the retreating revelers from across
the fence, remains. Resignedly, Stefka and Yonko get ready for a wedding. 79 This film
does not fit into the migration cycle, but rather caricatures the “consumerist” mentality
and upwardly-mobile posturing of the “former peasant,” who calls his village house “a
villa,” having embraced all aspects of the “buying culture” even under Communism.
Doomed Souls (Oshedeni dushi) (1975), is the last cinematic work of Vŭlo Radev.
The action takes place during the Spanish Civil War, where, in a Madrid hotel room, the
English aristocrat Fanny Horn and the Spaniard Luis Romero converse. After one of her
many emotional crises, Fanny takes a dose of morphine. In her intoxicated state, she
79 Villa Zone (Vilna zona), writ. Georgi Mishev, dir. Edouard Zahariev, perf. Katya
Paskaleva, Itzhak Finzi, Naum Shopov, and Stefka Berova, Boyana Film, 1975; Gencheva, vol. 3,
186 – 187. Edouard Zahariev (born 1938 in Moscow) Upon graduating from the Budapest Film
School in 1961, Zahariev made a series of documentaries before directing his first feature film
from a script by Georgi Mishev; the controversial If the Train Doesn’t Arrive (Ako ne ide vlak)
(1967). The Mishev-Zahariev collaboration on this and two other satires, The Hare Census
(Prebroyavane na divite zaytzi) (1973) and Villa Zone (Vilna zona) (1975), are high-water marks
in Bulgarian cinema. The Hare Census was awarded a prize in Locarno and Villa Zone at Karlovy
Vary; both have been particularly helpful in making Bulgarian cinema known abroad. Zahariev’s
latest films star his wife, Marianna Dimitrova, in films of a tragicomic nature: Manly Times
(Mazhki vremena) (1977), from a screenplay by Nikolati Haitov; and Almost a Love Story (Pochti
lyubovna istoriya) (1980), Georgi Mishev assisting the director in the screenplay. Another side of
this talented filmmaker can be seen in The Sky over the Veleka (Nebeto na Veleka) (1968), a
parable in a documentary vein, and Elegy (Elegia) (1982), a tragic tale scripted by Alexander
Tomov from his novel. Holloway, 71.
186

hallucinates about the past. We are returned to a small inn by the Toledo Road where she
is staying with her traveling companions, the Frenchman Jacques Murie – a physician
without money, and the Americans George and Clara Whinky.
Fanny meets Father Eredia, a Jesuit monk, and Luis’ brother. George initiates a
fight with a group of Republicans, when one of them invites Clara to a dance. The fight is
broken up by the police. The foreigners are tried, the sentence proclaimed, and the friends
disband. George is freed and goes to Portugal with Clara, but Fanny wants to meet Father
Eredia at any price – she is in love with him. She finds him at the college of the Jesuit
order, which doubles as a field hospital, where, Father Eredia, also a physician, practices.
He tells her he is off to Peña Brava where there is a typhus epidemic. Fanny decides to go
with him and Jacques, a young man smitten by her, follows. Father Eredia then meets up
with Brothers Domingo and Olivares. He tries to send Jacques and Fanny away since he
has discovered that her true intentions are not to work as a nurse at the field hospital but
to challenge the priest’s chastity. Fanny refuses to leave and accompany him to Peña
Brava, where the work is excruciating. To cope, Fanny takes morphine, and Eredia visits
Fanny when Jacques is away, kissing her in a moment of weakness. Immediately, he
understands the magnitude of his sin and knows he must redeem himself by penance.
The work of the Jesuit hospital does not go well. Jacques contracts typhus and dies.
Maddened by her passion for the priest and by the violence and desperation she
encounters everywhere, Fanny shoots Eredia. The film ends with Fanny consumed by her
morphine addiction, watching a procession in front of her apartment. 80
80 Doomed Souls (Oshedeni dushi), writ. Dimityr Dimov and Vŭlo Radev, dir. Vŭlo Radev,
perf. Jan Englert, Edith Szalay, Rusi Chanev, and Mariana Dimitrova, Boyana Film, 1975;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 196–197.
187

1973:
Director Vŭlo Radev wrote in his diary on a cool and lovely October night in
Yesterday, I and my assistant Jordan Chalachev, left Sofia to go to
Dubrovnik over Zagreb to choose places for the shooting of Doomed Souls. We
had a lively conversation on the road about the length of the film…Well, we
agreed that the film will be as long as necessary, even if this might have negative
consequences. Second, how can we define the mood of the film? Its impact? Last
Tango in Paris is provocative and the scandal is drawing the audiences to the
theaters. In Cabaret, on the other hand, it is the form and aesthetic beauty and the
wonderful music that make the film so attractive. In The Godfather, Marlon
Brando makes the film a huge success. About my own films, well, in The Peach
Thief there is this feeling that the protagonists were condemned already at the
beginning. What would the case be with Doomed Souls? Perhaps the spiritual
world as reflected in the feelings of Fanny? Or the pain, the suffering, the death,
and the obedience as Spanish and universal themes?
Four days later Radev wrote:
The portrayal of Fanny should be soft. She gently moves her hand to fix
her hair covering her face. Stairs. On the walls, wounded soldiers. Around the
soldiers, people are carrying blankets, baskets with food, typewriters, and
carriages. We must see Fanny many times in order to understand her downfall.
We need to see the entire story through her eyes. A child is collecting bugs,
putting them in a glass and bringing them as a present to its friend. On the front
plan, an excessive experience of contemporary problems: the fanatic and
dogmatic devotion to any faith (idea) denigrates the human individual. Viva la
muerte! – the cry of the nationalists. The funeral of Pablo Neruda. Thousands of
people. Flags. People carrying a coffin. On the side, police, military. There are
just a few days after the death of Allende. 81 The people walk and cry. Cry “The
International!” 82
Radev was strongly influenced by the events in Chile when he read a novel by
Dimiter Dimov that explored the Spanish Civil War. At the same time, the filmmaker saw
the possibility of engaging with his favorite subjects, such as religion and militarism. On
another level the story of Doomed Souls is a story about the impossibility of love, human
81 Here Radev must have been watching TV while writing his diary. Pablo Neruda was a
famous Chilean poet who died on September 23, 1973. The devout Marxist Salvador Allende
died on September 11, 1973.
82 Radev, 195–196 (author’s translation).
188

suffering, and death. In a way, all of the protagonists are crucified: Fanny deciding to
pursue an impossible and self-destructive love passion; the Jesuit priest, who has chosen
a cruel God, whom he can never satisfy; and the Frenchman Jacques, who despite his
sarcasm, cynicism, and frivolity cannot abandon his humanism, sacrificing the good life
which he loves for working as a military doctor in an absurd and senseless war.
Radev loved to work with international crews, hoping to initiate a breakthrough
for the Bulgarian film by casting foreign actors as protagonists. The atmosphere of
détente and the lax censorship in the 1970s were particularly promising for such
endeavors. The director humbly asked the famous producer Dino De Laurentiis to read
his script. However, De Laurentiis thought the story outside the spectrum of modern
sensibility, particularly noting the passion of the British Fanny Horn for the Spanish
Jesuit monk. 83 In the meantime, the Spanish veteran of the Civil War, José Louis de
Vilallonga, edited the script and translated it perfectly into French.
Vŭlo Radev circulated the script to English acting agencies, where the star
Jacqueline Bisset became intrigued with the story and personally came to Sofia to talk to
Radev. According to recollections of the author, after watching The Peach Thief, Bisset
started kissing Radev and promised that she would cancel all her engagements in order to
work with him. Encouraged, Radev opened negotiations with the actor Omar Sharif for
the role of the priest Eredia, but as he admits, he secretly hoped to get Gian Maria
Volonté. However, Volonté declined the part. Radev asked Bisset if she would partner
with the established Polish actor Jan Englert, but Bisset categorically rejected playing
83 Ibid., 196.
189

opposite an unknown actor, adding that she would only work with a Western performer. 84
Englert showed great potential during screen tests. After Bisset’s refusal, Radev
tried Bulgarian actresses for the part of Fanny, but as he admits, they looked extremely
provincial and lacked finesse when coupled with Englert. 85 After some pondering, Radev
followed the advice of a Hungarian colleague and invited the very young, inexperienced,
and then unknown Hungarian actress Edith Szalay for a screen test. Immediately upon
her arrival at the airport, she was brought to the Boyana Filmcenter, handed a script
translated in Hungarian, dressed in a nurse costume, and introduced to Jan Englert. They
started rehearsing one of the episodes in which Fanny begs Eredia to let her go with him
to the field hospital:
“Why [can’t I come with you]?” she asks.
The priest replies, “Because you belong to the world and I to my order.”
As Radev comments, “While we were shooting, I stared at her face and her deep
brown eyes. Yes, she had finesse; she was tender with the beauty of a pastille painting. I
secretly consulted Jan about his impressions of Edith. He responded, ‘You can risk it!’.” 86
This is director’s description of the plot.
An age of conflicts, passions, violence, and death is counterbalanced by
the character of Fanny. She impulsively pursues the Monk Eredia, attracted by his
spiritual force and ideological wholeness. Slowly, Fanny realizes that Eredia does
not really serve the suffering and dispossessed. Instead, he manipulates the
Christian ideas thinking only about the salvation of his own soul. Eredia also falls
in love with Fanny after the first day he sees her. He sacrifices Fanny for God
becoming himself a victim of his faith. 87
84 Ibid.
85 Ibid.
86 Ibid., 197.
190

In a way, all protagonists in the film are victims: Fanny, of her destructive passion
and later addiction to morphine; Eredia, of his religion and the several anonymous
crowds portrayed as Republicans, Nationalists, Communists, anarchists, and clergy. The
climax of the film is intense and impressive. Radev decided to shoot the last scene by
showing three processions in Spain after the victory of the fascist regime: a military
parade; a procession carrying the Virgin Mary followed by one of marching monks
belonging to different religious orders and wearing black and red vestments covering
their entire faces. Fanny watches the procession. Her friend Rodero asks her: “Why don’t
you finally leave Spain?” She responds, “Because I await the Day of Judgment.” 88
In its entirety Doomed Souls is an ambitious film, which was surprisingly not an
enormous success, compared to Radev’s previous works. It attracted 2.9 million people to
the theaters. Its music, written by Simeon Sterev, became a hit, similar to that of The
Goat Horn. Radev, however, was unsatisfied with his last work. He hoped to cast big
stars such as Bisset and Volonté but in the end used two Eastern European actors.
Perhaps if he had been able to persuade popular stars from the West to participate, the
film could have been an international success. The failure of Radev to collaborate with
the West demonstrates that within the ideologically tense climate of the Cold War, even
détente had its limits.
Doomed Souls was screened at the prestigious Belgrade festival in 1976, together
with the most successful international films, such as Jaws by Stephen Spielberg, Scenes
from a Marriage (Scener ur ett Äktenskap) (1973) by Ingmar Bergman, The Godfather:
87 Ibid., 198 (author’s translation).
88 Doomed Souls (Oshedeni dushi).
191

Part II (1974) by Francis Ford Coppola, Numéro Deux (1975) by Jean-Luc Godard, One
Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) by Miloš Forman, The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser
(Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle) (1974) by Werner Herzog, and many others. 89
After watching these films, Radev, a festival guest, wrote:
This festival was very interesting. The American cinema was brilliant,
complicated, and complex. The European cinema represented mostly by Italy,
Sweden, France, and Germany, among others, is in the moment at the periphery. I
give a third place to our cinema, the cinema of the countries of the Eastern Bloc
which appear provincial even compared to the Western European films. Well, this
is the reality. When are we going to learn it? And more important, when are we
going to take measures to address our backwardness? I do not believe anymore
that this is possible. 90
The passage above elucidates the low self-esteem of Bulgarian filmmakers and
their deep conviction that, to some extent, the lack of international film prestige was their
own fault. With his grand plan, built around the film Doomed Souls, in shambles, Radev,
indeed, seems to have abandoned his faith in the international success of the Bulgarian
film industry. He made only one more film in 1981, Adaptation (Adaptatziya), for
Bulgarian television. The work explored the life of a woman in a mental institution.
Gueorgui Stoyanov’s A Cricket in the Ear (Shturetz v uhoto) (1976), follows the
exploits of Evtim and Pesho, who decide to leave their native village for the big city.
Loaded down with their belongings, they also carry with them good intentions and
uncertainty. Evtim has parted with his brother after a fight, and Pesho has left without
telling his parents where he is going. The two friends now have the opportunity to see
how colorful life is. They encounter kindness as well as rudeness and selfishness, are
confronted with impressive purity of love as well as with hypocrisy. When a truck finally
89 Radev, 270 (author’s translation).
90 Ibid.
192

stops to pick them up, Pesho decides to stay in the countryside. Evtim leaves with the
driver, but after a few miles, regrets his decision, throws his luggage off the truck and
heads back to Pesho, telling him everything on his mind. When circumstances look
hopeless, Pesho stops another truck and they both jump in. The bright lights of a big city
greet the intrepid pair as they arrive. 91
This film again demonstrates Stoyanov’s insatiable passion for searching and
finding uncommon ways of expression, discovering unknown and fascinating facets of
human personality. As Iskra Bojinova writes:
In A Cricket in the Ear we can discover pieces of truth about the so-called
totalitarian regime. In the film we can see that even then people lived not so bad,
they have worked, loved, borne children. And only few of them sensed the
necessity of freedom and were extremely upset by the social stiffness and
muteness. The characters in the film are good and kind people who accepted the
deformation of their spirit as an indispensible evil, and as “errors of growth.” 92
Manly Times (Mazhki vremena) (1977), is a tale of the proud mountaineer, Banko,
when, once upon a time, the kidnapping of girls was a profession. It was not just any
profession, but one of honor and dignity, taken up only by the worthiest and most
experienced. Banko is such a man. His task is to kidnap the fair Elitsa, taking her to a soft
and weak husband who thinks he can buy anything, including a woman’s love. Banko
and his men carry out the abduction but are shocked to discover that they must interact
with the free-willed and strong virgin who knows with whom she is dealing. She asks
Banko to stay with him rather than to go to the “loser” who ordered the kidnapping.
91 A Cricket in the Ear (Shturetz v uhoto), writ. Nikola Rusev, dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov, perf.
Stefan Mavrodiyev, Pavel Papandov, Itzhak Finzi, and Tatyana Lolova, Boyana Film, 1976;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 216–217.
92 Iskra Bozhinova, “Koleloto na Istoriata Sevurtia i nie z Nego” (The Wheel of History
Turns but It also Turns Us All), Kultura (Culture), 1996. 116 (author’s translation).
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Banko’s heart shivers with pain, sadness, and love. However, honor conquers all, and he
refuses the opportunity to be happy. Soon destiny forces Banko to fight for Elitsa. He
meets the bullet, happy that he loves and is loved. 93
This film has also a feminist appeal because the protagonist is a woman who
refuses to be a victim. Zahariev was deeply committed to creating a dominant female
character. Actress Mariana Dimitrova, who played Elitsa and who, after this film,
became the wife of Zahariev, received several awards for her performance.
As Zahariev states in an interview:
I have a very romantic and poetic relationship with the heroines of all my
films. My female protagonists are not real but rather imagined. A woman is one of
the greatest mysteries of life. Of course every human being is a mystery but
women are gifted with additional mystic and magic. The magic of a woman is like
the magic of art. I was always in a way afraid of women because I could not
understand them, but Mariana helped me to overcome my fears. 94
This film, in which nature seems alive, evokes nostalgia for the past as well. The long
shots of the mountain highlighting its rough beauty make it one of the protagonists.
The main characters in the 1977 film Matriarchate (Matriarhat) are the female
villagers of Yugla. The women work, have fun, and enjoy a wonderful sense of solidarity.
Their day-to-day lives are not easy. Lonely, they labor in both fields and homes,
quarreling with each other as much as helping one another. Each woman has her own
personal drama. Old Yordanka, whose son is professor, has chosen to await death alone.
Ganeta's husband wants her to seduce an auditor in the hope that the embezzlement for
which he is eventually imprisoned will not be detected. Sometime later she is forced into
93 Manly Times (Mazhki vremena), writ. Nikolai Haitov, dir. Edouard Zahariev, perf.
Mariana Dimitrova, Grigor Vachkov, Velko Kynev, and Pavel Popandov, Boyana Film, 1977;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 252–253.
94 Novini (News), 29 Apr. 1991, issue 4 (author’s translation).
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sex and suffers under the burden of her exposed “sin.” Stipana, for her part, finds her
only solace in the brandy she distills at home. And Zhela, just like Yordanka, faces a
lonely old age. Tana despises her husband for being unable to arrange their departure to
the nearby city. Still, these women proudly carry the burden of their destiny. 95
Matriarchate is a film about the rupture of family ties and the characters' deep-
rooted love for their simple life close to nature. This film received excellent reviews and
had enormous success at the 50 th Festival of Bulgarian Film in Varna. The Russian
cineaste Alexander Karaganov wrote:
I am in love with this movie. Matriarchate is not only a film about the
peasant life. The major theme of the film is the women, who carry on their
shoulders “the strong sex.” They deal with the rough reality of the peasant life
and bear the burden of all discomforts connected to it. The men are gone. They
have left the village become “people with bags.” This film reflects perfectly the
phenomenon of “feminization” which we are encountering today across the East/
West divide. The actresses are very organic in their performance and have
merged completely with the characters that they play. 96
The Swimming Pool (Baseynat) (1977) is a film that can join the cycle of films in
the 1970s devoted to the complexity of the intergenerational relationships. The film
begins with the arrival of the long anticipated prom night, as Bella nervously awaits her
late date to arrive. When the boy does so, Bella, who is sensitive and quite upset, realizes
he had completely forgotten about her and the special evening. After the prom, she does
not go home but heads to the park pool’s diving tower, where she meets Apostol, a
middle-aged former Nazi-fighter and talented architect with many incomplete projects.
95 Matriarchate (Matriarhat), dir. Lyudmil Kirkov, writ. Georgi Mishev, perf. Nevena
Kokanova, Katya Paskaleva, Katya Chukova, and Milka Tuykova, Boyana Film, 1977;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 248–249; Georgi Djulgerov, review of Matriarchate (Boyana Film) [online];
accessed 26 Apr. 2010; available from http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0277827.
96 Filmovi Novini (Film News), Dec. 1978, 3 (author’s translation).
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She finds him attractive and repulsive at the same time. As an odd act of defiance, Bella
jumps into the pool without knowing how to swim and is rescued by Apostol, who takes
her home. On the way, they meet Apostol’s young actor friend Bufo, an unsuccessful
actor with great talent at being a good friend. Bella must choose between the two.
From Apostol, Bella gradually learns to appreciate the most important aspects of
life, but logic forces her to marry Bufo, who is younger and more vibrant. The three
friends take a picture, symbolizing the untold lessons connecting the generations. 97 The
director Zhelyazkova received the prize for best filmmaker at the film festival in Varna. 98
Advantage (Avantazh) (1977) is an extraordinary and ambitious oeuvre based on
the real story of social outcast and recidivist, Lazar Kasabov, nicknamed “The Rooster.”
He is a multiple-felony pickpocket with his own code of ethics—he never steals from
women. Born in 1918, he ends up in prison in 1933, where he then spends most of the
remainder of his life. All his attempts to find his place in society are in vain. Through
retrospections, the protagonist operates in various guises, but two principles always clash
in him: to live on what belongs to others or what he has appropriated —that is, “the
advantage” —or to try to find a humane and dignified existence depending only on what
he can acquire honestly. His recollections build an image of a man with complex
character, talent, and abilities, but also of an individual that never did anything that
society deemed right.
97 The Swimming Pool (Baseynat), writ. Christo Ganev, dir. Binka Zhelyazkova, perf. Kosta
Tsonev, Yanina Kasheva, Kliment Denchev, and Tzvetana Maneva, Boyana Film, 1977;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 258–259.
98 Filmovi Novini (Film News), Dec. 1978, 3.
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“The Rooster” is the king of pickpockets. At stations, on trains, trams, and streets,
he skillfully pilfers wallets or purses, living like a Bohemian, drinking, meeting pals, and
even taking part in Komsomol brigades. He is artistic, gifted with special inner nobility
not indifferent to spiritual beauty, but at the same time, he yields to the temptation of
ruling his kingdom of pickpockets, feeling free outside of social and labor norms. We
follow his life from 1944 to the end of the 1960s, during which he meets a girl named
Zhela, who helps him learn the pickpocket trade. His real love, however, is Rumyana,
who is a prostitute with an illegitimate child. When “The Rooster” finally decides to
redeem his life, he dies at the hand of another prisoner with whom he plotted an escape
but, in so doing, saves the life of another innocent man.
There are many variants of his death, but the authors will impose on us the
suggestion of a doom which will lead the character into “the clear,” the death of a real,
great, and honest man. Perhaps, given a new chance, he could have been capable of living
honestly, yet two warring principles in a character that lives on the boundary line
between what is human and what is anti-human, is a recipe for disaster. According to
critic Ivan Stoyanovich
the film is a rare synthesis of the creative impulse, emotional
expressiveness and authenticity. The protagonist seems to collapse from a
dreamlike existence to the grim reality of the prison, which in many ways
dehumanizes and leads to the digression of the human individual. We cannot
ignore here the amazing skills of cameraman Radoslav Spasov and the nuanced
performance of actor and scriptwriter Rusi Chanev. 99
As Djulgerov comments in an interview, the search for authenticity led him to
write the film’s script, which is based on a real story documented by Petko Sdravkov,
99 Otechestven Front (Home Front), 11 Oct. 1977, no. 10153 (author’s translation).
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called One Prosecutor Retells (Edin prokuror paskazva). Before writing the script,
Djulgerov and Chanev visited three prisons in major Bulgarian cities and collected five
hundred pages of stories told by inmates, protocols with questionnaires, and interviews
with prison guards, members of the militia, and the wife of the person who was the
inspiration behind the character of “The Rooster.” Eighty percent of the script is based on
real stories and incidents. In the words of film critic Vladimir Ignatovski, the film is a
“massive dramatized document, in which the documental spreads through all cells of the
film.” 100
Djulgerov was well-known among the Bulgarian cineastes for his meticulousness
and passion when he was working on a film project. As film critic Ignatovski comments:
We do not even think of asking why Djulgerov takes so long to make a
film. In order to understand the months and years that pass, we need to recognize
Georgi’s stubborn, ambitioius nature. All of his friends have encountered his
constant insistence and requests upon them to read his scripts and listen to his
ideas between works…Djulgerov shoots relatively little, but the results are so
impressive. In his films there is not even one pointless episode. 101
Many of the episodes in Advantage are documentary, most prominently the scene with
the prisoners of the Lovech prison. Advantage is a very original portrayal of Bulgaria in
the 1950s. In fact, the viewer encounters Bulgaria through the life of a thief. 102
No one before in the film industry had explored the reasons leading an intelligent
and sensitive person to the world of crime. The author has analyzed the sinister
intoxication, drama, and tragedy of criminal life. Asked why so much of the film takes
place in the prison, Djulgerov answers
100 Vladimir Ignatovski, “Avantazh” (Advantage), Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art), Oct. 1977, 45.
101 Ibid (author’s translation).
102 Vecherni Novini (Evening News), n.d., 1977.
198

