Executive Film Producer at
www.thisisvertigo.com Argentina
I returned to the Pannonian plain after 89 years. Yes, my father left Hungary long ago, and one day I returned as if nothing had changed. To the locals, Hungary, Serbia, and Croatia are separate universes. But for someone from the vast distances of South America, they’re merely different circumstances, different languages. With elusive borders that are here today… and gone tomorrow. That’s why my gaze upon this region is inevitably personal.
Perhaps it’s because South America is a mosaic of cultures tied together — that’s how I see this place too. Looking back now, I realize: the Balkans weren’t a strategic decision. They were an existential one.I didn’t come here for a job offer or a market trend. I came because something in this fragment of Europe spoke to me in a language I didn’t know, but somehow understood. I arrived with a suitcase full of Argentine stories, a heart etched by tango, and a mind shaped by the swings of the Río de la Plata. I came to film, yes — but I ended up living. I came looking for locations and found human landscapes.
A sentimental geography
The Balkans can’t be explained. They must be crossed. They’re a puzzle of open wounds and untouched beauty. Each country, a geological layer of pasts that refuse to leave.
Serbia — with its quiet pride and underground energy.
Slovenia — orderly and kind, like an older sister who survived by staying silent.
Croatia — my adopted home, blending coastal sharpness with continental melancholy.
Here, I learned that history often weighs more than time. But also something more intimate: that you can belong without being local. That being a foreigner, in some contexts, is a radical act of honesty.
2025: The mirror year
This year held up a mirror to me. Francis died. Not just the pope. A symbol of a time I grew up in. An Argentine priest who managed to speak to the world through paradox: a Jesuit in Rome, a Peronist in the Vatican, a man from the slums in white robes. His death made me reflect on what’s left of my Argentine roots. What does it mean to be Argentine in Zagreb today? How much of my gaze is still porteño — and how much is now Balkan?
Cinema, my craft, became my shelter and trench. I produce for others, yes — but every shoot is also an excuse to understand this territory.
Filming in Belgrade, in the Slovenian mountains or on a beach in Cyprus — I’m not just looking for good shots. I’m decoding how stories are told in this part of the world.
Because if the Balkans taught me anything, it’s that every story is a negotiation with memory.
What remains
I have sons who speak Croatian and think in multiple languages. Friends who couldn’t locate Catamarca on a map, yet invite me to “Slava” like I’ve always been part of the family. And a past that no longer weighs me down, but follows like a useful shadow. Living in the Balkans isn’t easy. But it’s real. And in a world increasingly virtual and performative, authenticity is priceless.
Here, silence speaks louder than words. Gestures louder than speeches. And I, raised in a country where everything is constantly debated and reinvented, have learned to listen. To observe. To stop pushing.
The first song I learned in Croatian was “Heroj ulice” ( Hero of the street ) It tells the story of a kid who faces injustice and — without intending to — becomes a local hero. There’s something in that innocent yet fierce gaze… something still alive in the Balkans that reminds me why I stay. And when you come from Argentina and have seen everything collapse more than once…
Watching the social issues in Serbia, the economic troubles everywhere — life always taking wild turns — I can’t help but think:
Maybe it’s time to quote another song.
Serú Girán – Mientras miro las nuevas olas:
“Remember? The music goes on… but to me it sounds the same.”
The story continues. But friends… I’ve seen this one before.
Epilogue (for now)
I am “being”.
An Argentine thinker, Rodolfo Kusch, drew a powerful distinction between “being” and “being-there” (ser and estar).
“Being” is abstract, identity-driven, often colonizing.
“Being-there” is situational, attentive, open to change.
You are truly somewhere when you recognize it, accept it, and let it shape you. I don’t know if I am from the Balkans. But I am here. And in this act of being here, a new kind of belonging is born.
No titles. No need for official status. Just presence. 2025 isn’t a conclusion. It’s just a page. But one written with the thick ink of experience, contradiction, and mix.
Like the Balkans.
Like me.
Editor’s note: You can find Patricio Schwanek’s official website at the following link.