this is necessary. In prison, the Rooster remembers his entire life…We
filmed this part of the story strictly trying to structure the film as a documentary.
We wanted to give the spectator the taste of remembering the past. By
counterbalancing the two narratives, past and present, we tried to understand the
destiny of the hero on a more profound level. 103
Asked about his aesthetic aspirations in making the film, Djulgerov answered
boldly that he rejected the didactic as a function or even prerequisite of a film.
The film has in a way an aesthetic and not ethical function. It shapes the
thoughts, it influences the feelings I think that the modern film viewer tends to
break the prism through well- intended irony, through laughter and achieves
catharsis in this way. In our times, the positive hero in his classical and one-
dimensional characteristics of perfection cannot be a role model. As a result of
the actions of the hero, questions and thoughts need to emerge. 104
The film leaves the spectator with a regret at the vain expending of unusual
human energy and a talent which has gone unrealized and which could have been
directed toward a socio-humane activity. 105
103 Otechestven Front (Home Front), 8 Oct. 1977, no. 10150 (author’s translation).
104 Narodna Mladej (Popular Youth), 10 Oct. 1977, issue 250 (author’s translation).
105 Advantage (Avantazh), writ. Georgi Djulgerov and Rusi Chanev, dir. Georgi Djulgerov,
perf. Rusi Chanev, Maria Statoulova, Plamena Getova, Plamen Donchev, Boyana Film, 1977;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 264-265. Georgi Djulgerov (born 1943 in Bourgas). Upon winning a prize at
the Oberhausen Short Film Festival for his VGIK diploma film, The Cooper (Bondar) (1969),
Djulgerov returned home and shot the same story by Nikolai Haitov in the author’s native
Rhodope Mountains (the Moscow Film School version had been shot in Armenia). The remake,
The Test (Izpit) (1971), appeared as a film-novella together with Milen Nikolev’s Haitov
adaptation, Naked Conscience (Gola savest) (1970), in the two-part feature film Colorful World
(Sharen svyat) (1971). The young director then made a feature film on the “lost generation”
during the resistance movement, …And the Day Came (I doide denyat) (1973), based on a
screenplay and the personal experiences of Vasil Akiov.
After working for a time in television, he won the prize for direction at the Berlin festival for
Advantage (Avantazh) (1977). His next film, Swap (Trampa) (1978), continued his aesthetic and
sociopolitical research into the same period, that of the Personality Cult. Djulgerov crowned these
achievements with the spectacular three-part Measure against Measure (Mera spored mera)
(1981), set in Greek Macedonia at the time of the Ilinden Uprising of 1903. As a teacher at the
Sofia Film Academy, he, with his cameraman Radoslav Spassov, has molded a new generation of
filmmakers. Djulgerov is the artistic manager of the “Suvremenik” [Contemporary] Film Unit.
Holloway, 72–73.
199

Swap (Trampa) (1978) is another masterpiece by Djulgerov. The film opens with
a scene showing the Communist propaganda poet Dobrin Iliev waking up in an empty
room, covered from head to toe with propaganda posters. The room’s walls are
overloaded with posters as well. Further, we follow the writer as he arrives in a small
provincial town where he is invited as a judge for an artistic festival at the local
gymnasium. Here he meets a girl named Maya, a divorced high school student who
hopes, with the help of Iliev, to become a journalist. 106
Maya, tantalizing because she is mysterious, is freedom-loving, angry and
intelligent. 107 She wears jeans, chews gum, and listens to Gershwin. As she states: “I live,
I make love, I paint under the influence of jazz, I amuse myself, and I think about
death…I want to live in France. I read Maupassant and I became unhappy. I want to live
among people like him.” 108
Gradually, Iliev falls in love with Maya. His emotional connection to the young
girl causes him to remember his past. As a soldier, he wrote a very popular poem, and
among letters that he received back then was one from little Katya. After years of
working as a journalist, Iliev went to Katya’s city, Bourgas to find her. Katya, still a high
school student, enthusiastically helped him complete his work. Being invited by Katya’s
parents to their bourgeois-looking house, Iliev was shocked to discover that the family
lived such a privileged and wealthy existence under Communism. In Katya’s house, he
was seduced by Aunt Nastya, who listens to Western radio stations, carelessly
106 Swap (Trampa), writ. Vladimir Ganev and Georgi Djulgerov, dir. Georgi Djulgerov, perf.
Ilia Dobrev, Tanya Shahova, Margarita Pehlivanova, and Jana Mircheva, Boyana Film, 1978.
107 Ibid.
108 Ibid.
200

swallowing mysterious pills, and wearing a cross around her neck. The Communist poet,
stunned, asked: “Do you believe in God?” Nastya replied: “I believe in nothing.” Iliev
then asked: “Then why are you wearing that cross?” She answered: “Because I believe in
death.” 109
The flashback story continues with Katya and Iliev traveling to a remote village
and staying there overnight, where, after quarreling with villagers, the poet and the high
school girl kiss passionately in front of a fire. This episode ends with Katya, wearing a
white dress and clutching a bouquet of flowers, waving farewell to Iliev, whose train is
departing from the station.
Seventeen years later he is returning to town again. Now, Katya has a daughter,
Maya, who also writes poetry for contests and who hopes for Iliev’s help. She is keenly
aware that Iliev knows her mother from some past experience. Maya promises to
propmote her friend Petya, played by the then-popular teenage poet Petya Dubarova, who
is a much better writer. Instead of helping, Maya proudly presents Petya’s poems as her
own to Iliev. Maya wins first prize, but at the end of the ceremony, Petya exposes the
deceit by reciting her poem. The film ends when Iliev, again alone, leaves the little town
for a second time. 110
In an interview, Djulgerov described the reigning mood during filmmaking. “We
had fever, we were in love, we were happy, it wasn’t such a bad time…Every night we
pondered what we were going to do on the next day.” 111 The film explores the
109 Ibid.
110 Gencheva, vol. 3, 310–311.
111 Georgi Djulgerov, interview with author, 30 Jul., 2007.
201

subversive identity formation of the new generation of the 1970s. In the sequence of the
film about the present, two themes counterbalance each other: the rock and roll, freedom,
and sex-loving teenage culture versus the grim reality of the socialist schools which were
notorious for their strictness, oppressive character, and disciplinary measures.
Here is a poem from the works of the young Petya Dubarova. Just a year after her
performance in Swap, on December 4, 1979, at the age of seventeen, she committed
suicide, most likely a result of severe disciplinary measures taken against her at school:
Saturdays
On Saturdays I'm unappreciated -
wild, flexible, and lively as a lynx.
And tiredness, having turned into a whim,
vacates me like a wound - healed up and faded.
School totally collapses in my mind
and I am far from registers and blackboards.
A hundred thousand rivers run towards me,
tints, hues, and rainbows fill my eyes,
and I get rhythms from those gipsy women.
I'm very, very strong - a vine in spring,
and I turn my guitar into a tear;
I never ask questions, never listen.
On Saturdays I'm unappreciated -
wild, flexible, and lively as a lynx.
202

And fear, sorrow, tiredness or whims
vacate me like a wound - healed up and faded.
And I'm not even sure who I am.
But when I put on Monday's uniform -
that blackboard-tunic once again,
I turn into a good girl as before. 112
These verses illustrate very well what Djulgerov was trying to capture in the film,
namely the double life of Bulgarian youth under Communism.
For Djulgerov, Swap means a compromise. People living under Communism
compromised their identities, but the tragic outcome of their sacrifices was that they,
ironically, did not gain anything in exchange or “swap.” Iliev’s memories recall his
youth, during which he had compromised many significant beliefs in exchange for career
success under Communism. His recollections from the past are neither happy nor sad;
they are lifeless and barren, like the memories of somebody who had never lived. He
112 Petya Dubarova, ”Saturdays,” Virtual Library of Bulgarian Literature “Slovoto” [online
poem]; accessed 12 May 2010; available from http://www.slovo.bg/old/f/en/dubarova/saturday
.htm; “Petya Dubarova – The Infant Poet,” The In Your Pocket Guide [online city guide];
accessed 12 May 2010; available from http://www.inyourpocket.com/bulgaria/Burgas/Petya-
Dubarova--the-infant-poet-70561f?more=1; Christopher Buxton, “Cheated Youth,” [online
posting]; accessed 12 May 2010; available from http://www.christopherbuxton.com/
In_ memoriam_Petya_Dubarova %5B1%5D.htm; Petya Doubarova’s suicide made her an icon of
the 1970s protest generation against the oppressive character of the Communist school system.
Allegedly during the compulsory weekly work practice class based in the local State Brewery,
Petya had stopped the entire production line by deliberately placing a match in the gears of the
conveyor belt. The school administrators took this event seriously, and in the weekly teachers’
meeting, Petya’s behavior mark was reduced. Throughout the Cold War years into the 1970s, it
was still an extraordinary aspect of the Bulgarian education system that individual teachers’
marks for academic ability and collective marks for behavior were the most influential factors in
determining students’ progress into higher education. The day before committing suicide,
Dubarova wrote: “Cheated. Youth. Forgiveness. Dream. Memory. Behind the Walls of the Big
House. Secret!”
203

knows the qualities of good poetry and is aware that he has created propaganda verses
simply in order to make career. On the other hand, in the small city, the conformist Iliev
encounters a younger generation that is no longer willing to “play the game.” The 1970s
generation did not want to spend their entire lives under an oppressive regime and their
and restlessness and anger are very well highlighted in the film.
The film Swap is a loosely-adapted screen interpretation of two narratives, Three
Encounters (Tri sresti) and Confused Notes (Oburkvasti belejki), by the Bulgarian writer
Ivailo Petrov. Their focal point, similar to that of the film, is the meeting between the
Sofia-based writer Dobrin Iliev, a representative of the generation that participated in the
construction of socialism in Bulgaria, and the pupil Maya, who has certain reasons for
believing that she is his daughter. In his interpretation of Petrov’s text, Djulgerov
suggests a sexual encounter between Iliev and Maya’s mother which could have resulted
in Maya’s conception, and, at the same time, hints at possible incestuous sexual
intercourse between Dobrin and Maya, yet, the director does not definitively answer
whether the romance between the middle-aged Dobrin and the teenage Maya should be
viewed as such. The relationship between Dobrin and Maya mirrors the encounter
between two very dissimilar generations, highlighting the rebellious temper of 1970s
Communist youth. The older generation, as represented by Iliev, is portrayed as passive,
inwardly depressed, and lacking the will to live. In the film’s climax, after implicitly
having sex, Iliev and Maya part.
Swap was highly praised by international critics but it received little attention and
analysis from the Bulgarian press. The story, however, is very intriguing and has many
more dimensions than simply the relationship between time and space and the clash
204

etween the two generations. For example, the film is overfilled with subversive codes,
and it is very surprising that it was not censored. Djulgerov did face only some modest
criticism from the contemporary press for having an ambiguous relationship towards his
hero. 113
Georgi Djulgerov liked to work with unknown and amateur actors. As film critic
Ignatovski commented, “He is in love with unknown faces.” 114 In this work, the director
discovered the new actress Tanja Shahova who played Maya. As the author states, “we
all, the scriptwriter Vladimir Ganev, me, and the cameraman Radoslav Spasov allowed
ourselves the largest degree of improvisation possible.” 115 If, indeed, the filmmakers had
spontaneously created this masterpiece, the results of their efforts are astonishing.
With Love and Tenderness (S lyubov i nezhnost) (1978), recounts the story of the
sculptor Hristo, who spends years working on his masterpiece – an enormous metal
construction representing the spirit of the modern era. He lives far away from the hustle
and bustle in a self-imposed exile by the sea. His difficult and lonely existence impacts
Lote – the loving and long-suffering artist’s wife, despite the help of the fishermen of the
village who give money and objects to the couple. Everyone’s life goes by calmly. While
Lote cares for daily chores, Hristo spends endless nights deliberating and thinking. The
enormous sculpture grows by the day. One morning, guests arrive from the capital. They
want to buy the unfinished piece of art at any price. The moment is dramatic. The artist
wants to finish what he has started, but he faces Lote’s sad eyes. She knows he is
113 Filmovi Novini (Film News), Jun. 1979, 4–5.
114 “Avantazh” (Advantage), Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art), Oct. 1977, 45.
115 Filmovi Novini (Film News), Jun. 1979, 5.
205

possessed by the piece and will never finish it. Hristo cannot decide. Finally, with pain
and suffering, Hristo gives his creation away. This is another stylistically accomplished
and philosophical work which discusses the relationship between art and life and the
inability to unite them. 116
In The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (Lachenite obuvki na neznayniya
voin), 1979, the main character is its director, Rangel Vulchanov, who observes the
changing of the guard in front of Buckingham Palace, an event that draws him into
childhood memories. The plot follows two timelines —one narrative arc during the
present and the other set during childhood. The first scene opens up with nude boys
playfully splashing in the waters of a village lake. One of them is the seven-year-old
Mone from whose perspective we see the world. 117 In the second scene, peasants try to
catch with their hands dying fish in an obviously polluted lake. The huge quantities of
fish are brought by a donkey cart to the village. After having brought the fish, the
peasants discover that they are rotten, something that is already obvious to the viewers.
The scene ends with the peasants throwing their entire daily catch on the village’s main
thoroughfare. During that night, homeless dogs prowl the street, feasting.
This is a deeply personal film in which the director goes back to his own
childhood in order to show us a bizarre world made up of real-life images and the
116 With Love and Tenderness (S lyubov i nezhnost), dir. Rangel Vulchanov, writ. Valeri
Petrov, perf. Alexander Dyakov, Tsvetana Eneva, Gergana Gerassimova, and Yevgeniya
Barakova, Boyana Film, 1978; Gencheva, vol. 3, 290–291.
117 The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (Lachenite obuvki na neznaniniya voin),
dir. and writ. Rangel Vulchanov, perf. Slavka Ankova, Emiliya Myrynska, Ivan Stoychev, and
Borislav Tsankov, Boyana Film, 1979; Gencheva, vol. 2, 326-327; Georgi Djulgerov, plot
summary of The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (Boyana Film) [online]; accessed 12
May 2010; available from http://www.imdb.com/title/ tt0079447/plotsummary.
206

fantasies of a child. Though essentially introspective, the film is much more of a
philosophical speculation, in terms of various images and apparitions, about the spiritual
traditions of the Bulgarian people and the peculiarities of a national character shaped by
specific historical events. The central scene shows a riotous village wedding, in which a
“White Aunt” is being married to a “Black Uncle.” To the mind of the child, these are
two dichotomous images that evolve into summary symbols of the beautiful and the ugly,
the sublime and the deformed, and the refined and the primitive in the spiritual heritage
of the nation.
Mone imagines being a girl. We see him dressed as a bride. Suddenly, fire
devastates the entire house in which Mone is living with his hundred relatives. The house
is set alight by Mone’s grandmother, who is mentally disturbed and wants to revenge
herself against Mone’s grandfather for constantly impregnating her, making her give birth
to so many children and then abandoning her to fight in the Great War. Everybody burns
except Mone and his grandfather, who is devastated and, grieving the loss of his family,
lies down in a coffin to die; through the child’s eyes, we witness him becoming smaller
and smaller until the child is left alone. 118
Mone’s beautiful aunt also burns to death but then is reincarnated as a white bird.
Besides the wedding, several funerals, and the burning of the house, we are presented
with a kaleidoscopic picture of a harvest, war, floods, and hot summer days, childbirth,
the death of centenarians, and the life after death. The style of the narration, magical
realism, is reminiscent of the atmosphere in the famous novel of Gabriel Gárcia Márquez
118 Grozev, 137–147.
207

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad). It also evokes associations with
the films of Fellini.
As Alexander Grozev comments: “While Mone’s presence dominates the screen,
the voice-over commentary is delivered by the director’s mature voice, this establishing
an uninterrupted intimate link between the various dimensions of the protagonist: child,
adolescent, and adult.” 119
This film is a magical and philosophical parable rendered in quasi-verity terms:
the cast includes no professional actors. The raw surface cannot hide the inner intensity
of the peasant mentality. While the village is represented as picturesque and pristine, but
the peasants are portrayed as primitive and often hideous people who are moved entirely
by rituals, not emotions. Mone hears his mother screaming at him that she hates him. The
little boy has no feelings for his numerous family members except sympathy for his
grandfather and admiration for his aunt-to-be. Mone encounters several times his
disturbed grandmother, who is gathering herbs in the forest which she “sells” back in the
village for empty bottles. Mone witnesses the first wedding night of his uncle in which
his aunt loses her virginity.
After the first sexual act with his wife, performing an ancient Bulgarian custom,
the repulsive uncle comes out of the house, shoots in the air, and proudly displays the
bloody sheet as a proof of his bride’s virginity. The villagers then light a fire, form a
circle, and start dancing, waving the sheet as a flag. The bride, looking pale, scared, and
sad, is forced to join the ritual dance. The boy is in tears. During the entire film, the
119 Ibid., 139.
208

protagonists express their attitude toward the surrounding reality in folk songs. The film
ends with Mone, lying naked on the ground, after finally having buried his grandfather.
With exception of the local fool and the ghost of the grandmother, the village is
empty. At the end of the movie, the middle-aged director seems to wake from a dream
amid the crowds in front of Buckingham Palace. In this film, we encounter what,
according to Pierre Sorlin, Freud calls “the return of the repressed.” 120
Commenting further, Sorlin explores the encounter with the Nazi past in German
cinema between the 1970s and 1980s.
It [the German cinema] asserted that beneath a seemingly coherent
evolution the world is doomed to variability and unevenness and that the most
dreadful periods of the past are those which have the most lasting effects. Freud
thought of the brutal irrepressible eruption into consciousness of unacceptable
feelings or recorded memories buried deep into the unconscious “the return of the
repressed.” 121
As a synthetic art, cinema is uniquely suited to being able to intensely
communicate the horror related to the past. The 1970s were a decade in which many
films were produced in Europe, dealing primarily with issues such as memory,
repression, and history. In Vulchanov’s film, we encounter the manifestation of
repressed trauma in a very personal way when a man remembers the sad and hurtful
events of his childhood in a remote Balkan village.
All is Love (Vsichko e lyubov) (1979), is the story of Rado, a “difficult boy,” who
has spent most of his life in juvenile prison. He lives in a high security facility. When
existence gets difficult for him, he runs away. During one of his escapes, he goes to
Sofia, where his relatives, who consider him a delinquent, refuse to help him. His gypsy
120 Sorlin, 186.
121 Ibid.
209

friend takes him to a party where he meets Albena, a pretty girl from a respectable
family. The two fall in love because Albena is the first person who really trusts him.
Albena’ feelings transform Rado, making him ready to serve his remaining jail sentence
and afterwards start living respectably. Albena’s parents try everything to derail the
relationship. When Albena’s mother finds out that her daughter is pregnant, she decides
that her daughter is to get an abortion and end the romance. Rado senses something is
wrong and runs away from the facility, enduring great difficulties in the winter cold as he
makes his way to the capital; it is too late. A doctor friend has conducted an illegal
abortion without Albena’s consent. She is psychologically and physically exhausted,
leaving her no other choice than to obey her mother, who calls the militia to apprehend
the fugitive freezing at her front door. 122
Together with Swap, this film is another work that deals with 1970s teenagers.
We encounter freedom-loving and independent young people who lead very sexually-
mature lives. Long-term relationships, as a German scientist comments in the
documentary Do Communists Have Better Sex? (Liebte der Osten anders? Sex im
geteilten Deutschland ) 123 , was characteristic of Eastern Bloc youth. All is Love enjoyed
enormous success, drawing 1,817,110 people to the theaters. 124
Love Game (Igra na lyubov), 1980, is a film about people in love in their late 20s
and 30s. The film is a clever twist on the story of Cyrano de Bergerac. Lyubo is an actor
122 All is Love (Vsichko e lyubov), writ. Boyan Papasov, dir. Borislav Sharaliev, perf. Ivan
Ivanov, Yanina Kasheva, Valcho Kamarashev, and Ibish Orhanov, Boyana Film, 1979;
Gencheva, vol. 3, 346–347.
123 Do Communists Have Better Sex? (Liebte der Osten anders? Sex im geteilten
Deutschland), dir. André Meier, First Run / Icarus Films, 2006.
124 Janakiev, 305.
210

in a provincial theater, and Lily is a pianist, whose focus is her students at music school.
The telephone is the third player, and this electronic device manages to assert itself even
where there is no need for a third. For Lyubo, the theater is everything, though his
quotidian life is not without troubles. He prepares for his dream role as Cyrano, but his
understudy is chosen to play at the premiere. Lyubo falls in love with Lily, but she rejects
him. Accidentally, while dialing his phone, he calls her number, but then begins calling
her every day, disguising his voice, presenting himself as somebody else. They have
beautiful conversations and Lily finds herself waiting for his call each day even though
Lyubo is just a voice to her. The culmination comes just as in Rostand’s play: The two
arrange to meet, but Lyubo gets scared at the last minute and sends his friend, the
unscrupulous Bobby. Lyubo can say just as Cyrano, “On his lips, my voice.”
Predictably, the one who triumphs is not the one Lily loves, though Love has not
happened; it remains trapped in the phone receiver. 125
Another interesting film about the complexity of human relationships is
Stoyanov’s The Window (Prozoretzat), 1980. This movie, a small film with just five
actors, was based on the popular theater play, The Window (Prozoretzat), by Konstantin
Iliev. The film opens by introducing us to Phillip and Rositsca. We learn that Phillip is
married to Rositsca but has a child with Marta. Rositsca adopts the child, but she can
keep neither it nor her husband. Phillip takes the child and moves to an attic where Marta
lives. We become acquainted with the characters when Rositsca comes to fetch the child,
since she wants to care for it. In the quarrel over the child, the landlords get involved, and
125 Love Game (Igra na lyubov), writ. Vladimir Ganev and Yordan Hadzhiev, dir. Yanush
Vazov, perf. Lyuben Chatalov, Yordanka Lyubenova, Bistra Marcheva, and Rumyana
Gaytandzhieva, Boyana Film, 1980; Gencheva, vol. 3, 348–349.
211

as the anger escalates, accusations, terse confessions, cutting remarks, and surprising
realizations fly. During the hubbub, the child remains silent in another room, suggesting
that everyone has forgotten about him. From the at-odds conversations, it is apparent that
no one recognizes his or her own faults nor has analyzed the ramifications of his or her
actions. Instead, in order for them to deny their vulnerability, they a have adopted
behavioral styles that are not part of their human nature. They have lost their essence. 126
The film offers a glimpse into the complicated family life under Communism and
the difficulties inherent in raising children. As Iskra Bozhinova writes:
The elite groups of pseudo-parents forget the infant because when the
adults get together they indulge in shameful digging of their past . . . On the wider
level the film demonstrates the persistency of vision of this interesting and little
appreciated from the public filmmakers who, as usual apply the grotesque and
absurd through the most subtle sounds of irony. Stoyanov’s irony expands the
meaning of the visible, giving it an unexpected volume and depth, referring the
reality to conceptual heights. 127
As the director put it, “The Window sounds tragicomic. It is about people at the
crossroads, who constantly question their reality and want to shield their own opinions.”
As with other Stoyanov films, the movie was not a box office hit, attracting barely
260,000 viewers. At least the critics gave it kind reviews, calling it “meditation about the
meaning and purpose of a fulfilled existence.” 128
126 The Window (Prozoretzat), writ. Konstantin Iliev and Petar Karaangov, dir. Gueorgui
Stoyanov, perf. Leda Taseva, Antony Genov, Dobrinka Stankova, and Velko Kynev, Boyana
Film, 1980; Gencheva, vol. 3, 374–375.
127 Iskra Bozhinova, “Koleloto na Istoriata Sevurtia i nie z Nego” (The Wheel of History
Turns but It also Turns Us All), Kultura (Culture), 1996, 117 (author’s translation).
128 Alexander Alexandrov, “Estetite go Tsenyat, Zritelite go Pochitat” (The Aesthets
Appreciate Him, The Public Respects Him), Profili (Profile), 15-21 Oct. 1996, issue 33, 11.
212

Cultural Significance of the Films of the 1970s.
Only those who are mythic are realistic and only those who are realistic
are mythic. 129
–Pier Paolo Pasolini
Similar to the 1960s, the 1970s started with the feeling of positive change and
great anticipations in the film world. 130 The filmmakers in this decade were already
openly engaged with depicting the universal problems inherent in being human. In
addition, the introspective and psychological aspects of films were further developed. 131
The films that were made in the 1970s sought, in a more intense fashion than
ever, a dialogue with the public. As a result, some films, such as The Goat Horn, Doomed
Souls, and All is Love became box office hits, but in general, all movies failed to attract
the anticipated numbers of viewers. Despite the fact that many cineastes still looked to
the past in choosing their plots, for the first time, the present became of central interest to
Bulgarian filmmakers. 132 The modern themes very often played in big cities, because
during the 1970s, already seventy percent of the Bulgarian population was concentrated
in urban areas. 133 Many films started dealing with the theme of migration and the
psychological impact of the transition from the rural to the urban. Filmmakers depicted
the dramatic consequences of urbanization and industrialization on the rural village, such
129
Pier Paolo Pasolini, writ and dir., Medea, with Maria Callas and Massimo Girotti, Euro-
International / Janus, 1969.
130 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 3, 1985.
131 Especially good examples are the films of Georgi Djulgerov.
132 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 209, list 4, 1985.
133 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 9, 1985.
213

as in Last Summer. The image of the big city penetrated popular culture not only through
film but also through radio and television. Often, filmmakers structured their narratives in
a two-dimensional way to manifest the disappearing rural village theme.
For example, the present is penetrated by the past in the form of protagonist
memories, as we see in Swap and The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes. The
multidimensionality of cinematic representation intensified the individuality and
complexity of the protagonist. Since the coexistence of the urban and rural remained
impossible, most works of the period end in a disturbing dissonance. The notion of a
symbolic “thelos” of a film is completely abandoned. Similar to films of the previous
decade, some films end with death or suicide— Advantage, The Goat Horn, and Manly
Times being prime examples.
Another interesting aspect of film representation of the process of adaptation to
urban life is the theme of “in-between-ness” of the hero, who is trapped in a purgatory-
like location between past and present, parochial and modern, Ottoman and Bulgarian.
The protagonists are often confused, dislocated, and neurotic losers and misfits who
become victims of a reality that they cannot control, despite their strong potentials and
presence. This trend is evident in Advantage, Love Game, Panteley, and Swap.
The major clash in the films is between the traditional and the feelings of the
protagonist. One reading of the The Goat Horn (Koziyat rog) suggests that the patriarchal
code, marked as the duty of vengeance, dominates and damages the protagonists. In
Manly Times (Mazhki vremena), the honor of Banko clashes with his feelings and damns
him to loneliness and self- destruction. 134 Tradition opposes the feelings and desires of
134 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 13, 1985.
214

the protagonists and smashes them. In the end, the heroes refuse to live, losing their taste
for life, as evidenced in The Goat Horn, Manly Times and Last Summer. On another
level, the Communist becomes synonymous with an aspect of the patriarchal and
traditional, exemplified by the lack of free choice and by the complete abandonment of
the individual for the communal, as witnessed in The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather
Shoes and Swap.
In the films of the 1970s, the patriarchal universe has lost its wholeness,
sacredness and protective functions, but it has still preserved an array of vital elements. 135
The collision between the old and the new, the individual, and the communal does not
result in a synthesis because the individual is not ready (or free) to make the transition.
This again leads to the creation of the tragic hero functioning behind the disguise of the
antihero, loser, or victim. 136 The Communist Party pressured filmmakers in the 1970s
about the issue of national identity. The Party saw in this decade a creation of strong
national consciousness as an instrument to cement its power. The question that occupied
many cineastes was how to establish a national cinema in a period of economic transition
in which some of the most important Bulgarian characteristics were destroyed.
In 1984, critic Znepolski believed to have found the answer in the films of Georgi
Djulgerov – Advantage and Swap, and in the films of Rangel Vulchanov – With Love and
Tenderness (S lyubov i nezhnost) and The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes
(Lachenite obuvki na neznayniya voin). These films, according to the critic, had
synchronized the traditional with the modern, bringing them together under the umbrella
135 Ibid.
136 For Znepolski, this is his “code” for Communism.
215

of the national. 137
Defining national consciousness within a Bulgarian context was not an easy task.
On the question of how does one define the national in the arts, director Djulgerov
responds by describing his debut film, The Cooper (Bondar) (1969). While studying at
VGIK in Moscow, he decided to base his plot on a well-known novella by the Bulgarian
writer Nikolai Haitov. In order to create Bulgarian atmosphere in the Soviet Union, he
used Armenian actors, dressing them in Bulgarian national costumes. 138
As Djulgerov expressed in an interview with Iskra Dimitrova:
The national is not in the rituals and not even in the folklore of a
particular country but in the way a human reacts to the world and communicates
with others. For example, a Russian is historically prepared to move within the
space of the huge Russian country. The Bulgarian, historically and due to the
mountainous terrain which makes migration difficult, was used to staying for
centuries on the same small piece of land. This relationship to the perception of
space, not in metaphysical but in purely geographic terms, has marked Bulgarian
national consciousness. The changes in the psyche that come due to changes
shape our reaction to them and mark the national consciousness. 139
The Bulgarian cinema in the 1970s presented a very sophisticated and nuanced
representation of a national consciousness, as an entity which was fluid, constantly
evolving, insecure, and resisting a single definition. As represented in the films of
Andonov, Christov, Zahariev, Vulchanov and Djulgerov, the national had its roots in the
mythical past and as well in the present which determined the way one imagined it. First
in the 1980s, we will see films which depict history in a one-dimensional manner. But in
the 1970s, the Bulgarian cineastes did not resort to what Foucault called in the mid
137 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 13, 1985.
138 Ibid.
139 Filmovi Novini (Film News), no. 4 (1974), 4 (author’s translation).
216

1970s, “false archeologizing.” 140 Instead, they tried to look at the world from the
periphery, choosing protagonists who were, in a way, at the margins of society. In this
regard, Bulgarian cinema parallels the trends in French and Italian cinema. As Emilie
Bickerton comments, “the French cinema in the 1970s emphasized a strong narrative
around the marginalized – immigrants, the working class, women, youth – and issues
such as poverty and racism.” 141
The peripheral hero is typical for the Bulgarian film in the 1970s. As Znepolski
admits, “film art became democratized during the 1970s,” 142 because with the
establishment of the peripheral hero, the division between black and white and good and
bad is abolished. Very often, as is the case with Advantage, the hero is confused and
disoriented but does not lose his humanity and attractiveness. As Djulgerov commented
in an interview, “Advantage is a polemical film. The major question in it is where does
the fault of a criminal end and where does the responsibility of society begin?” 143 The
hero of the 1970s is torn apart by internal contradictions. The films are penetrated by the
pain of the unrealized potential of an individual with so many positive qualities. Here the
Bulgarian cinema engages politically with the relationship of individual versus society. It
is stunning that films like Advantage and Swap were not suppressed,
Bulgarian film representations of exclusively peripheral heroes pointed to a
140 Foucault called “false archeologizing, the tendency of cultural representations of history
that were based on the construction of popular memory via pulp literature, compulsory education,
cinema, and television. Bickerton, 92.
141 Ibid.
142 Znepolski, 39.
143 Filmovi Novini (Film News), Mar. 1977.
217

subversive nature first publicly noticed in 1984. In an article entitled “Peripheral or
Active Hero?” (Perifernijat Geroi?), Dr. Nedelcho Milev wrote, “the peripheral hero
revolts against ‘the other’ hero who is at the center of the social processes. Quantitatively,
he is not member of the majority. Qualitatively, he is explicitly charged with negativity.
This behavior is an open and hidden form of protest.” 144 To conclude, the Bulgarian
cinema in the 1970s exhibited a subversive tendency to connect the national with the
peripheral, which was entirely contrary to the expectation of the Party. The government
intended, without success, to force the cineastes to create a national cinema as a symbol
of the regime’s power and prestige.
Another central theme in the 1970s Bulgarian cinema is migration, which is
connected to the national and peripheral. The major problem explored in films is the
unwillingness of the hero to separate from the land and his or her determination to stay at
society’s periphery. The heroes are unable to communicate. They are repressed and
unable to let go of something deep inside that is tormenting them, and they do not believe
that one can change the environment. However, one of their chief characteristics is
individuality. They have personalities that are complex and magnetic.
The periphery in Bulgarian cinema is used as a podium from which the
protagonists express their universal concerns. To call Bulgarian film a peripheral
phenomenon is not insulting but rather a compliment. At the same time, the cinema
draws its plots from the works of authors such as Haitov, Radichkov, Mishev and Rainov,
who in literary circles were considered original, elitist, and avant garde. In this regard,
144 Otechestven Front (Home Front), 18 Jul. 1984, no. 12032.
218

the cinema brought the entire culture of Bulgaria to a new and higher level. 145 Znepolski
calls film an “open art,” which evolved dramatically during the 1970s. The major themes
in the cinema were the evaluation of and coming to terms with the past and the creation
of a national consciousness. One of the most important characteristics of film in the
1970s is that it is a cinema of “authors”; in other words, the presence of the filmmaker is
the most dominant in the works. However, Bulgaria did not produce celebrities of the
level of Miloš Forman, Vera Hitilova, or András Kovács.
In the 1970s, the charm of using approaches from the documentary style became
irresistible for the cineastes. 146 Authors started looking for authenticity, for historical
accuracy, and for faces that looked natural and talked believably. Actors’ spontaneity was
emphasized, not their ability to act. 147 Even if unconsciously, Bulgarian filmmakers
reflected qualities of the French New Wave such as improvisation, the use of less rigid
camera, and freer working with the film material made the final products uniquely
Bulgarian. The works of Georgi Djulgerov, Binka Zhelyazkova, Nikola Korabov and
Gueorgui Stoyanov, who were individualistic and provocative and stressed the
subjectivity of the film experience, reflect these qualities. As Znepolski points out, the
Bulgarian cinema in the 1970s is a post-neorealist cinema. The magical presence and
influence of world renowned directors such as Visconti, Fellini, Antonioni, Bergman,
Rom, Alain Resnais, Gleb Panfilov and Buñuel is not to be underestimated. 148
145 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 48, 1984.
146 Cinéma vérité
147 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 53, 1984.
148 Ibid.
219

In the 1970s, authors became increasingly interested in the inner lives of their
protagonists. Such interest began in the 1960s, with The White Room being one of the
first attempts at introspective cinema in Bulgaria, focusing on the memories but also
fears, presentiments, expectations, and fantasies of its hero. Znepolski compares this
work to Bergman’s Persona (1966), Wild Strawberries (Smultronstället) (1957), and
Hour of the Wolf (Vargtimmen) (1968). 149 By the end of the 1970s, Bulgaria had
established contacts with world cinema. For example, critic Znepolski wrote that
filmmaker Zhelyazkova was mostly influenced by the French New Wave, comparing her
to Jean-Luc Godard and Marguerite Duras, as well as to Fassbinder, Bertolucci, and
Tarkovsky. With her cinematic languages, Zhelyazkova sabotaged the narration, rebelled
against logic, and refused to satisfy the expectations of the viewers.
Films such as The Goat Horn and Manly Times were described as “decadent” by
some contemporary critics 150 because the aesthetisizing of the circumstances made the
hero dysfunctional, which led to his/her (self)-destruction. The emphases of the two films
are on the crises and discontinuity, not on finding a resolution. The camera is still caught
in the problems of a dying world. 151 Their subversive potential is in the destruction of the
protagonist, which provides empty space for the creation of a new one. But they do not
create another hero because the birth of a new individual is impossible within the frames
of Communism.
Change as a destiny is the major theme in all films dealing explicitly or implicitly
149 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 55, 1984.
150 Ibid.
151 Ibid.
220

with migration or struggle for transformation. Last Summer and A Tree without Roots
represent the romantic nostalgia of Christov for lost forms. 152 The two films depict the
slow and agonizing death of the Bulgarian village in particular and of nature in general.
The nostalgia for nature is the romantic element of the films. The two movies are strong
emotional responses to the process of Bulgarian society’s urbanization during the 1960s
and1970s, as opposed to Western Europe where it happened a century earlier.
As Znepolski comments, while feelings are repressed in A Tree without Roots and
then burst out violently in Last Summer, in the latter film, the protagonist Ivan Efreitov
refuses to abandon the village which is sinking in the new reservoir that the Party has
built. His house is conveniently located at the summit of the village. It is the only house
untouched by the water. Ivan, who is a child of nature and identifies himself as the son of
the mountain and the fields, still lives at the “beach” of this artificial lake. He continues
to ride a horse, carry his gun, have his loyal dog, take care of the cattle, and make a living
by hunting. He is the romantic hero par excellence, who stays loyal to his ideals,
becoming one with nature, but because of his isolation, he lacks meaningful interactions
with people, leading to the destruction of his consciousness. The film’s leitmotiv is
nostalgia for the lost harmony with nature and for a life in which the hero feels free. As a
result, he breaks all contacts and starts living in an imaginary world comprised of old
memories and the shadows of death. Nature itself becomes animated. New dimensions
of his consciousness are resurrected and merge with the present. The character of the
father occupies a central place in those memories. This is a film about the rebellion of
152 Ibid.
221

sensitivity which protests against rationalism. 153 Director Christov regarded folklore or
myth as vital parts of human consciousness. His films are in many ways a farewell to the
archaic psyche of the Bulgarian. 154
The hero of A Tree without Roots is also romantic. He makes a compromise by
leaving his beloved small village to try to interact with “the city,” thereby shifting the
center of his existence. As he says, “at home, in the village, I am in the middle of the
universe.” 155 As a result, the protagonist is reduced to a slow and agonizing death in the
labyrinth of the huge city, filled with strangers, loud noises, and unfamiliar relationship
and socialization patterns. The new world that he encounters is a place where boundaries
vanish and the relationship with nature is missing. What the old man sees instead is
mechanized work, stereotypical entertainment, and alienation. The protagonist feels
“castrated” in this environment and nearly loses his ability to speak. He starts vegetating
in a dream-like condition in which his entire consciousness is penetrated and kept alive
by powerful memories of his youthful past. Most heroes from the films devoted to nature
and myth are passive except for the strong female protagonists who are trying to shape
their faith, such as in Manly Times, The Goat Horn, and Matriarchate. The major theme
of these films is nature versus urbanization, where nature is understood as human
authenticity
The destruction of nature merges with the self-destruction of the individual who
cannot exist outside of it. In Last Summer, for example, the entire village drowns in the
153 Ibid.
154 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 19, 1984.
155 A Tree without Roots (Darvo bez koren).
222

waters of the artificial lake, including their church, school, and cemetery — the symbols
of the villagers’ collective memory. The obliteration of the village is accompanied by an
onslaught of destructive actions, such as peasants killing their dogs, cows, and horses and
dismembering their scarecrows. 156 Furthermore, a large number of skeletons appear,
covering the empty beaches of the artificial lake. Later, the environment becomes even
more macabre when the viewers see horse’s skeletons, dead birds, and desiccated fish. A
dead bird becomes a kite in the sick imagination of the protagonist. In Matriarchate, the
only inhabitants in the abandoned ghostly villages are old women in black sitting in front
of their houses, which are empty because the men have died or gone. The migration leads
to the destruction of the family as Balkan inhabitants have known it for centuries. The old
women in black are the only guardians of the “old world,” one that is already dead.
The Bulgarian Cinematography of the 1970s was more aware than ever not only
of its artistic history but its history as a powerful industry. A number of structural
changes were implemented such as the creation of four collectives, which were
established through collaboration between co-workers and colleagues. Unfortunately, this
initiative did not bring the expected results in the sense that the moviemakers of a single
collective could not manage to entirely agree about the films that they were discussing;
neither could they succeed in bearing the entire financial risk involved in the production
of a single film. However, the collectives contributed significantly to the increase in
aesthetic quality of the films and helped by providing constructive criticism to many of
the young industry novices. Within just several years, an entire new generation was able
156 The image of the scarecrow as a grotesque and macabre symbol of angst is interestingly a
constant protagonist in many Bulgarian films. In Last Summer it acts as an absurd guardian of a
land that is barren.
223

to establish itself in the cinematic world. 157
Another interesting phenomenon prevalent in the 1970s was the process of
differentiation in the film industry. For example, many new genres emerged such as
historical films, psychological dramas, children’s films, comedy, and entertainment films.
The Bulgarian cinema in the 1970s did not develop into a mass phenomenon or a
“popular cinema.” With few exceptions, the void between the majority of film works and
the large masses remained unfilled. A genre, such as entertainment cinema, with the
exception of a few comedies, did not emerge. Because the industry refused to follow
Western market sensibilities, Bulgarian filmmakers always aimed to produce serious,
educational, and problem-oriented works. As Znepolski commented, the blame for the
gap between the public and the film industry was with the public and not with the
filmmakers. 158
By the 1970s, Bulgaria had already created its cinematic masterpieces, such as All
is Love by Sharaliev, Advantage and Swap by Djulgerov, The Last Word by Zhelyazkova,
The Goat Horn by Metodi Andonov and Manly Times by Zachariev, among others. Most
of those films tried to face the wounds of the past and to introspectively gaze into the
darkest corners of the human psyche. Table 3 which follows illustrates the numerous
successes of films on prestigious festivals and provides evidence about film attendance.
After examining the data, we can conclude that a gap indeed existed between the public
and critic. Films that received exceptionally good reviews, such as Last Summer, among
others, received prestigious awards but were poorly attended. In rare cases, films could
157 CSA, f. 383, op. 15, a. e. 208, list 61–63, 1985.
158
Ibid. Films such as The Goat Horn, The Peach Thief and Tsar and General became
widely popular without being entertaining.
224

count on success among the critic and the large audiences. This trend further advances
the argument that the film industry did not function as a mass propaganda tool as
intended by the Communist Party, first because it did not produce propaganda films and
second because cinema evolved into an elitist and not popular art form, failing to attract
the anticipated numbers of viewers.
225

Table 3
Chronology of Films: 1972–1980
Film Year Viewers Prizes
The Goat Horn 1972 2,340,796 1. First Prize, Best Female Performer,
Varna
2. Prize of the Public, Varna
3. Special Prize, Karlovy Vary
1973
4. Jury Award, Karlovy Vary
1. Second Prize Silver Hugo, Chicago
2. Best Female Performer, Panama
3. Femina Prize for Katya Paskaleva,
Best Female Performer, Brussels
The Last Word 1973 564,224 1.First Prize for Film, Varna
2. Femina Prize for Binka Zhelyazkova,
Brussels
3. Presented at the Cannes Film Festival
The Hare Census 1973 372,813 1. Second Prize of Film Critics, Varna
2. Second Prize of the International Jury,
Locarno
Last Summer 1974 101,975 1. Best Foreign Filmmaker, Atlanta
2. Gold Metal, Best Male Performer,
San Remo
1975
1. Special Jury Prize, Toulon
2. Certificate for Best Film, Los Angeles
A Tree without Roots 1974 655,303 1. First Prize, Karlovy Vary
Villa Zone 1974 509,432 1. Best Female Performer, Karlovy Vary
2. Best Female Performer, Varna
Doomed Souls 1975 2,900,000 1. First Prize, Best Director, Varna
2. First Prize, Best Cameraman, Varna
3. First Prize, Best Actor, Varna
1976
1. Honorary Diploma, Teheran
A Cricket in the Ear 1976 724,444 1. Second Prize, Varna
Manly Times 1977 770,901 1. First Prize The Golden Horn
1978
1. Best Male Performer, Varna
2. Best Female Performer, Varna
3. One of Three Best Films, Antwerp
Matriarchate 1977 719,287 1. Special Prize, Varna
The Swimming Pool 1977 792,219 1. Best Director, Varna
2. Best Male Performer, Varna
3. Second Prize, Silver Medal, Moscow
226

Table 3 (continued)
Film Year Viewers Prizes
Advantage 1977
1978
1979
823,109 ---
1. Best Director, Varna
2. Best Cameraman, Varna
3. Second Prize, Silver Bear, West Berlin
1. First Prize, Best Director, Avelino
2. Best Female Performer, Avelino
Swap 1978 402,565 ---
With Love and
Tenderness
1978 270,953 ---
The Unknown 1979 275,789 1. Best Director, Varna
Soldier’s Patent
2. Best Costumes, Varna
Leather Shoes
3. First Prize, The Golden Peacock, Delhi
All is Love 1979 1,817,110 ---
1980
1. Special Prize for Best Female Performer,
Varna
2. Critic’s Prize, Varna
Love Game 1980 807,581 ---
The Window 1980 256,248 ---
Sources: Janakiev, 304-310; Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian
Cinema)
227

CHAPTER 4
The Downfall: Cinema of the 1980s or The Unfinished Project
Life is short. One can make perhaps barely fifteen nice films in one’s life. I
do not have time for the prosaic and narcissistic enjoyment of self-repetition.
Many people asked me why I am silent.
For me, filmmaking is a profession on two levels. First it is craft, and
second a value system. In order to be able to exercise your craft you need to make
numerous compromises, because you want to make a film. We are a bizarre and
fragile “literature”; we do not have money. The struggle to be able to make a film
turns our art – the cinema – into an unbearable torture.
I do not agree that Bulgarian films are provincial. Exactly the opposite! I
am deeply convinced that we have at least twenty names in our art who could
participate in the European arena. The talented are many but the cinema is made
with money! The time of “Risorgimento” enthusiasm is over. The time of cinéma
vérité is over, when we could make a film just walking down the street!... 1
–Georgi Djulgerov
The Demise of Communism
At the beginning of the 1980s, the façade of the regime crumbled. In many social
spheres, the economic downfall, associated with the final stages of the Cold War, became
visible. During the agony of Communism, the population experienced severe market
shortages and constant energy crises. Long lines for bread and basic necessities became
part of everyday life. The crisis was strikingly noticeable even in the capital, which was
usually best supplied. The situation in the smaller cities and especially in the countryside
1
Georgi Djulgerov, interview with Geoveva Dimitrova, in Filmovi Novini (Film News) 12,
28 Jun. 1988 (author’s translation).
228

was disastrous. The feeling, prevalent among the citizens of the Communist state in the
period is best described by Evgenia Kalinova and Iskra Baeva as “a mass inertia and
passivity accompanied with the pessimistic perception that at that point nothing can be
changed anyway.” 2
Being used to a Spartan lifestyle, Bulgarians did not even presume that this was
not simply another calamity of the system but the signs of its ultimate collapse. To make
matters even worse, the Soviets, to which the Bulgarians had always looked for support,
turned their backs on them. When in 1985, Gorbachev came to power, he enforced the
politics of “perestroika” (economic and institutional restructuring) but he was not willing
to oversee its impact in Bulgaria or to offer help how it could be best implemented. 3 In
fact, the Soviets themselves did not know how to fix their broken Empire. After nearly
four decades of experimenting with the application of utopian ideologies, the
governments across the Eastern Bloc needed to embrace another experiment in order to
save Communism from itself.
What were the obvious signs of the crisis in Bulgaria? Bulgarian foreign debt
grew dramatically in the 1980s. 4 The Soviet Union, which was the major supplier of
natural gas, stopped its regular delivery, which led to the imposition of severe energy
rationing throughout the country. In the big cities, the electricity supply was turned off
and on daily in alternating three hour periods. As stated by Kalinova and Baeva, “the
2 Kalinova and Baeva, 218.
3 Ibid.
4 Ibid. The debt grew from $700 million US in 1979 to $4.4 billion US. The debt was
forgiven in 1983, but in exchange Bulgaria agreed to open its borders to trade with the West.
229

sinister nights” 5 led to massive demoralization of the population, enfolding into anger
and disappointment with the regime. The government was now even incapable of
assuring the basic necessities of everyday life. By the middle of the decade, the massive
collective farms system over the entire Eastern Bloc collapsed. Bulgaria tried to
reinvigorate the countryside by allowing the development of small enterprises, supplying
the population with basic goods, otherwise missing from the stores nationwide.
The economic crisis was coupled with a demographic shift leading to a dramatic
decline of the population of ethnic Bulgarians. This factor partly explains the politics of
compulsory name changes imposed on the ethnic Turks in the country between 1984 and
1985. 6 The policy of raising taxes on singles and families without children was
accompanied by an appeal for increased fertility. 7 The violent act of renaming the
Bulgarian Turks, who numbered 850 thousand, or 10% of the population in 1985, had its
consequences. A radical Islamic underground organization emerged. The terrorists placed
bombs in train stations and airports. 8 The international image of Bulgaria suffered greatly
as a result. Between December 1984 and January 1985, 100 thousand Bulgarian Turks
were forced to change their Muslim names to Bulgarian names. For example, the best
known Bulgarian sculptor of Turkish descent, Vejdi Rashidov, was renamed Vejdiu
Radishev. The politics of renaming was farcical and absurd. It evoked sharp criticism
among the Turkish minorities and the dissident-minded intellectuals and failed to
5 Ibid., 220.
6 Ibid., 221.
7 CSA, f. 1B, op. 34, a.e. 89, list 34, 1984.
8 Ibid., 222.
230

undermine the sense of Turkish identity among the population. 9 Instead of stopping the
forced conversions, between 1985 and 1989, the authorities attempted to implement their
policies through various forms of repression and violations of human rights, such as
banning the use of the Turkish language and Muslim ceremonies in public places and
prohibiting the wearing of traditional Turkish clothing. 10 In 1989, a wave of violence
swept the country and 320 thousand Turks fled to Turkey. 11
Despite lack of evidence, the presumed Bulgarian participation in the attempted
assassination of Pope John Paul II in 1981 worsened the international reputation of the
country. 12 Zhivkov’s dictatorship faced the most significant challenges in 1985 when
Mikhail Gorbachev came to power in the Soviet Union. Gorbachev was of a completely
different generation than was Zhivkov. The newly elected Soviet leader did not firmly
believe in the Communist ideology. He publicly confirmed his dislike for Communism in
the New York Times in 2002 when he stated
Communism, to which I spent serving for almost my entire life, was just
pure propaganda. The truth is that we thought that capitalism was heading
towards a catastrophe. We are doing better. This also was pure propaganda. The
Soviet politicians were lying. We were significantly behind in our development. 13
9
Maria Todorova, Remembering Communism: Genres of Representation (New York: Social
Science Resource Council, 2010), 68.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid. In March 1990 the new government passed a law restoring original names of Turks.
Turkish language instruction became optional in schools and new radio and television broadcasts
in Turkish were allowed. Property confiscated from Turks was restored.
12 Kalinova and Baeva, 223.
13 Trud (Work), 13 Mar. 2002 (author’s translation).
231

Twenty years his senior, Zhivkov proved incapable of finding a “common
tongue” with the much younger Soviet head of state. He also failed to reassure Bulgarians
of their privileged status, based on Bulgarian Russophile sentiments, as the “golden
child” of the Soviets. Already Gorbachev’s predecessor, Yuri Andropov, made clear with
his new political course that the Soviet Union was no longer willing or able to treat the
Eastern Bloc as a favored partner in the international market. The key point leading to the
end of the Cold War was marked by Gorbachev’s speech in 1985 at the January Plenary
Session of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in which
Gorbachev introduced his plans for democratization and “glasnost” (openness, freedom
of speech). 14 Zhivkov felt trapped. He either had to follow the Soviet political course,
which would predictably lead to his demise, or remain in the conservative camp together
with the leaders of East Germany (Erich Honecker), Romania, (Nicolae Ceauşescu), and
Czechoslovakia (Gustáv Husák). 15
From then on, Zhivkov engaged in an excruciating struggle to maintain his power.
Not willing to surrender, he tried everything possible to fix the system from within,
promoting chaotic and inconsistent ideas of pseudo-democratic allure. Various rushed
experiments were conducted, such as the closing of several councils and their
14 The Russian word glasnost, which literally means “giving voice,” attained international
currency during the late 1980s, along with perestroika, meaning “restructuring,” as the main
slogans of the attempt during the Gorbachev years to reform Soviet society. As a policy allowing
greater freedom of expression in the media and the arts, it was introduced gradually and not
unequivocally after Gorbachev’s accession in 1985. Such journals such as Novyi mir (New
World) and Znamya (The Banner) brought or returned to Soviet readers the works of émigré
writers from Nabokov and Zamyatin to Brodsky and eventually Solzhenitsyn, as well as hitherto
banned works by writers who remained in Russia. Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago, for example, was
finally published in the Soviet Union in 1988. Taylor et al., 85.
15 Kalinova and Baeva, 227.
232

estructuring into ministries. The initiative of creating large bodies out of small
institutions was in fact contrary to the major ideas of restructuring, which espoused
stimulation of free enterprise on the micro level and not vice versa. The political
establishment was completely disoriented in the new situation. In September 1989,
Zhivkov bitterly admitted, “Perestroika did not succeed in Bulgaria. It has no alternative.
Unfortunately, perestroika and its failure opened the doors for the fall, not only of
perestroika, but of Communism as a whole.” 16
By depriving Bulgaria of major goods, such as petroleum, the Soviet Union
demonstrated its firm desire to distance itself from the protector role that it had played
before. Left alone, without its “big brother” Bulgaria was not able to economically
survive the crisis. 17
Despite the fact that self-criticism became compulsory because of the imposition
of “glasnost” from above, (and, therefore, quite superficial), some intellectuals were able
to authentically voice their frustration and anger. As already noted, the intellectuals were
the first to start de-Stalinization during the 1950s; now they were also the first to embrace
the politics of openness. 18 The publishing of two books in the late 1980s marked the
beginning of an organized dissident movement in Bulgaria; the first was the book
Fascism by Jelio Jelev, in which the author intentionally compares fascism to
communism. The second was Face by Blaga Dimitrova, which exposed the contradiction
16 Ibid.
17 Prelomni Vremena (Transitional Times), 840–855.
18 There were also intellectuals who succeeded in expressing their disagreement with
Zhivkovism throughout their entire lives under Communism, such as Radoi Ralin, Christo Ganev
and Binka Zhelyazkova, and the poets Stephan Zanev and Constantin Pavlov.
233

etween socialist ideals and socialist reality. The most widespread form of protest during
the 1980s, was also frequently used in the 1960s and 1970s, through so-called Aesop
language —a way of speaking in which thoughts and ideas were not directly stated but
rather symbolically implied. Environmental and anti-industrialization movements
emerged. The main impetus behind the establishment of these movements was the
Chernobyl explosion of 1986, which posed a direct threat to the Bulgarian environment. 19
By the final year of the Cold War, 1989, the dissidents were divided into two
camps: radical non-communists, who opposed the system as a whole, and Communist
reformers who were anti-Zhivkovists but believed that Communism can be repaired. 20 In
1989, the intellectual dissident movement became a mass phenomenon. Alarmed that he
was losing those with whom he spent so much time flirting and domesticating, Zhivkov
called for congresses of all arts unions. The congresses took place from March 7–14,
1989. Artists finally began to explicitly criticize the policies of the Party and refused to
approve the candidates for official positions prescribed from above. The unions of the
writers and cinematographers were very rebellious. Especially the 1989 Congress of the
Bulgarian Cineastes will remain in the records of the history of the Cold War as the most
subversive. As the writer Georgui Danailov recalled, “If the congress of the writers was
an opera, the congress of the filmmakers was a Wagnerian drama.” 21
Hoping to regain authority, Zhivkov commanded a loyal member of his inner
circle, the writer Bogomil Rainov, to speak in his support. Rainov disobeyed. Zhivkov
19 Kalinova and Baeva, 234.
20 Ibid., 238.
21 Ibid., 249.
234

panicked because his most vocal critics came from the echelons of the convinced and
devoted Communists. Finally realizing that he had forever alienated his base, the dictator
lost any hope of preserving the status quo.
Structural Changes in the Bulgarian Cinematography: 1981–1991
We are part of the present of this nation. The themes that we have are
dictated by the present. The cinema is a chronicle of the Zeitgeist. I hope that
someday, our works will be explored in order to discover the essence of the spirit
of our time. 22
–Georgi Djulgerov
As an institutional organ, the Bulgarian Cinematography remained directly
connected to the Committee of Culture by the Bulgarian Communist Party. By 1989, the
Bulgarian Cinematography had thirty-seven subdivisions, including the Boyana studios,
among various departments associated with the production and distribution of films. 23
The institution performed functions, such as production of all types of films for the
cinema and Bulgarian Television, propaganda services, film studies and preservation,
distribution, international propaganda, and preservation of products and materials.
22 Georgi Djulgerov, interview with Geoveva Dimitrova, in Filmovi Novini (Film News) 12,
28 Jun. 1988 (author’s translation).
23 CSA, f. 383, op. 115, a. e. 1, list 1, 1989; Richard Taylor et al., eds., The BFI Companion
to Eastern European and Russian Cinema (London: BFI Publishing, 2000), 34–35. Boyana
Studios, constructed in the 1950s at the foot of Mount Vitosha, overlooking Sofia, and expanded
in the 1960s into “Film City Boyana”, included five separate and independent sections: Boyana
Feature Film Studio, the Sofia Animation Studio, the paired Vreme Popular Science and
Documentary Film Studio, and Boyana Film Laboratory. Until 1983, Boyana Feature Film Studio
was composed of four creative groups, each with its own artistic director. Beginning in 1983,
however, when the ill-fated reform was introduced by the newly appointed general director
Nikolai Nennov, the four creative groups were disbanded and feature film production placed
under the management of Zako Heskija and Lyudmil Kirkov. The studio at Boyana possessed an
extensive stock of wardrobe and props, but the land of the studios has been reclaimed by its
former owners and its future problematic. Since 1989 the cuts in personnel have been substantial.
235

In 1982, the leading administrators included a new body within the institutional
matrix, the firm “Videofilm.” Its purpose was to lend films for private use to hotels,
tourist facilities, and educational institutions. By the beginning of 1982, thirty-three
video clubs served up to one billion film viewers per year. During the same year, the
government established for a first time in Bulgaria special educational facilities for the
teaching of film studies.
In 1983, the government appointed a committee for re-evaluating and planning
the budgets for films and the salaries of all individuals involved in filmmaking. The
stimulus behind its creation was to establish more incentives for the filmmakers and
make the production of entertainment films possible. By 1984, 8980 people were
involved in the film industry. Seven hundred sixty-one of them occupied leading
positions. Already in 1982, the President of the Union of Bulgarian Film Makers Christo
Christov was replaced (due to his scandalous 1982 film A Woman at Thirty-three (Edna
zhena na trideset i tri) which will be explored in the following sections), by the film
director Gueorgui Stoyanov, who occupied the position until 1989. 24 From 1986 until
1991, the film director Liudmil Staikov 25 and Nikola Nenov were the leaders of the film
24 CSA, f. 383, op. 115, a. e. 1, list 8, 1989.
25 Liudmil Staikov, born 1937 in Sofia, graduated from the Sofia Academy of Dramatic Art
(VITIS) in 1962. He worked as an actor and stage director in Bourgas before joining Bulgarian
Television in 1965 as a director of short films and televised stage plays. His modern style and
prolific output paved the way for the success of his first feature film at Boyana Studios, Affection
(Obič) (1972). A youth theme dealing with the painful side of the generation gap, it shared First
Prize at the 1973 Moscow film festival. Appointed artistic manager of the Mladost (Youth) unit at
Boyana Film, he specialized in historical chronicles in a thriller context such as Amendment to the
Defense of the State Act (Dopălnenie kăm zakona za zaštita na dăržavata) (1976) and Illusion
(Iljuzija) (1980). Staikov crowned these state-supported achievements with the three-part Khan
Asparukh (Han Asparuh) (1981), the cornerstone production for the 1,300 th anniversary of the
Bulgarian state and the most expensive production in Bulgarian film history. It was re-edited
years later into an abridged English-synchronized version titled 681 AD—The Glory of Khan
236

industry. That same year (1984) a special sixteen-person department called “A Flag for
Peace” was established in memory of Lyudmila Zhivkova. The Party also added a special
body responsible for film control, in regard to quality, content, and spending within the
industry.
In 1987, the government hired a commission to closely examine the social and
economic functioning of the entire cinema network nationwide. 26 The commission
promptly concluded that customer service in the country was unsatisfactory. Many
cinemas did not have air conditioning systems and the acoustics were poor. Out of 3275
film theaters, only forty had updated screening systems. 27 In 1989, the political and
intellectual elite realized that the artistic collectives did not function properly. The
cineastes felt completely alienated from the system and the audiences. They perceived the
administrative responsibilities associated with committee work as burdensome, fruitless,
and having direct negative impact on their artistic creativity and ability to connect with
the public. Radoslav Spassov advocated in an interview in 1988:
We need to find forms in which society contributes financially to the cinema,
because the cinema becomes more and more expensive every day. A talent is a
rare and precious thing and it is unacceptable that some of our best filmmakers
cannot work actively for long periods of time. We had great hopes in the new
artistic collectives, but the expectation that the formation of collectives will
transform the cinema is unrealistic. This is one of the reasons why there is a lot of
frustration in our circles recently. But after years of leadership “from above” the
creation of the collectives, in which presidents were just directors was after all
very positive. It somehow strengthened their self confidence and wounded sense of
lack of authority.
(1983). In 1987, Staikov was appointed head of the Bulgarian Cinematography Corporation, a
position he held until 1991. Despite official duties in the Ministry of Culture, he still found time
to direct Time of Violence (Vreme na nasilie) (1988). Taylor et al., 230–231.
26 CSA, f. 383, op. 115, a. e. 1, list 5, 1989.
27 CSA, f. 383, op. 115, a. e. 1, list 6, 1989.
237

But this is just the psychological part of the question. At the end, it
happened so that their energy started being directed only towards the legislative
part of the artistic. This activity repressed their artistic potentials to a large
extent. This lack of balance cast its dark shadow on their artistic creativity. In
addition, the film directors, who are the majority in those collectives, often cannot
objectively judge the works of their colleagues. Therefore, one of the weaknesses
of these collectives is that no members of other cultural spheres are present. For
example, it would be nice when we have more writers when the collectives debate
a script.
Another problem that the collectives faced was the presence of many
cadres. The average budget of a film became very expensive. 28 There is a sense of
insecurity since the average film production decreased. Old rules need to be
replaced by new more dynamic practices. 29
In the preceding interview excerpt, Spassov has succeeded to precisely pin down
the pivotal problems that the new structural changes posed to artistry and creativity. On
the one hand, through the collectives, the filmmakers had agency to shape their own
artistic affairs. On the other hand, when it came to the most important issues, capital for
film production, the collectives were powerless, since they were not in charge of financial
affairs. In addition, many collective members felt uncomfortable and demoralized
judging and criticizing the cinematic works of their colleagues. By ordering the leaders of
the film world to exercise self-censorship, the Party has succeeded in crushing any
attempts for solidarity and camaraderie, atomizing them and making them mistrustful
against the system and each other. As Pavel Pisarev interpreted the problems in the film
world in an interview, “the chief problems in the cinema come from the cineastes. In fact,
they cannot stand each other. It is inherited in their artistic nature not to like anybody’s
28 400 to 600 thousand leva.
29
Radoslav Spassov, interview with Christina Stoyanova, 1988. Private archives of Radoslav
Spassov (author’s translation).
238

artistic work but their own.” 30 To make matters worse, the number of viewers was
declining. In many villages, cinemas were in place but the inhabitants had left. In the
final year of the decade, the Cinematography was running a deficit; by 1990, it had
reached a staggering 16.85 billion leva. Film production had dropped to fifteen per year,
as opposed to twenty per year in 1970. 31 A survey of the screenings of approximately
180 films showed that only fifteen were Bulgarian. 32
At the end of the decade, the economic and technical state of the cinematography
was alarming. Cameras, sound effect appliances, lighting, and other related equipment,
needed major updates. Predictably, in 1990, the agonizing Communist government
abandoned the film industry entirely. The cineastes started desperately looking for
sponsors and Western currency. Now, the only way to survive was possible with the help
of Western companies. During the same year, the institutional body called Bulgarian
Cinematography disintegrated into several small and independently existing units for film
production. Its composition at the end of the Cold War ironically resembled the small
firms in place before the Communist coup d’état in 1944.
By 1991, the central government of the Cinematography was abolished. On July
1, 1991, the only public institution associated with filmmaking was a small national film
center under the direct supervision of the Ministry of Culture. It operated on a modest
budget from the state and its functions included coordination of films, film production,
customer service in the film theaters, and film distribution. The Union of Bulgarian Film
30 Pavel Pisarev, interview with Dima Dimova, Kino (Cinema), Jun. 2004, 4.
31 Production would continue to drop dramatically after the Cold War.
32 CSA, f. 383, op. 115, a. e. 1, list 5, 1989.
239

Makers became a self-regulating body operating with subsidies. As Dina Iordanova
commented:
In 1990, state funding for national film production has been cut to the
bone. From an average of twenty or so feature films annually in Bulgaria a
decade ago, and approximately the same number of television films, only half a
dozen domestic film and television productions were scheduled in Boyana for the
1993-4 season…A stark contrast with the heyday of the 1970s, under Pavel
Pisarev, when Boyana Studios turned out nearly one feature film a week for
cinemas and television. 33
After 1990, private film companies continued to exist but they were plagued by
constant financial hardships. The film makers were devastated. As the film director
Georgi Djulgerov commented: “After 1990s, we degenerated from professionals to
amateurs.” 34
In 1988 Radoslav Spassov shared with the press:
The romantic times when movies were made easy are over. In the past,
money was available and the bureaucratic and administrative barriers were
surmountable. During the recent years, the artists had to deal with a lot of
organizational and structural problems and this took their entire time. The energy
and emotional potential of the artists go away for things that are not important
for them or should not be their business. Instead, we needed to put all our
energies into the process of creation. 35
In an interview about the status quo in the late 1980s, the veteran director Georgi
Djulgerov expressed similar views.
I cannot even count how many times I had to humiliate myself, to beg for
materials and money. But when it comes to my value system and world view, I am
uncompromising. It is simple. If you have a theme, and if you are devoted to it,
and love it, you need to fight for it.
33 Taylor et al., 40–42.
34 Georgi Djulgerov, interview with author, 30 Jul., 2007.
35
Radoslav Spassov, interview with Christina Stoyanova, 1988. Private archives of Radoslav
Spassov (author’s translation).
240

In the past, when making movies was light for me, occupied me entirely
and everything new made me curious, the words of writer and scriptwriter Nikola
Roussev, stunned me: “You feel good now, fellow, but let’s talk again when you
have reached 40…” Well, now I am 44, and with every new film getting scarier
and scarier. Not because I will lose something, fail, or make a fool out of myself,
but because the first spark is gone. I do not feel anymore that I make films but that
I must make them for something. And I do not like to repeat myself. 36
The examples in the sections above demonstrate that the gradual decline and
fragmentation of the film industry during the 1980s mirrored the downfall of the
government. But, the people involved in film production had different motivations for
their modus operandi than the Communist state. The collapse of the structures that had
supported them in making their visions reality was in a way more tragic than the fall of
the already rotten façade of Communism. Since film is an art that is possible only by the
investment of large capital and the support of a stable infrastructure, it was unclear for the
cineastes how Bulgarian film would ever recover. In this context, many of the filmmakers
preferred being liberated within their works by sublimating their feelings rather than
exercising their new freedom coupled with the inability to make films, their major means
of communication and self expression.
In 1987, the Politburo of the Central Committee arranged a conference in Sofia
for all Eastern Bloc cinematographers. The delegations acknowledged the need for
spreading more Western films across the Eastern Bloc in order to attract viewers and
stimulate Eastern cineastes with good examples in order to improve the quality of their
films. The conference decided to show in 1987 for the first time in Sofia almost all
Western films that had received major awards, such as the Oscar.
36
Georgi Djulgerov, interview with Geoveva Dimitrova, in Filmovi Novini (Film News) 12,
28 Jun. 1988 (author’s translation).
241

International Film Festival in Sofia in 1987
…[M]y own feeling is that to call an artist a provincial is the best way of
defining him. For an artist’s position in the face of reality must be exactly that of
a provincial, he must be attracted by what he sees and at the same time have the
detachment of a provincial. What is an artist, in fact? He is merely a provincial
who finds himself standing between a physical and a metaphysical reality. Faced
with the metaphysical reality, we are all provincials… 37
–Federico Fellini
From November 20–30, 1987, the Lyudmila Zhivkova National Cultural Palace in
Sofia, opened in 1981, hosted the “Panorama of World Cinema.” Over thirty films
among the most prestigious international productions from the past several years were
screened in one hundred thirty showings. The films had not previously been shown in
Bulgarian cinemas. Special portrait film cycles of famous cinematographers such as Bob
Fosse, the Brothers Taviani, and Theo Angelopoulos brought the total number of films to
eighty-two. 38 The hosts of the Panorama were especially thrilled that many
internationally renowned movie makers, including Vittorio Taviani and Theo
Angelopoulos, came personally to present their oeuvres. Major leitmotivs reflective of the
event and which occupied the press were the generational gap between the movie makers
and the international trend of commercialization of the film art. The Greek film director
Theo Angelopoulos gave a special interview where he shared his opinion about the most
central issues of the film industry.
Usually, I talk very honestly. I do not know if your audiences are
interested in the problems that interest me. But, finally, we all talk about cinema,
and we all talk about the needs of the individual. There is a certain generation
37 Fellini, 154.
38 Puls (Pulse), issue 46, Nov. 1987, 11.
242

gap between us and the new generation. Back then we went to the movies and it
was like a celebration, like a first date. In the last years with the spread of the
video technology everything changed…
I remember the years of the dictatorship in Greece. 39 But this entire period
of terrible oppression was also a period of hope…In the past the Greek people
went to the movies a lot. Many talented filmmakers from Europe went to the USA.
But films are not made only for tickets. 40
On the question why he chose Marcello Mastroianni to play the lead in his 1986
film The Beekeeper (O Melissokomos), Angelopoulos replied
there was not such an actor in Greece. I was looking for Italian who
gesticulates a lot. I wanted “to cut” his desire to be a star and to make him antistar.
I wanted him to be a prototype of the anti-family because he himself has
several families around the world. We had a wonderful working experience. I felt
him like my child. Marcello came to Greece to work with me without reading the
script. We have the prejudice that the famous actors are capricious. My
experience was the opposite. Marcello was a wonderful and professional coworker.
41
Vittorio Taviani, who also came to the capital specially for the presentation of the
film Good Morning, Babylon (Good Morning Babelonia) (1987), made in collaboration
with his brother Paolo, also gave an interview to the most prominent newspaper in the
country, Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed). Asked to explain the discrepancy
between the tastes of the critics and the public, he responded
...I do not divide the viewers into spectators and critics. I am surprised
sometimes those regular filmgoers can offer such a deep analysis of a film. For
me, the ideal case is when the tastes of the public and critic converge. This means
to me that we as creators of art have achieved perfection. My brother and I want
to make the viewer co-authors who will live with the film long after its screening.
Our films are our lives and we try to find with them a universal truth. 42
39 The National Socialist regime of Ioannis Metaxas (1936–1941).
40 Theo Angelopoulos, interview with Nedjalka Damjanova in Zemedelsko Zname (Workers
Flag), issue 278, 25 Nov. 1987, 9 (author’s translation).
41 Ibid.
243

Taviani’s statement contrasted sharply with the elitist view of the Bulgarian
cineastes, which is best expressed in an interview with Radoslav Spassov.
One of the biggest problems of the Bulgarian film is that it does not have
enough viewers. Many of our best directors right now are without jobs. On the
other hand the overwhelming distribution of Western films improved the taste of
the Bulgarian viewer, who is anyway more likely to visit a Western instead of a
domestic film.
Also the vulgar and superficial films that are distributed through the home
video market also have a bad influence. We do indeed have a tendency now in our
film industry towards commercialization and few directors defend this stand. This
is dangerous, although this does not mean that I reject commercialism entirely.
We also do not have serious sociological surveys about the tastes of the
viewers. The roads of the spectators’ interest are unknown and mysterious to us.
If it comes to my opinion, I do not like to flirt with the viewer. I follow my own
positions. 43
After World War II, Italian film directors formed a cultural avant garde to the
prevailing trend of the commoditization of art. 44 Therefore, Italian films cannot be treated
primarily as representative of a mass popular culture. In fact, Taviani’s and Spassov’s
statements diverge only on the surface. Taviani was implying in the interview that he had
high expectations from his viewers. Bulgarian filmmakers, as well, were determined not
to compromise, at least, with the artistic quality of their films. As Vania Stoyanova
emphasizes, “there was a consensus in Bulgaria among cinematographers and critics that
cinema was to serve as a form of social moral corrective that triggers a cathartic process
42 Vittorio Taviani, “I live through the Cinema,” interview with Jeko Benadov in
Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), 29 Nov. 1987 (author’s translation).
43 Radoslav Spassov, conversation with Daniela Strelkova, in Narodna Kultura (Popular
Culture), 11 Nov. 1989 (author’s translation).
44 See Patrick McCarthy, ed., Italy Since 1945, The Short Oxford History of Italy (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2000): 197–214; and Manuela Gieri, Contemporary Italian Filmmaking:
Strategies of Subversion – Pirandello, Fellini, Scola, and the Directors of the New Generation
(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995).
244

even if the political message is completely reversed.” 45 When asked how it was possible
to have constant artistic agreement with his brother, Taviani answered jokingly: “There
were the Brothers Lumière, who invented the cinema; why should there not be the
Brothers Taviani?” 46
After learning that his films and Ginger and Fred would be screened at the Sofia
Panorama, even the maestro, Federico Fellini himself, gave a brief interview, if only by
telephone, especially for the Bulgarian newspaper Pogled (View), represented by the
Rome correspondent for Bulgarian Television, Rumen Michailov.
As Fellini said,
I am sorry that I could not accept the invitation to come to the screening
of my two films in Sofia. I wanted very much to visit your country, but I have to
postpone the travel. In fact everything that I want to tell to the Bulgarian viewer
about myself is present in the film. However, this is not an autobiographical film,
but some fragments of the everyday life of people like me who are enchanted by
this magician, the cinema. Perhaps the film is also a story about an illusion… I
wish success to the upcoming Panorama in Sofia and wish a lot of joy to all
viewers. 47
The interest in the Panorama Festival was so overwhelming that the CEO of the
Bulgarian Cinematography, Liudmil Staikov, decided to open an additional film theater
in the capital [Kino Serdica], which showed films parallel to the screenings in the
Cultural Palace. The masterpieces were also screened in thirty additional Bulgarian
cities. 48 The Minister of Culture, Georgui Yordanov, who succeeded Lyudmila Zhivkova
45 Todorova, Remembering Communism, 28.
46 McCarthy.
47
Federico Fellini, telephone interview with Rumen Michailov in Pogled (View), Nov. 1987
(author’s translation).
48 Narodna Armia (Popular Army), issue 11765, Nov. 1987.
245

and was a film buff himself, emphasized in a speech devoted to the Film Festival, the
importance of robust interactions between Bulgarian society and the most significant
examples of world culture. As he stated: “We need comparison, dialogue, and exchange
of artistic achievements.” 49
The Panorama of World Cinema became a major event in the capital, taking on
national proportions. Viewers queued and waited for tickets for up to eight hours. For the
first time in the history of Bulgarian film culture, the general public had a chance to view
famous international films—such as Fellini’s masterpiece Interview, which received the
special prize in Cannes and the Grand Prix in Moscow—only a few months after the
films’ premieres at the international film festivals in Cannes, Venice, Karlovy Vary,
Havana, West Berlin, and Moscow. The Bulgarian audiences also had the opportunity to
enjoy Fellini’s Ginger and Fred with international stars Giulietta Masina and Marcello
Mastroianni. 50 As already noted, the Italian cinematography was also represented by the
Traviani Brothers’ film Good Morning, Babylon. 51
Other notable films that were featured at the Sofia Panorama included Woody
Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), which received three Oscars in 1987, E.T.: The
Extra-Terrestrial (1982) by Steven Spielberg, Oliver Stone’s 1986 Vietnam War epic
Platoon, the then famous film Chronicle of a Death Foretold (Cronaca di una morte
annunciata) (1987) by Italian director Francesco Rossi from the novel by Gabríel Garcia
Márques, The Name of the Rose (Der Name der Rose) (1986) directed by Jean-Jacques
49 Zmedelsko Zname (Agrarian Flag), issue 268, Nov. 1987.
50 Sofia Trud (Sofia Work), issue 129, 3 Nov. 1987.
51 Zmedelsko Zname (Agrarian Flag), issue 268, Nov. 1987.
246

Annaud, based on the novel by Umberto Eco, The Mission (1986) by Roland Joffé, Miloš
Forman’s seven Oscar-winning film Amadeus (1984), Gardens of Stone (1987) by
Francis Ford Coppola, and Andrei Tarkovsky’s Nostalgia (Nostalghia) (1983).
The Panorama of World Cinema also included some smaller films in its repertoire
because of their enormous aesthetic quality and international recognition, such as The
Death of Mario Ricci (La mort de Mario Ricci) (1983) by Claude Goretta, and (La messa
é finita) The Mass is Over (1985) by Nanni Moreti. 52 In addition, films were shown from
prominent Soviet filmmakers such as Gleb Panfilov and the Georgian Tengis Abdulaze.
Also featured were works from Poland’s Anjei Varda and the Czechoslovakian Irji
Menzel. 53 Reflecting on the event, Dimitur Krustev from the newspaper Dubavska Istina
(Danube Truth) wrote
since its conception in the everyday life, two types of monologues or
discourses have existed about the cinema; that it is in crisis and that its final time
has come and, on the other hand, that the cinema is like a phoenix. It can
resurrect itself from every crisis stronger and more magical than ever. This year’s
festival of the international film proved that the film has its star moments and
today it is alive more than ever. 54
The Panorama was a colossal success but also highlighted the massive
weaknesses of the sub-department of Bulgarian Cinematography, “Kinefikation,” which
was the major organizer of the event responsible for planning anticipated attendance and
ticket distribution. At the time in which tickets for the festival were supposed to be
available, the offices of all major Bulgarian newspapers were bombarded with letters
52 Maja Dimitrova, Sofia Trud (Sofia Work), issue 129, 3 Nov. 1987.
53 Puls (Pulse), issue 46, Nov. 1987, 11.
54
Dimitur Krustev, Dubavska Istina (Danube Truth), issue 267, Nov. 1987 (author’s
translation).
247

from angry film buffs: a citizen described that by 7:30 AM on the first day of ticket sales,
several hundred people had already waited for hours for the ticket counter to open.
Thousands of people patiently awaited their turn, bringing chairs, books, portable radios,
and all types of devices for “killing time.” Some small salesmen (artists?) working the
crowds tried to use the long lines as an opportunity to sell their paintings. Many small
town visitors had already arrived on the previous day. They took alternating shifts
waiting in line and sleeping in their cars. As the angry citizen commented, “I calculated
that if the staff sells tickets every two minutes to a new person, (such a short interval is
unimaginable), my turn would come after twenty hours. At the same time it started
raining and we all had to stand in the open. I gave up.” 55
In another letter, two university students admitted that they had to wait fourteen
hours until the counter even opened. Another article described how hundreds of citizens
lined up the night before in order to be able to buy tickets in the morning. 56 These
incidents clearly illustrated not only the cultural interests of Bulgarian citizens and their
hunger for Western films but also the inadequate festival preparation by the Bulgarian
Cinematography. The overall positive impact of the event was that for the first time the
Bulgarian public had the opportunity to explore and experience the best films from
around the world. On the other hand, it humiliated the Bulgarian cineastes who were
never able to draw huge crowds to their films. The filmmakers further internalized the
stigma that it was because of their “provincialism” that the Bulgarian film was doomed to
fail. In fact, at the time of the film festival, the Communist government and the Bulgarian
55 Narodna Kultura (Popular Culture), issue 245, 30 Nov. 1987 (author’s translation).
56 Ibid.
248

Cinematography already knew that the East had “lost the game.” What the
cinematographers behind the scenes hoped for was that through the Panorama they would
attract the attention of the West. In 1987, the Bulgarian film industry realized that it could
not survive without Western subsidies.
The Cinema
In terms of film production, the last decade of the Cold War was inconsistent.
Overall, as during the 1960s and 1970s, films with impressive artistic qualities were
made. One of the major tendencies of the first part of the decade (1981) was to stimulate
the telling of historic epics intended to celebrate 1300 years of the creation of the
Bulgarian state. Paradoxically, while the collapse of the system was already foreseeable,
the government sponsored the most expensive film productions in the history of the
industry. On the one hand, the large amounts invested in films paralleled an
international trend: making movies around the world had become a luxury and a
privilege possible only for a few. On the other hand, by investing large amounts of
money in pompous historical epics, the Communist government demonstrated its naïve
belief that a strong cinema could rescue, or at least mask, its collapse. The grand
productions during the last decade had an intensely nationalistic character, aiming to
glorify the Bulgarian past. By financing the production of Time of Violence (Vreme na
nasilie), the government openly exposed its intentions to use art as a propaganda tool.
The content of the film was explicitly anti-Turk. It was screened amid the campaign for
ethnic assimilation of the Turkish minorities in the country. 57 As Iordanova points out:
57 This film attracted over five million viewers. Janakiev, 310.
249

Here, [in the film Time of Violence], the clash between Turks and
Bulgarians is presented as a manifestation of an eternal conflict between Islamic
and Christian civilizations. The two forces are juxtaposed through the use of a
range of filmic devices; — the dark colors of the Muslim’s clothes are contrasted
to the light once worn by Slavs, heavy oriental music alternates with melodic
Slavic tunes, and the grim, wrinkled face of a Muslim pasha is offset by the
healthy complexion of a Slavic child. The violence perpetrated by the Islamic
oppressors is cruel and merciless, and the distress suffered by the martyred Slavs,
degrading and painful. The ultimate message of Time of Violence is that Muslims
are responsible for centuries of suffering; this must not be allowed to recur. 58
In the years between 1980 and 1988, six grandiose pictures were produced:
Zhandov’s The Master of Boyana (Bojanskijat majstor) (1981), Djulgerov’s Measure
against Measure (Mera spored mera) (1981), Staikov’s Khan Asparuch (Han Asparuh)
(1981) 59 , Sharaliev’s Boris the First (Boris I) (1985) 60 , Stoyanov’s Constantine the
Philosopher (Konstantin Philosoph) (1986) 61 , and as already mentioned, Time of
Violence (Vreme na nasilie) (1988). 62
58 Iordanova, 227–228.
59 Khan Asparuch was the most expensive film in Bulgarian film history to date. It attracted
approximately four million viewers. Taylor et al, 230; Janakiev, 306.
60 This film was also a box office hit attracting almost five million viewers. Janakiev, 308.
61 Constantine the Philosopher is one of the most extravagant and ostentatious works in
Bulgarian film history. The film tells the story of the thinker, diplomat and the chief creator of the
Slavic alphabet, Constantine, during the years 827–869 AD. Stoyanov received subsidies from
the state to film large parts of the movie in Syria, Spain and Greece. This cinematic work was
done with a profound attention to detail and precision, but again, due to Stoyanov’s highly
intellectual cinematic language, it failed to draw large audiences to the theaters. Georgui
Stoyanov, interview with author, 12. Aug. 2007.
62 Unfortunately, this film, dealing with the forced conversions of Bulgarian Christian Slavs
to Islam by the Ottoman Empire was commissioned as part of the assimilation campaign of
forced name changing of the Turkish minorities in Bulgaria, which started in the mid 1980s. The
film indirectly reinforced human rights abuses by presenting the Turk as the eternal enemy. See
also Taylor et al, 41.
250

Measure against Measure (Mera spored mera) (1981) was co-directed by
Djulgerov and cameraman Radoslav Spassov. 63 The picture was devoted to the 1981
celebration of 1300 years of Bulgarian statehood. The film covers the modern history of
Bulgaria's fight for full independence, focusing on the years between 1878 and 1903, as a
growing militancy first leads to the liberation of most of Bulgaria from the Ottoman
Turks (1878) and consequently to a fight to free the western portion of the nation, as well
(1903). Further, the film covers the years 1903–1912, ending with the full liberation of
the region from the Turks.
In order to present the story in dramatic and humanistic fashion, Djulgerov chose
to focus on one character, a young shepherd who undergoes a transformation that is in
step with the times around him, embodying the ideals, problems, and sorrows of the war
63
In an interview on the question of what is the secret of his success, Spassov answered in
1988.
I take a long time to know a director, to become a friend. I can spend months in
conversations in order to capture the sincerity that hides behind the mask of professional
relationships. For me the “artistic conspiracy” is one of the more important things in our
profession. I am convinced that only sincerity frees you from deceiving yourself and the false
intonation which exists also in our private lives.
The cameraman needs to be a psychologist. He needs to understand the internal logic of
the film director to penetrate into his closed artistic and aesthetic universe. Just then can I
expand and mold even further his vision in my visual way. But I can do this just if he trusts me
that I will not deceive him or fail him, and that he will actually see on the screen that what he is
striving to see.
Also, while I read the script I start creating my own script. It is like playing a parallel
theme in polyphony. The tonality is the same but the motive has its own character. And regarding
my work with the actors, I study the deepness of their gaze. I do it because the eyes are the most
expressive and honest part of the human face. This is how I know when an actor is organic and
he or she fakes. You can lie with everything else but not with your eyes.
The mountains, and more particularly the Rhodope Mountains, play a crucial and fatal
role in my life. There is where I made most of my films such as Manly Times, Measure against
Measure, and now Time of Violence. My longing for the mountains became so strong that I went
so far and bought myself a house in a remote and wild Rhodope mountain village.
Radoslav Spassov, interview with Christina Stoyanova, 1988. Private archives of Radoslav
Spassov (author’s translation). The name of the village mentioned by Spassov is Kovacevitza, his
birthplace. Ever since Spassov bought a house there, it has become a popular hangout for many
intellectuals.
251

for independence. The hero, Dilber Tanas, played by Rusi Chanev, is at the beginning an
ignorant Macedonian shepherd who has no real view of larger, revolutionary issues. 64
Dilber is in the midst of his wedding when he becomes enlightened as someone shoves a
rifle into his hands, and he accidentally shoots the Orthodox priest who is performing the
matrimonial ritual. As a result, the protagonist is thrown into a quarry, where after fervent
prayers for his salvation, he emerges as a new man and a revolutionary. He is caught up
in the fighting against the Turks, sparked by the uprising at Ilinden on August 2, 1903.
Dilber and his compatriots face extermination as the Ottoman Turks burn and pillage,
killing everyone in their path. Further, Dilber is placed into the newly-formed
government of Macedonia. His former fellow soldiers are out to kill him as they consider
him allied with the Turkish enemy. Facing the real prospect of death, he is saved by the
faith of his wife. Parallelling Dilber’s redemption, Macedonia attains full liberation from
Turkish control. 65
Despite the fact that the focus on the historical depiction of Bulgaria’s
Macedonian struggle for independence is significant, the film director places genuine
emphasis on the metamorphosis of the protagonist’s consciousness, rising from an
ignorant and illiterate shepherd to a leader and a revolutionary. With Measure against
Measure, Djulgerov broke the taboo of speaking about the Macedonian question, a
64 Macedonia was still under Turkish control after 1878.
65 Eleanor Mannikka, plot synopsis of Mera spored mera (Boyana Film), [online]; accessed
29 May 2010; available at http://www.allmovie.com/work/mera-spored-mera-150682; Measure
against Measure (Mera spored mera), dir. Georgi Djulgerov, writ. Georgi Djulgerov and Rusi
Chanev, perf. Rusi Chanev, Grigor Vachkov, Stefan Mavrodiyev, and Bogdan Glishev, Boyana
Film, 1981.
252

controversy still disputed to this day. He was the first to actually make a film about the
Macedonian uprising against the Ottoman Empire. 66
The film was met with reservations by the critics and the public, although it
attracted over 1.2 million viewers. Measure against Measure received a prize for best
director in 1981 at the film festival in Varna. The lead actor and co-writer, Rusi Chanev,
was awarded with the prize for best male performer. Djulgerov received the critic’s
prize. 67 However, at some point, protests came from the upper echelons of the Party, but
the scandal was started by the history faculty of the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences. As
Djulgerov shared in an interview, “some historians took the film as an arena about
debates related to the heated Macedonian question. Consequently, a letter arrived at the
Central Committee of Politburo signed by seventeen historians with Ph. Ds who labeled
the film as ‘shameful for the Bulgarian nation.’” 68 Shortly thereafter, another letter
signed by twenty-four lower ranking Doctors of History reached the offices of the
66 Mera spored mera featured a Macedonian protagonist and centered on the Ilinden uprising
of 1903 in Greek Macedonia. This is how Djulgerov describes the plot: Set in the early 20th
century, this is an era of seething passions, aspirations for freedom and national selfidentification.
Uprising are incited, blood is shed. The picture features national leaders who
become heroes as early as in their lifetime. The protagonist is a rank-and-file Macedonian who is
unwittingly swept by the events. Later, it was his conscious choice. He was a witness of changes,
crucial for the nation. He comes across legendary personalities. He gets enchanted and
disappointed. He is seeking for the right answers, rethinks what he saw and experienced to tell his
story in simple, but candid and wise words of his own. Along with the character of main
protagonist Tanas, the film features several prominent revolutionary leaders, such as Gotze
Delchev, Yane Sandanski, Gyorche Petrov and Hristo Chernopeev, as well as a host of
mythological creatures organically integrated into the fabric of the story. Georgi Djulgerov, plot
summary of Mera spored mera (Boyana Film), [online]; accessed 29 May 2010; available at
http://www.imdb.com /title/tt0082728/plotsummary.
mera.”
67 Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Mera spored
68
Georgi Djulgerov, interview with Genoveva Dimitrova in Rodina, (Homeland) 12, 28 Jun.
1988 (author’s translation).
253

establishment, stating that nothing was wrong in the film, that the director had the right to
summarize historic events and to impose his artistic interpretation. 69 It was too late—the
Politburo was nervous.
Greece had always enjoyed excellent relations with Zhivkov’s Bulgaria.
However, a portrayal of the Macedonian question which brought Bulgaria to the forefront
as a dominant player in the area could alienate Greece and Bulgaria’s other Balkan
neighbors, such as Albania and Yugoslavia, and could be perceived as “Slavophile”
propaganda, giving rise to Slavo-Macedonian nationalism. In fact, the Macedonian crises
that occurred between 1991 and 1995 after the breakup of former Yugoslavia and the end
of the Cold War, demonstrated that the fears of the government were justified. 70
As a result, Djulgerov was temporarily fired and not allowed to make another film
until 1985 when Gorbachev came to power. In point of fact, the film director did not at
all attempt to advocate radical nationalism and alienate the Party. Rather, his film was
focused not on the Bulgarian case of ethnic belonging in Macedonia but on, more
abstractly, one of his favored themes—the nature of revolutions and the essence of the
revolutionary hero. He treated the subject of revolutions in the same fashion as in his
cause célèbre film …And the Day Came (I doyde denyat) (1973). 71 The filmmaker was
69 Ibid.
70
James Pettifer, ed., The New Macedonian Question (Houndmills, UK: Palgrave, 2001),
227–238.
71 …And the Day Came is based on the following story: September 9, 1944 – Bulgaria leaves
the Nazis and the partisans descend from the mountains. Among them are Mustafa, Pshenichka
and “the Phantom.” During the first days of national celebration, extraordinary events happen as
seen through Mustafa’s eyes. (Mustafa was played by Plamen Maslarov.) He has doubts about the
use of violence and the administration of justice. His dead friend Matei is constantly with him. In
an imaginary dialog, Mustafa evaluates his own actions and those of the others. Memories and
philosophical deliberations recount how some fears emerge, some heroes become traitors, and
254

not afraid to show the charm, but at the same time the cruelty of some revolutionaries.
His protagonist is a shy and confused man who turns into a revolutionary. Intentionally,
the hero lacks the pathos of the cultist period in art before Stalin’s death.
The driving force behind the film in Djulgerov’s own words was to show how, in
a small and backward country, such as Bulgaria, somewhere in the background of history
the same processes can happen that are specific to the ripening of each nation, such as in
France and Russia, for example.
We received our independence as a present in the 19 th century from
countries with imperialists’ intentions. I wanted to demonstrate that in the 20 th
century, we were ready to fight for our own freedom. The uprising in Macedonia
demonstrates this willingness par excellence. The paradox is in the fact that
exactly there where the longing for freedom was the strongest, the events played
out as a tragedy. 72
As the director continues, other themes that were important to him were
compassion and endurance as alternatives for violence.
These themes are crucial for me because I argue that history can be
changed or made without violence. Didn’t we tolerate enough violence? We need
to know well our history, because every new generation should not start from
zero…September 9, 1944 [the day in which Bulgaria became Communist.] We
need to constantly explore our identity and our past and measure ourselves
against the other nations. It is important that you are in time and reflect on it in
the way you feel it, according to you and not to somebody else’s orders.
What do I think about revolutions? They are an attempt for change,
violence against the human being in order to better him. But there is great risk of
hurting him, as well. I see another generation coming. Those people are talented
and interesting but the Revolution is not one of their themes. They do not have the
ideas that we had and lost. We went through a crisis.
I remember conversation with a student of mine that we had during the
rehearsal of Measure against Measure. She told me, “You are very excited about
Stalin, about his epoch, about everything connected to him. You won’t be able to
others continue to love and to establish life, even with their death. …And the Day Came (I doyde
denyat), dir. Georgi Djulgerov, writ. Vasil Akiov, perf. Plamen Maslarov, Elena Mirchovska,
Asen Kisimov, and Pantelej Pantaleev, Boyana Film, 1973; Gencheva, vol. 3, 126–127.
72Georgi
Djulgerov, interview with Dima Dimova, in Filmovi Novini (Film News) 6, 1988
(author’s translation).
255

make a film on these subjects. We will make it, because we [the new generation]
have no biases.” I replied: You will never make it, because this subject does not
move you. 73
The interview demonstrates the value system of Djulgerov and his restlessness
about the tension between humanistic ideas and the necessary violence for enforcing
them on society. Despite the happy ending of the film, the viewer is left with a bitter taste
and vivid memory of the intensely violent scenes. The conflict between ideas and reality
remains unresolved. This interview excerpt illustrates also the presence of a generational
gap during the 1980s, which contributed to the pessimistic view about the future that
many filmmakers shared. 74 As Plamen Maslarov, who called his contemporaries occupied
with film “the lost generation,” pointed out in an interview:
Sadly, we could never develop schools or traditions in Bulgaria, such as
“the Fellini tradition” or “the Rosselini tradition.” We do not have “Djulgerov’s
school” or “Radev’s school,” for example, despite the fact that the two directors
had their students at the Bulgarian National Academy of Theater and Film Arts
“Krustyo Sarafov” during the 1980s. 75
73 Ibid.
74 One major reason for the lack of continuity is that the new generations lacked the idealism
of their predecessors. The young just wanted to leave behind the dictatorial past and start from
zero, ironically exactly, as the Communists had done in 1944.
75 Plamen Maslarov, interview with author, 10 Jul. 2007. Plamen Maslarov was born in
1950. He was trained as a stage producer at the Higher Drama School in Sofia from which he
graduated in 1973. Until 1975 he worked as a producer at the Plovdiv Theater. As a film director
he did not confine himself to features. He has worked as an assistant director, played the lead in
Georgi Djulgerov’s …And the Day Came (I doide denjat) (1973). He regularly collaborated on
the scripts for his feature film, and has even helped out with some of the scripts for Edouard
Zahariev’s films including My Darling, My Darling (Skapa moya, skapi moy) (1985).
He made his feature debut with Miron’s Love (Lyubovta Miron) (1980), a short feature shot
about the invisible betrayals of love and friendship. In 1982 he made Sunshine Feathers, a
children’s fairy tale television musical. Green Fields (Zelenite polya) (1984), a film about the
conflict between the urge for inner freedom and philistine mentality shows an attitude that is at
once lyrical and ironic. The Judge (Sadiyata) (1986) was an attempt to combine a pure adventure
story genre with elements from the history of Bulgaria. Maslarov directed Not for Adults
(Zabraneno za vuzrastni) (1987). He became the head of the National Drama Theater “Ivan
256

Women in “Manly Times”
A prostitute is not only a prostitute; she is above all, a woman. 76
–Christina, an Italian prostitute
Life is dirty and brutal. 77
–Anita in Obsession
Never trust to a whore. 78
–Salome in Love and Anarchy
During the decade of the 1980s, two significant films about women were
produced, A Woman at Thirty-three (Edna zhena na trideset i tri) (1982) and Central
Hotel (Hotel Central) (1982). Central Hotel is the first Bulgarian film that openly places
a prostitute at the center of the narrative. Until the early 1980s, the fact that a character in
a film could be a prostitute was rather implied and not openly stated. 79
The drama takes place at the beginning of the 1930s in a small provincial town.
The protagonist, Tinka, is a chambermaid as well as a call girl in a hotel. Tinka enters the
world of sex and corruption by accident, being brought to the hotel by a pimp who first
deceives her that she will receive a decent job and after that brutally rapes her in order to
Vazov” in 2001, and the Director of the Bulgarian National Film Archive in 2004. Maslarov died
unexpectedly on June 8, 2010. “Renowned Bulgarian Film Director Plamen Maslarov Dies at
60,” obituary, Sofia News Agency, 9 Jun. 2010 [online posting]; accessed 17 Jun. 2010; available
from http://www.novinite.com/view_news.php?id=116986.
76 Nanette J. Davis, ed., Prostitution: An International Handbook on Trends, Problems, and
Policies (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1993), 157.
77 Dhia Christani, perf., Obsession (Ossessione),writ. Luchino Visconti and Mario Alicata,
dir. Luchino Visconti, Industrie Cinamatografiche Italiane, 1943.
78 Mariangela Melato, perf., Love and Anarchy (Film d'amore e d'anarchia, ovvero
'stamattina alle 10 in via dei Fiori nella nota casa di tolleranza...' ), writ. and dir. Lina
Wertmüller, Euro International and Labrador, 1973.
79 Good examples are the films Monday Morning and Advantage.
257

make her obedient. Shortly after the cruel rape scene, the hotel owner, a creepy and
repulsive man, enters the room and rapes the girl for a second time. Dislocated and
traumatized by the abuse that she encounters, Tinka submissively stays at the lodging.
There is another girl working at the hotel, but being more “talented” Tinka is often sent
by the unscrupulous hotel owner to the chambers of the most prestigious hotel guests to
be their sex companion during their stay. Tinka succeeds in attracting a large array of
admirers who become frequent visitors seeking her company. The young woman sexually
services the most important men in the small town, such as the pharmacist, influential
business and land owners, and the police officer, among others. The hotel is also a
character in the movie. It is a ghostly and filthy place, full of cockroaches, empty alcohol
bottles, and dirty dishes. The rough physicality in the film merges with the superfluous
idyllic calmness of the murky town.
The Felliniesque moment comes when the monotonous and sleepy rhythm of the
decadent little town is disrupted by the arrival of an eccentric and colorful traveling
actors’ troupe, staying at the hotel while performing at the local theater. For the first time,
Tinka meets something of a role model, the actress Neli Zorina. The two women bond.
Soon, however, the young girl discovers that the actress is not so different from herself,
because she also gives sexual favors in order to keep her job at the traveling theater. The
world of the actors is based on false pretenses. 80
Similar to the prostitute embodied by Giulietta Masina in Nights of Cabiria (La
notti de Cabiria) (1956) 81 , Tinka, despite the brutality and hardships that she endures,
80 Central Hotel (Hotel Central), dir. and writ. Veselin Branev, perf. Iren Krivoshieva,
Zhivko Garvanov, Valentin Gadzhokov, and Boryana Puncheva, Boyana Film, 1983.
258

never loses her faith in the good of this world. Tinka leaves heartbroken. The actress
gazes at her broken mirror on the wall. Tinka experiences epiphany and finally decides to
break free. She admits,” I am ashamed for the whole world. How can we live like that?” 82
The film ends on a somewhat optimistic note showing Tinka finally finding courage and
departing with the train from the town in an unknown direction. A cheerful, clown-like
man in the train attracts her attention by making funny faces at her. Soon, she
understands that the man is a prisoner being transported to a new prison. In the final
scene, the spectator sees Tinka crying and alone in the train. 83
This film convincingly shows that the neo-realist tradition in the Bulgarian
cinema was not dead. An ordinary woman is depicted as a victim and at the same time as
a survivor of an evil and destructive social environment in which men are responsible for
the horrendous conditions surrounding women’s fate. Tinka functions as a holy fool and a
Christ-like character and at the same time as a clever manipulator of her destiny. At one
point she becomes so desirable to the hotel guests that she is able to determine when she
will accept and whom she will accept as a client.
Similarly, in Italian cinema, these women are not glamorous and most often they
are very sympathetic and human. They are not sex objects and fetishes designed to stoke
the male desire. They do not operate as despicable bad girls, carrying the “whore stigma.”
81 As presented in Federico Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria (Le notti di Cabiria) (1956), the
prostitute is goodhearted, naïve, and sweet. The character of Cabiria, played by Giulietta Masina,
was in Fellini’s earlier satire The White Sheik (Lo sceicco bianco) (1952). A good commentary
on the “open form” that Fellini uses in Nights of Cabiria is offered in the article of John C.
Stubbs, “The Fellini Manner: Open Form and Visual Excess,” Cinema Journal 32, no. 4 (summer
1993): 52–55.
82 Iren Krivoshieva, perf., Central Hotel (Hotel Central).
83 Central Hotel (Hotel Central).
259

If they sometimes appear “tarty,” wearing miniskirts, stockings, high heeled shoes or
boots, skintight clothing, red lipstick, and a spackling of makeup, this “excess of
femininity” is employed as a device in order to stress a certain grotesque outlook and to
accentuate the tragic aspects of the commoditization of the female body rather than as a
tool for the manufacturing of objects of male lust. 84 The two films testify to something
very important and unusual, namely that already in the aftermath of World War II,
prostitutes in the imagination of major artists of the period were not perceived as
marginal. These images departed sharply from the cliché of the fallen woman as a savage
and dangerous “other.” The ability to portray the prostitute as an ordinary human being,
who faces the same problems related to alienation, economic hardship, and despair as her
male and female counterparts, is one of the strongest achievements of the neorealist
tradition.
Another neorealist film with woman as a protagonist , A Woman at Thirty-three
(Edna zhena na trideset i tri) by filmmaker Christo Christov and scriptwriter Bojan
Papazov, features an attractive woman in her early thirties named Minka, who works as a
secretary for the faculty of a university in a provincial town. She is also a part time
student and a single mother who lives in a dormitory together with her little daughter. Her
life is full of work and constant hardships and troubles. Under her apartment door, she
often finds anonymous letters with the phrase “dirty whore.” At work, she is constantly
harassed by her boss’s wife who mistakenly suspects that Minka is having an affair with
her husband. Minka also experiences difficulties with her physically abusive ex-husband
and the father of her child, who is constantly harassing her. Minka is also forced to
84 Good examples are the films of Fellini or Wertmüller.
260

provide sexual favors to a colleague who threatens to expose “her secret” that she lives in
a cheap student dorm, supposedly reserved only for full-time students.
Featuring the harsh life of a woman from the province, Christov exposes a
gloomy world full of corruption and double standards. The research assistants of a Party
activist needing a Ph.D. write their boss’s dissertation. Minka’s married colleagues
pretend to be divorced in order to be able to keep their two apartments. 85 After being
physically assaulted by her ex-husband, Minka goes to the police to seek protection. The
militiaman tells her that he does not know how to help, advising her to go back home and
return the next week. She is further attacked and beaten by unknown men in the dark. At
the end of the story, the heroine is shown walking blissfully along a street covered with
fresh snow, laughing, and hugging her little daughter. Despite the sinister drama, the
finale is uplifting: Minka embraces the only unspoiled and authentic experience in her
life—being a mother.
After the film, a devastating article appeared in the conservative newspaper
Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), written by one of the most docile art critics,
Vladimir Karakashev. The editorial was intended to repress and frighten the intelligentsia
and demonstrate that “the golden 1970s” were over. Despite pressure from the upper
echelons of the Central Committee, no other member from the ranks of film critics agreed
to sign the piece. Nevertheless, Christov was dismissed from his post as president of the
Bulgarian Film Union. The scriptwriter Bojan Papasov was fired, as well. As Alexander
85 A Woman at Thirty-three (Edna zhena na trideset i tri), dir. Christo Christov, writ. Boyan
Papasov, perf. Lilyana Kovacheva, Bogdan Glishev, Veselin Vulkov, and Gergana Bardarova,
Boyana Film, 1983.
261

Janakiev comments, with this action, the natural development of the cinema was crushed,
and as a result, in the aftermath of the scandal, an array of weak films emerged. 86
Yet, in 1981, Binka Zhelyazkova made two stunning documentaries devoted to
women: Lullaby (Na-Ni-Na) (1981) and The Bright and Dark Sides of Things (Lize i
opako) (1981). The films explore the daily existence of women behind bars in provincial
Bulgaria. The Bright and Dark Sides of Things opens with the sinister confession of a
prisoner who was convicted of killing her own children. The viewer sees the woman
nervously smoking a cigarette and remembering the brutal physical abuses that she and
her children had to endure from her husband and how nobody was willing to help her
escape the vicious cycle of violence. She recalls how finally she, destitute and pregnant
with her third child, and with two little ones in tow, mustered all of her courage to escape
on a train without even the money to purchase a ticket. Further, she continued to live by
changing from one train to another until she and her children were commanded to leave.
Alone and exhausted in a dark and unknown train station with her children, somewhere in
the middle of nowhere, she fell asleep not knowing that her children were eating
poisonous wild mushrooms growing close to the rails. When she woke up, her children
were dead. She was brought immediately to the local prison on charges of infanticide. As
she ends her confession, she closes with, “I do not feel guilty for the death of my
children.” 87
The film shows a school for female prisoners. One of the inmates exclaims, “I
cannot concentrate when I study here. I want to be home with my children. We all know
86
Entziklopediya Bulgarsko Kino (Encyclopedia of Bulgarian Cinema), s.v. “Edna zhena na
33.”
87 The Bright and Dark Sides of Things (Lize i opako), dir. Binka Zhelyazkova, 1981.
262

the mother is the one who holds the family together.” The gaze of the viewer stops at a
huge poster in Communist-style hanging from the prison walls: “Mama, where are you? I
miss you!” Another woman tells the story of how the prison’s electricity, water, and food
rations were recently cut off by the town. The theme about innocent children having to
grow up behind bars because that is where they are born and that is the only place that
will care for them is deepened in the next cycle of prison documentaries, beginning with
Lullaby (Na-Ni-Na). The film opens showing baby cribs lined up like prisoners in a cell.
The cribs also have bars, which creates the powerful impression of a prison within the
prison. Inside are crying newborns. Because their mothers are criminals, they are
separated from their babies, only being able to visit their children once a month. As a
woman shares,“we hear them cry and we cannot go.” 88
The two chilling documentaries are oeuvres par excellence of cinéma vérité.
They do touch on existential issues such as human freedom (or the lack of it), but at the
same time also address important human rights issues. The films expose contemporary
problems, such as the treatment of minorities in Bulgaria in the 1980s (many of the
prisoners are gypsies) and illustrate the culture of poverty which, if not combated at its
roots, will breed more crime, more desperation, and more human suffering. At its end, the
documentary presents evidence that babies born in prison eventually return and die in
prison as criminals. Made in the years before perestroika and after the golden 1970s, it is
stunning that the two documentaries, Zhelyaskova’s new rebellious provocations, were
not suppressed.
88 Lullaby (Na-Ni-Na), dir. Binka Zhelyazkova, 1981.
263

The exploration of female representations in Bulgarian films during the Cold War
era led to a surprising conclusion. Women in Bulgarian cinema were not simply “a
woman.” 89 In other words, women film protagonists had functioned traditionally as mere
erotic objects that were “redeemed” by males, or, more recently as in some films of
Godard, were denied salvation. 90 True, female protagonists in Bulgarian films were often
depicted as victims of the social environment or of the patriarchal code. However, the
explicitly erotic element is very often missing from the female characters. They are
shown without the usual “masquerade” of feminine attributes, such as red lips, high heels,
and seductive dress. Rather, the Bulgarian female heroines were authentic looking and,
unlike their Western counterparts, were unaware of their erotic potential. At the same
time, male characters were depicted in similar fashion. For example, males were similarly
confused misfits, marginals, and victims of the social environment. In this regard, both
Eastern European women’s and men’s dissociations from what was publicly believed to
be “feminist causes” deserves special consideration.
Leading directors from the Eastern Bloc have distanced themselves from
“feminism,” a stance that leaves us facing the curious phenomenon of clearly committed
feminist filmmakers who are reluctant to identify themselves as “feminist.” 91 Leading
89 Pierre Sorlin has argued “a woman is a woman,” meaning
The presence of women is an indispensable element of spectacle in normal narrative
film… Traditionally the woman displayed has functioned on two levels: as erotic object for the
characters within the screen story, and as erotic object for the spectator within the audience...
The man controls the film fantasy and also emerges as the representative of power… His power
as he controls events coincides with the active power of the erotic look, both giving a satisfying
sense of omnipotence. Pierre Sorlin, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” Screen 16/3 (1975),
10–12, cited in Sorlin, 201.
90 A good example is Godard’s A Woman is a Woman (Une femme est une femme) (1961).
91 Iordanova, 123.
264

Bulgarian film scholar Alexander Janakiev shared in an interview, “the gender divide
does not exist here [in Bulgarian film].” 92 This ambiguity appears to be the product of the
culture of poverty or the Communist culture in which everybody seems to be poor and
disadvantaged. On the other hand, such reluctance was a reaction against the aggressive
importation of Western feminism, which started slowly penetrating the Eastern Bloc
during the 1960s. Clearly, to ascribe women’s problems only to the patriarchal code in
such countries as Bulgaria is absurd. As Iordanova comments, “What was more
important to Eastern European filmmakers was to focus their attention on concrete social
issues and not on abstract patriarchy.” 93
The official Communist ideology always stressed the importance of women’s
emancipation and their obligatory participation in the labor force in this way making the
Western mainstream feminist appeal for liberation from home irrelevant. In conclusion,
male and female filmmakers in Bulgaria created sophisticated and multidimensional
female protagonists on the screen. They rebelled against patriarchy and social injustices
and, despite the characters’ final demises; they succeeded in transcending the rigid
structure of Westernized sexual representation on the screen.
92 Alexander Janakiev, interview with author, 25 Jul. 2007.
93 Iordanova, 123.
265

Final Remarks
This chapter explored the development of the Bulgarian film industry in the final
decade of Communism. On the micro level, it appears that the collapse of the
establishment dragged into an unexpected decline the industry that otherwise would have
continued to flourish “within” the system by, ironically, rebelling “against” the system. A
look at the history of film from the macro-perspective offers a slightly different view. As
András Kovács comments:
To understand the cinema from the post-modern period (1980s and
1990s), one has to take into consideration both the transformation of forms of
mass entertainment and cinemas artistic utilization. Television, computer games,
and digital animation are new forms of audiovisual communication that
considerably altered the spectrum of this medium. New forms of audiovisual art
become intelligible only when once take into consideration their new functions
adapted more widely to the arts and communication, just as in the era of modern
cinema. 94
In other words, modern cinema was always “marginal” and its goal to become a
new way of thinking remained unfinished. 95 This section illuminated the sudden
disruption of the Bulgarian film industry and demonstrated that it mirrored within the
distinctive context of the end of the Cold War the patterns of decline prevalent in cinema
as a global medium.
94 Kovács, 48.
95 An interesting variation of the concept of Gilles Deleuze can be found in French film critic
Jean-Michel Frodon’s, L’âge modern du cinema française (The Modern Age of French Cinema)
(Paris: Flammarion, 1995). In his view, modern cinema was an attempt to realize the “essence of
the cinema,” that is, a new way of thinking, which is different from all other systems of though
(science, ideology, etc.). However, modern cinema remained marginal, and this project was taken
over by new electronic media. Frodon suggests that the modernist project to unfold the “essence
of the cinema” was a partial failure, and cinema’s evolution turns it into something else. The train
of thought could be developed consistently, provided that one gives up the concept of the
“essence of the cinema” and accepts the notion of the “essence of the audio-visual medium,” of
which cinema is only one, ultimately transitory, manifestation. Kovács, 48.
266

Epilogue
To pretend to accept what is imposed on us is a sinister comedy. First of
all we must live. So many things are capable of being loved that it is ridiculous to
seem to desire pain.
Comedy. Pretense. One must be sincere. Sincere at any price, even to our
own detriment.
Neither revolt nor despair, moreover. Life with what it has. To accept it or
to revolt against it is to place oneself in opposition to life. Pure illusion. We are in
life. It strikes us, mutilates us, spits in our face. It also illuminates us with crazy
and sudden happiness that makes us participants. It is short. That is enough. Still,
make no mistake: there is pain. Impossible to evade. Perhaps, deep within
ourselves, life’s essential lot.
Our contradictions. The mystics and Jesus Christ. Love. Communion.
Certainly, but why waste words. More later. 96
–Albert Camus
On November 18, 1989, the new dissident parties, The Bulgarian Socialists
(BSP) and the Union of Democratic Forces (UDF), held their first public meeting in front
of Sofia’s St. Alexander Nevski Cathedral. The crowds that joined the parties’ members
displayed posters featuring the former dictator Todor Zhivkov behind prison bars. The
multitude cheered that all political criminals should face trials. In January 1990, Zhivkov
was charged with “instigating national hostility.” On January 29, he was arrested and
placed in detention awaiting trial in June 1990. 97 Almost until the end of his life, he
remained under house arrest. Four major trials were conducted against the former head
of state. In the first trial, which did not open until February 25, 1991, Zhivkov was
96 Albert Camus, “Contradictions,” in Youthful Writings, introd. Paul Viallaneix, trans. Ellen
Conroy Kennedy (New York: Marlowe and Company, 1976), 210.
97 Judicial retribution is not a new phenomenon in Bulgarian political life. On November, 22,
1919, the Agrarian government of Alexander Stamboliyski adopted a law creating a state court
for “legal proceedings and punishment of those responsible for the national catastrophes of the
Second Balkan War (1913) and World War I (1915–1918). On September 30, 1944, the
Fatherland Front (FF) government passed a law providing for the prosecution of those politicians
who had led Bulgaria into World War II. Iskra Baeva and Evgenia Kalinova, “Bulgarian
Transition and the Memory of the Socialist Past,” in Todorova, Remembering Communism, 66.
267

accused of abusing state funds in the amount of 26.5 million leva for distribution of
money, cars, and apartments, mainly to popular actors, filmmakers, writers, and
intellectuals. As Baeva and Kalinova comment, “at first, there was great public interest,
but it began to wane as the trial failed to show convincing evidence for the condemnation
of Communism as a system.” 98 In 2005, one of the most renowned anti-Communists, the
intellectual Georgi Markov, commented sarcastically that “at least Zhivkov had given
benefits to people of some special merit.” 99 The trial ended on September 4, 1992,
sentencing the the former ruler to seven years in prison. Zhivkov’s attorneys appealed
and on February 9, 1996, the Bulgarian Supreme Court overturned the sentence.
The Supreme Court conducted three more trials against Zhivkov and his circle.
The second addressed the policy of renaming the approximately 800,000 Bulgarian
Turks, which took place between 1984 and 1985. As a result, in March 1990, the
government passed legislation allowing the population of Turkish descent to adopt their
original names. The Turkish language became an optional subject in schools. In 1993,
news broadcasts in Turkish were allowed on Bulgarian radio and in 2001, on Bulgarian
TV. In 1992, the Turkish émigrés from 1984 and 1985 were invited to return to the
country and receive back their confiscated property. Trials 3 and 4 addressed mainly the
responsibility of the economic failure of Communism dealing with issues such as the
growth of Bulgaria’s external debt and the causes surrounding the economic crises at the
end of the 1980s. 100
98 Ibid., 67.
99 Ibid.
268

The four major trials failed to distinctly establish Communism as an era of
criminal rule mainly because the new political regime in power quickly became
discredited as revengeful, corrupt and inefficient. In fact, by the mid 1990s, the standard
of living in Bulgaria drastically declined, many enterprises had closed, and agricultural
production was in shambles. The country did transform during the 1990s in terms of its
political system, cultural policy, and economic model. But, as a whole, in Bulgaria, as in
most Eastern European countries, the transition to democracy was and still is a long,
ambiguous, and painful process.
The profound change in the intellectual life of the country was marked by the
almost complete withdrawal of the state from cultural affairs. As already discussed in the
previous chapter, the impact of this political course was devastating, especially for the
film industry and the people involved in it. The soul-searching and concerns about the
future was already manifested in the films and interviews of filmmakers in the 1980s. As
Vania Stoianova comments:
The social and economic transformations after 1989 had a destabilizing
effect on the lives and value systems of several generations, forcing them to find
explanations for their personal experiences and the death of the political
regime…November 10, 1989, did not mark the beginning of a process of moral
healing. 101
In the 1990s, the film art experienced worldwide crises and at large the film
medium lost its magnetic, therapeutic, and cathartic functions, making the social ills of
the time of transition in Bulgaria even harder to bear. As critic Ivailo Znepolski
remarked, “The cinema before 1989 spoke about the humanity. We loved it because we
100 Ibid., 70.
101 Vania Stoianova, “The Communist Period in Postcommunist Bulgarian Cinema,” in
Todorova, Remembering Communism, 374.
269

felt the sense of communion, we were participants in its efforts to grasp the pain of the
world and heal it.” On the one hand, the filmmakers themselves wanted change; on the
other hand the political establishment distanced itself from cultural affairs. Many
promises were made by politicians who were quickly exchanged. The political climate
was unstable. The intellectuals were polarized in their political sentiments. As
cameraman Radoslav Spassov put it: “It is a pity that our active politicians abandoned the
intelligentsia. Our government should be represented also by artists and intellectuals.” 102
Georgi Djulgerov also lamented about the 1990s in an interview.
We were swept into the chaos of a revolution. Revolutions are not a good
thing…especially when it comes to culture…The problem is that we do not have
large dissident groups who can lead the country. Our dissidents were not ready
to rule. 103
Here, Djulgerov makes an appropriate remark that indicates the unusual and unique way
of dissent in the Bulgarian film culture. The revolt against the system was done within the
system and through the use of the so-called Aesop language or subversive codes. The
openly dissident intellectuals were small in numbers and first emerged in the time of
perestroika in an ironic way as conformists of the appeal from above for self-critical
restructuring.
This research explored the film culture in Bulgaria between 1944 and 1989. It
highlighted the paradoxical and multilayered fabric of the process of filmmaking,
illuminating the subversive character of film and its high esthetic merits. It demonstrated
102 Radoslav Spassov, “Ine sme izvun zakona” (We Are above the Law), interview with Iva
Nikolova, in Sega (Now) 12, 28 Sep. 1999 (author’s translation).
103 Georgi Djulgerov, “Bez obertonove svucheneto e skuchno” (Without Overtones the
Sound is Boring), interview with Krazimir Kastelov, in Imena (Names) 24, 17 Jun. 2005 (author’s
translation).
270

the uniqueness of Bulgarian film and its resemblance to European cinematic
masterpieces. Despite the efforts of filmmakers to salvage their achievements and
establish continuity, the film enterprise suffered major blows after 1989 from which it is
still recovering. Although hampered by limited commercial availability, the cinematic
works of the Cold War era remain popular and loved among large audiences until the
present day. Unlike the urge to abolish symbols associated with Communist power, such
as names, monuments, and holidays, no one seemed, after 1989, to relate the film images
made between 1944 and 1989 to the former dictatorship. To the contrary, films as a
paradoxical and rebellious form of language are perceived by the public as agents inciting
a desire for reconciliation with the past. The artisans involved in film production were
never publicly stigmatized for collaborating with the Communist regimes, and many
continue to participate actively in cinematic endeavors to this day.
271

APPENDIX A
Photographs
Photo 1 – East German film director Konrad Wolf after the 1959 screening of the
Bulgarian film Stars. (l. to r.). Screenwriter Angel Wagenstein, actors Jürgen Frohriep,
Sasha Krusharska, Wolf, and cameraman Werner Bergmann.
272

Photo 2 – Katya Paskaleva (center), actress; Pavel Pisarev (left), general director
of Bulgarian Cinematography; Nikola Korabov, film director; Ivan Andonov,
actor and film director.
Photo 3 – Binka Zhelyazkova (right) directing When We Were Young (1961)
273

Photo 4 – Dimiter Boynozov (left) and Rumyana Karabelova in When We Were Young
(1961)
Photo 5 – Georgi Djulgerov in his dorm room at the VGIK in Moscow (1963 or 1964)
274

Photo 6 – Ivo Obrenovic (Rade Markovich) and Lisa (Nevena Kokanova) in
The Peach Thief (1964)
Photo 7– Lisa (Nevena Kokanova) in church. The Peach Thief (1964)
275

Photo 8 – Capt. De Grue (Naum Shopov) and Ivo play chess. The Peach Thief (1964)
Photo 9 – Janet Miteva in The Attached Balloon (1967)
276

Photo 10 – The Attached Balloon (1967)
Photo 11 – Naum Shopov (left). The Painlevé Case (1967)
277

Photo 12 – Naum Shopov (left). The Painlevé Case (1967)
Photo 13 – Birds and Greyhounds (1969)
278

Photo 14 – Gueorgui Stoyanov (right of camera, with beard). The Third Planet in the
Solar System (1972)
Photo 15 – Gueorgui Stoyanov (far right). The Third Planet in the Solar System (1972)
279

Photo 16 – Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972)
Photo 17 – Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972)
280

Photo 18 – Katya Paskaleva as Maria in The Goat Horn (1972)
Photo 19 – Plamen Maslarov. …And the Day Came (1973)
281

Photo 20 – Elena Mirchovska and Plamen Maslarov. …And the Day Came (1973)
Photo 21 – Iana Guirova in The Last Word (1973)
282

Photo 22 – The Last Word (1973)
Photo 23 – The final haircut. The Last Word (1973)
283

Photo 24 – Binka Zhelyazkova (waving) at the 1974 Cannes Film Festival
Photo 25 – Father Eredia (Jan Englert) and Fanny (Edith Szalay). Doomed Souls (1975)
284

Photo 26 – Radoslav Spassov (left) and Edouard Zahariev. Villa Zone (1975)
Photo 27 – Mariana Dimitrova as Elitza in Manly Times (1977)
285

Photo 28 – Grigor Vachkov as Banko in Manly Times (1977)
Photo 29 – Elitza and her captors. Manly Times (1977)
286

Photo 30 – Elitza (Mariana Dimitrova) attempts to flee. Manly Times (1977)
Photo 31– Elitza in the Rhodope Mountains. Manly Times (1977)
287

Photo 32 – Elitza and Banko arrive at the village. Manly Times (1977)
Photo 33 – Radoslav Spassov (center) with actor Grigor Vachkov (right).
Manly Times (1977)
288

Photo 34 – Maria Statulova and Rusi Chanev. Advantage (1977)
Photo 35 – Dobrinka Stankova (left) with Pavel Popendov. Panteley (1978)
289

Photo 36 – Radoslav Spassov (left) and Gueorgui Stoyanov. Panteley (1978)
Photo 37 – Rangel Vulchanov (center left) and Radoslav Spassov (right). The Unknown
Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (1979)
290

Photo 38–Vulchanov (under umbrella) and Spassov (right of camera). The Unknown
Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (1979)
Photo 39–Vulchanov (left) and Spassov. The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes
(1979)
291

Photos
Photo Credits
1, 2, 5, 11–15, 19, Gueorgui Stoyanov private collection
20, 26, 33-39.
3, 4, 9, 10, 21–24 Elka Nikolova private collection
6–8 The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na Praskovi). Writ. and dir.
Vŭlo Radev. Perf. Nevena Kokanova, Rade Markovic,
Mikhail Mikhajlov, and Vasil Vachev. Boyana Film, 1964.
16–18 The Goat Horn (Koziyat Rog). Writ. Nikolai Haitov. Dir.
Metodi Andonov. Perf. Katya Paskaleva, Anton Gorchev,
Milen Penev, and Todor Kolev. Boyana Film, 1972.
25 Doomed Souls (Oshedeni Dushi). Writ. Dimityr Dimov and
Vŭlo Radev. Dir. Vŭlo Radev. Perf. Jan Englert, Edith
Szalay, Rusi Chanev, and Mariana Dimitrova. Boyana
Film, 1975.
27–32 Manly Times (Mazhki Vremena). Writ. Nikolai Haitov. Dir.
Edouard Zahariev. Perf. Mariana Dimitrova, Grigor
Vachkov, Velko Kynev, and Pavel Popandov. Boyana
Film, 1977.
292

ARCHIVAL SOURCES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bulgarian National Film Archive, Sofia.
fond Bulgarian Deed, n.d.
Primary Sources
Archives
Centralna Durjavna Archiva [Central State Archives] (CSA), Sofia.
fonds 1, 1B, 2, 107, 177, 303, 305, 383
1944, 1946, 1948, 1949, 1952-1955, 1958, 1959, 1970, 1971, 1979, 1980, 1984,
1985 and 1989.
Centralna Partiina Archiva [Central Party Archive], Sofia.
fond 1, n.d.
Interviews
Djulgerov, Georgi. Interviews with the author, 10 Jul. and 30 Jul. 2007.
Janakiev, Alexander. Interview with the author, 12 Jul. and 25 Jul. 2007.
Maslarov, Plamen. Interview with the author, 11 Jun. and 10 Jul. 2007.
Nikolova, Elka. Telephone conversation with the author, 4 Jan. 2010.
Pisarev, Pavel. Interview with the author, 30 Jun. and 17 Jul. 2007.
Spassov, Radoslav. Interview with the author, 19 Jul. 2007.
Stankova, Dobrinka. Interview with the author, 17 Aug. 2007.
Stoyanov, Gueorgui. Interviews with the author, 12 Aug. and 17 Aug. 2007.
Wagenstein, Angel. Interview with the author, 26 Jul. 2007.
Yordanov, Georgi. Interview with the author, 27 Jul. 2007.
293

Periodicals
Available at Bulgarian National Film Archive, Sofia, Bulgaria
Bulgarsko Kino (Bulgarian Cinema).
Cahiers du cinéma [France] (1954–1999).
Cinéma [France] (1997–2004).
Den (Day), 2 Feb. 1946.
Dubavska Istina (Danube Truth), Nov. 1987, issue 267.
Durjaven Vestnik (State Newspaper) (1946–1948).
Filmbulletin (Film Bulletin) (1981–2005).
Filmi (Films) (1950–2005).
Filmovi Novini (Film News) (1950–2005).
Kino (Cinema) (1970, 1975, 1989–2005, 2007).
Kinoiskustvo (Cinema Art) (1957, 1958, 1969, 1977).
Kinorabotnik (Filmworker) (1979, 1980).
Kultura (Culture) (1996).
Literaturen Front (Literary Front), 1958, no. 4.
Narodna Armia (Popular Army), Nov. 1987, issue 11765.
Narodna Mladej (Popular Youth), 10 Oct. 1977, issue 250.
Narodna Kultura (Popular Culture), 28 Apr., 1978, no. 7; 30 Nov. 1987, no. 245; 11
Nov. 1989.
Novini (News), 29 Apr. 1991, issue 4.
Otechestven Front (Home Front) 8 Oct. 1977, no. 10150; 11 Oct. 1977, no. 10153;
18 Jul. 1984, no. 12032.
Pogled (View), Nov. 1987.
294

Postif [France] (1966–1998).
Première [France] (1987–2005).
Profili (Profile), 15–21 Oct. 1996, issue 33.
Puls (Pulse), Nov. 1987, issue 46.
Rabotnichesko Delo (Workers Deed), April 1962, Vol. 114; 29 Nov. 1987.
Rodina (Homeland), 28 Jun. 1988, no. 12.
Sofia Trud (Sofia Work), 3 Nov. 1987, issue 129.
Spisanie Kino (Journal Cinema), 1975.
Subesednikm (Interview), 15–21 Oct., 1996, issue 33.
Trud (Work), 9 Feb., 2006.
Vecherni Novini (Evening News) (1977)
Zemedelsko Zname (Agrarian Flag), issue 268, 25 Nov. 1987.
Films
Adam’s Rib (Rebro adamovo). Writ. Anton Marinovich. Dir. Angel Wagenstein. Perf.
Emilia Radeva, Georgi Popov, Lubomir Kabakchiyev, and Nikola Popov. Boyana
Film, 1956.
Advantage (Avantazh). Writ. Georgi Djulgerov and Rusi Chanev. Dir. Georgi Djulgerov.
Perf. Rusi Chanev, Maria Statoulova, Plamena Getova, Plamen Donchev. Boyana
Film, 1977.
Aimée & Jaguar. Writ. Max Faeberboeck and Rona Munro. Dir. Max Faeberboeck. Perf.
Maria Schrader, Juliane Koehler, Johanna Wokalek, and Heike Makatsch. Senator
Film Produktion, 1999.
Alarm (Trevoga). Writ. Angel Wagenstein. Dir. Zachari Zhandov. Perf. Stefan Savov,
Nadya Stanislavova, Gancho Ganchev, and Dimitar Gachev. Boyana Film, 1950.
All is Love (Vsichko e lyubov). Writ. Boyan Papasov. Dir. Borislav Sharaliev. Perf. Ivan
Ivanov, Yanina Kasheva, Valcho Kamarashev, and Ibish Orhanov. Boyana Film,
1979.
295

…And the Day Came (I doyde denyat). Writ. Vasil Akiov. Dir. Georgi Djulgerov. Perf.
Plamen Maslarov, Elena Mirchovska, Asen Kisimov, and Pantelej Pantaleev.
Boyana Film, 1973
…and the Wild, Wild Women (Nella citta l’inferno). Writ. and dir. Renato Castellani.
Perf. Anna Magnani, Giulietta Massina, Myriam Blu, and Ada Passeri. Riama
Film, 1959.
The Attached Balloon (Privârzaniyat balon). Writ. Yordan Radichkov. Dir. Binka
Zhelyazkova. Perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Grigor Vachkov, Ivan Bratanov, and
Georgi Georgiev-Getz. Boyana Film, 1968.
Binka: To Tell a Story About Silence. Dir. Elka Nikolova. Vreme Film Studio, 2006.
Birds and Greyhounds (Ptitsi i hrâtki). Writ. Vasil Akiov. Dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov. Perf.
Stefan Mavrodiyev, Maya Dragomanska, Kiril Gospodinov, and Kosta
Karageorgiev. Boyana Film, 1969.
Central Hotel (Hotel Central). Writ. and dir. Veselin Branev. Perf. Iren Krivoshieva,
Zhivko Garvanov, Valentin Gadzhokov, and Boryana Puncheva.Boyana Film,
1983.
A Cricket in the Ear (Shturetz v uhoto). Writ. Nikola Rusev. Dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov.
Perf. Stefan Mavrodiyev, Pavel Papandov, Itzhak Finzi, and Tatyana Lolova.
Boyana Film, 1976.
Daughter-in-Law (Snaha). Writ. Aleksander Hadzhikhristov. Dir. Anton Marinovich.
Perf. Petar Dimitrov, Margarita Duparinova, Vyara Kovacheva, and Petar
Stoychev. Boyana Film, 1954.
Dawn over the Homeland (Utro nad rodinata). Writ. Kamen Kalchev. Dir. Anton
Marinovich and Stefan Surchadzhiev. Perf. Lubomir Kabakchiyev, Ivan Stefanov,
Zheni Bozhinova, and Apostol Karamitev. Boyana Film, 1951.
Death in Venice. Writ. and dir. Luchino Visconti. Perf. Dirk Bogarde, Romolo Valli,
Mark Burns, and Nora Ricci. Warner Brothers, 1971.
Do Communists Have Better Sex? (Liebte der Osten anders? Sex im geteilten
Deutschland ) Dir. André Meier. First Run / Icarus Films, 2006.
Doomed Souls (Oshedeni dushi). Writ. Dimityr Dimov and Vŭlo Radev. Dir. Vŭlo
Radev. Perf. Jan Englert, Edith Szalay, Rusi Chanev, and Mariana Dimitrova.
Boyana Film, 1975.
296

Downfall (Der Untergang). Writ. Joachim Fest and Traudl Junge. Dir. Oliver
Hirschbiegel. Perf. Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Ulrich Mattes, and
Juliane Koehler. Constantin Film Produktion, 2004.
The Goat Horn (Koziyat rog). Writ. Nikolai Haitov. Dir. Methodi Andonov. Perf., Katya
Paskaleva, Anton Gorchev, Milen Penev, and Todor Kolev. Boyana Film, 1972.
The Hare Census (Prebroyavane na divite zaytzi). Writ. Georgi Mishev. Dir. Edouard
Zahariev. Perf. Itzhak Finzi, Maya Dragomanska, Todor Kolev, and Georgi
Rusev. Boyana Film, 1973.
The Inspector and the Night (Inspektorât i noshitta). Writ. Bogomil Rainov. Dir. Rangel
Vulchanov. Perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Nevena Kokanova, Dimitar Panov, and
Stefan Gadularov. Boyana Film, 1963.
Kalin the Eagle (Kalin orelât). Writ. Nikola Ikonomov and Orlin Vasilyev. Dir. Boris
Borozanov. Perf. Ivan Dimov, Boris Ganchev, Mariya Yasnikova, and Petrana
Lambrinova. Boyana Film, 1950 .
Knight without Armor (Ritsar bez bronya). Writ. Valeri Petrov. Dir. Borislav Sharaliev.
Perf. Apostol Karamitev, Oleg Kovachev, Mariya Rusalieva, and Tzvyatko
Nikolov. Boyana Film, 1966.
Land (Zemya). Writ. Veselin Hanchev. Dir. Zachari Zhandov. Perf. Bogomil Simeonov,
Slavka Slavova, Ginka Stancheva, and Elena Hranova. Boyana Film, 1956.
Last Summer (Posledno lyato). Writ.Yordan Radichov. Dir. Christo Christov. Perf.
Grigor Vachkov, Dimitar Ikonomov, Bogdan Spasov, and Vesko Zehirev. Boyana
Film, 1974.
The Last Word (Poslednata duma). Writ. Binka Zhelyazkova and Stefan Tsanev. Dir.
Binka Zhelyazkova. Perf. Iana Guirova, Tzvetana Maneva, Aneta Petrovska, and
Emilia Radeva. Boyana Film, 1973.
Life Flows Slowly By (Zhivotat si teche tiho). Writ. Christo Ganev. Dir. Binka
Zhelyazkova. Perf. Bogomil Simeonov, Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Emilia Radeva,
and Ivan Bratanov. Boyana Film, 1957.
Love and Anarchy (Film d'amore e d'anarchia, ovvero 'stamattina alle 10 in via dei Fiori
nella nota casa di tolleranza...' ). Writ. and dir. Lina Wertmüller. Perf. Giancarlo
Giannini, Mariangela Melato, Eros Pagni, and Pina Cei. Euro International and
Labrador, 1973.
Love Game (Igra na lyubov). Writ. Vladimir Ganev and Yordan Hadzhiev. Dir. Yanush
Vazov. Perf. Lyuben Chatalov, Yordanka Lyubenova, Bistra Marcheva, and
Rumyana Gaytandzhieva. Boyana Film, 1980.
297

Manly Times (Mazhki vremena). Writ. Nikolai Haitov. Dir. Edouard Zahariev. Perf.
Mariana Dimitrova, Grigor Vachkov, Velko Kynev, and Pavel Popandov. Boyana
Film, 1977.
Matriarchate (Matriarhat). Writ. Georgi Mishev Dir. Lyudmil Kirkov.. Perf. Nevena
Kokanova. Katya Paskaleva, Katya Chukova, and Milka Tuykova. Boyana Film,
1977.
Measure against Measure (Mera spored mera). Dir. Georgi Djulgerov. Writ. Georgi
Djulgerov and Rusi Chanev. Perf. Rusi Chanev, Grigor Vachkov, Stefan
Mavrodiyev, and Bogdan Glishev. Boyana Film, 1981.
Medea. Writ and dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Perf. Maria Callas and Massimo Girotti. Euro-
International / Janus, 1969
Monday Morning (Ponedelnik sutrin). Writ. Hikola Tiholov. Dir. Christo Piskov and
Irina Aktasheva. Perf. Pepa Nikolova, Asen Kisimov, Kiril Gospodinov, and Petar
Slabakov. Boyana Film, 1966.
Nights of Cabiria (Le notti di Cabiria). Writ. and dir. Federico Fellini. Perf. Giulieta
Masina, François Périer, Franca Marzi, and Dorian Gray. Dino De Laurentiis
Cinematografica, 1956.
Obsession (Ossessione). Writ. Luchino Visconti and Mario Alicata. Dir. Luchino
Visconti. Perf. Clara Calamai, Massimo Girotti, Dhia Cristiani, and Elio
Marcuzzo. Industrie Cinamatografiche Italiane, 1943.
On a Small Island (Na malkiya ostrov). Writ. Valeri Petrov. Dir. Rangel Vulchanov.
Perf. Ivan Kondov, Stefan Pejchev, Konstantin Kotsev, and Ivan Andonov.
Boyana Film, 1958.
The Painlevé Case (Sluchayat Penleve). Writ. Svoboda Bachvarova and Evgeni
Konstantinov. Dir. Gueorgui Stoyanov. Perf. Naum Shopov, Konstantin Kotsev,
Stoyan Gudev, and Emilia Radeva. Boyana Film, 1968.
The Peach Thief (Kradetsât na praskovi). Writ. and dir. Vŭlo Radev. Perf. Nevena
Kokanova, Rade Markovic, Mikhail Mikhajlov, and Vasil Vachev. Boyana Film,
1964.
The Prosecutor (Prokurorât). Writ. Georgi Dzhagarov and Budimir Metalnikov. Dir.
Lyubomir Sharlandzhiev. Perf. Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Yordan Matev, Olga
Kircheva, and Stefan Pejchev. Boyana Film, 1968.
Senso. Writ. Luchino Visconti and Suso Cecchi d’Amico. Dir. Luchino Visconti. Perf.
Alida Valli, Farley Granger, Heinz Moog, and Rina Morelli. Lux Film, 1954.
298

Stars (Zvezdi). Writ. Angel Wagenstein. Dir. Konrad Wolf. Perf. Sasha Krusharska,
Juergen Frohriep, Erik S. Klein, and Stefan Pejchev. Boyana Film, 1958.
Stromboli. Writ. and dir. Roberto Rossellini. Perf. Ingrid Bergman, Mario Vitale, Renzo
Cesana, and Mario Sponzo. RKO, 1950.
Sun and Shadow (Slântseto i syankata). Writ. Valeri Petrov. Dir. Rangel Vulchanov.
Perf. Georgi Naumov, Anna Prucnal, Gustaw Holoubek, and Rangel Vulchanov.
Boyana Film, 1962.
Svetlana about Svetlana. Writ. and dir. Lana Parshina. Perf. Lana Parshina and Svetlana
Alliluyieva. Icarus Films, 2008.
Swap (Trampa). Writ. Vladimir Ganev and Georgi Djulgerov. Dir. Georgi Djulgerov.
Perf. Ilia Dobrev, Tanya Shahova, Margarita Pehlivanova, and Jana Mircheva.
Boyana Films, 1978.
Swedish Kings (Shvedskite krale). Writ. Nikolai Nikiforov. Dir. Liudmir Kirkov. Perf.
Tzvetana Maneva, Asen Georgiev, Yevstati Stratev, and Hindo Kasimov. Boyana
Film, 1968.
The Swimming Pool (Baseynat). Writ. Christo Ganev. Dir. Binka Zhelyazkova. Perf.
Kosta Tsonev, Yanina Kasheva, Kliment Denchev, and Tzvetana Maneva.
Boyana Film, 1977.
Tango (Tango). Writ. Georgi Karaslavov and Slav G. Karaslavov. Dir. Vasil Mirchev.
Perf. Nevena Kokanova, Petar Penkov, Petar Slabakov, and Stoyan Gudev.
Boyana Film, 1969.
Taste of Almonds (S Dâh na Bademi). Writ. Pavel Vezhinov. Dir. Liubomir Sharlanchiev.
Perf. Nevena Kokanova, Georgi Georgiev-Getz, Iskra Hadzhieva, and Dorotea
Toncheva. Boyana Film, 1967.
Tobacco (Tyutyun). Writ. and dir. Nicola Korabov. Perf. Nevena Kokanova, Yordan
Matev, Miroslava Stoyanova, and Ivan Kasabov. Boyana Film, 1962.
A Tree without Roots (Darvo bez koren). Writ. Christo Christov and Nikolai Haitov. Dir.
Christo Christov. Perf. Nikola Dadov, Nevena Kokanova, Marin Yanev, and
Pavel Popendov. Boyana Film, 1974.
Tsar and General (Tsar i General). Writ. Lyuben Stanev. Dir. Vŭlo Radev. Perf. Petar
Slabakov, Naum Shopov, Yevgeni Urbansky, and Stoyko Mazgalov. Boyana
Film, 1966
The Unknown Soldier’s Patent Leather Shoes (Lachenite obuvki na neznaniniya voin).
Writ. and dir. Rangel Vulchanov. Perf. Slavka Ankova, Emiliya Myrynska, Ivan
Stoychev, and Borislav Tsankov. Boyana Film, 1979.
299

Villa Zone (Vilna zona). Writ. Georgi Mishev. Dir. Edouard Zahariev. Perf. Katya
Paskaleva, Itzhak Finzi, Naum Shopov, and Stefka Berova. Boyana Film, 1975.
We Were Young (A byahme mladi). Writ. Christo Ganev. Dir. Binka Zhelyazkova. Perf.
Dimitar Buynozov, Rumyana Karabelova, Lyudmila Cheshmedzhieva, and
Georgi Georgiev-Getz. Boyana Film, 1960.
Whale (Kit). Writ. Cheremuhin. Dir. Petar B. Vasilev. Perf. Georgi Kaloyanchev, Dimitar
Panov, Georgi Partsalev, and Tzvyatko Nikolov. Boyana Film, 1969.
The White Room (Byalata staya). Writ. Bogomil Raynov. Dir. Methodi Andonov. Perf.
Apostol Karamitev, Elena Rainova, Dorotea Toncheva, and Konstantin Kotsev.
Boyana Film, 1968.
The Window (Prozoretzat). Writ. Konstantin Iliev and Petar Karaangov. Dir. Gueorgui
Stoyanov. Perf. Leda Taseva, Antony Genov, Dobrinka Stankova, and Velko
Kynev. Boyana Film, 1980.
With Love and Tenderness (S lyubov i nezhnost). Writ. Valeri Petrov. Dir. Rangel
Vulchanov. Perf. Alexander Dyakov, Tsvetana Eneva, Gergana Gerassimova, and
Yevgeniya Barakova. Boyana Films, 1978.
A Woman at Thirty-three (Edna zhena na trideset i tri). Writ. Boyan Papasov. Dir.
Christo Christov. Perf. Lilyana Kovacheva, Bogdan Glishev, Veselin Vulkov, and
Gergana Bardarova. Boyana Film, 1983.
Zorba the Greek. Writ. and dir. Mihalis Kakogiannis. Perf. Anthony Quinn, Alan Bates,
Irene Papas, and Lila Kidrova. Twentieth Century-Fox, 1964.
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