For weeks now, a scandal has been unfolding—one that has in the meantime taken on international proportions—concerning the (non)holding of the 59th Bitef Festival. The public is well acquainted with the reasons for the scandal, which boil down to the Bitef Board rejecting the program proposed by the festival’s curator, Miloš Lolić—one of our leading mid-generation directors, who has been living in Germany for more than a decade and works primarily in the German-speaking world—and his artistic team: theatre scholar Ana Vujanović and theatre critic Borisav Matić. It is also known that the program was rejected because of the name of one of the authors included in it: The Peliko Trial by Swiss director Milo Rau, a world-renowned theatre-maker and the director of the prestigious Vienna Festival. The artistic team withdrew and went public with accusations of censorship—accusations confirmed by the chairman of the Board, Svetozar Cvetković, who was the only member to vote for the proposed program; after it was rejected, he himself resigned.

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Rau has become persona non grata for the Serbian regime, which clearly influenced the Board’s decisions in one way or another, because at the opening of last year’s Bitef he gave a speech criticizing the lithium extraction project in Serbia. Because of that speech, even the former artistic director of Bitef, Nikita Milivojević, was denied a second mandate. Since all this is already known, our conversation with Miloš Lolić focuses on two questions: what was the general concept of the rejected program, and—above all, what the public is most interested in—whether Bitef will take place this year at all, and if so, what kind of Bitef it will be.

The public knows only that your program included one censored production, but not what else it contained. What program did you present to that ill-fated Board?

From the very beginning we knew that, at its core, our program had to address—in a broad sense—the situation our society has found itself in, with an emphasis on the student movement, the cultural scene, and the festival itself. And this was communicated very early on to the Board chairman in telephone conversations; I believe he relayed this to the Board. I wouldn’t want it to seem as if they were surprised. Even if we had wanted to, we could not have made a Bitef that would ignore all this, because that’s not the kind of festival Bitef is. In all of its programs, Bitef must be in touch with what is happening both locally and globally. We inherited that from all of you—our predecessors as artistic directors and selectors of Bitef. We felt a sense of duty to cover the various territories that Bitef has been opening for decades.

To begin with, that includes productions dealing with different—let’s say queer, though not only queer—identities. Although the focus was on the struggle our society has found itself in, we also wanted to preserve what I consider another important legacy of Bitef—the so-called Non-Aligned Movement legacy: creators, troupes, themes, and performance poetics that come from outside Europe or the Western world. We were keen to bring three productions: one from Rwanda, one from Argentina, and one from Palestine. Unfortunately we did not manage to, primarily because the budget was insultingly small—insufficient even for a small local festival. Since other festivals, theatres, and independent artists were also financially endangered due to budget cuts, we decided to partially change our strategy. The little money we did receive we redirected toward producing works by young artists from the local independent scene—those whose poetics are, so to speak, “Bitef-esque,” and who were perhaps hit hardest by the budget cuts. And the two international productions we selected—Milo Rau’s The Peliko Trial and Romeo Castellucci’s Bros—would also have engaged local performers in Belgrade, including some non-professionals.

In other words, the program mainly consisted of festival productions or co-productions?

Yes. Only one of the four local productions had already premiered: Suicide as a (Social) Fact by young director Ana Janković, produced by Bitef Theatre. Although I have certain reservations about the term, I’ll use it: it is “women’s writing,” a very specific artistic signature of a kind I have not yet encountered in our environment. The director herself appears on stage and speaks about what is personal to her, while everything remains suspended in a kind of vacuum—we don’t know whether it’s mere performance or also documentary.

The other three productions were all co-productions, or even exclusive Bitef productions, and all were thematically linked to the experience of young people engaged in this shared struggle. One is a production by Andreja Kargačin, co-produced with the Vienna Festival and the Voices Festival in Berlin. It is currently in rehearsals and still developing; I think it will remain a work-in-progress, because although it won’t have a cabaret format, it draws on the cabaret’s engagement with everyday reality, and therefore won’t have much that is fixed. It deals with the case of Andreja’s childhood friend who, due to participating in the protests, had to remain in asylum outside Serbia. The second is a dance piece by young choreographer Aleksandar Zain, which is not directly engaged—it would be impossible and unnecessary in this form of theatre—but it does refer to social reality already through its title: Tensions. It deals with different tensions within the human body, but also with the tensions Zain himself was exposed to in our society because of his identity. The third production may be the most interesting. It was extremely important for us—not only because it deals with the experience of the student blockades—to include in the program a master’s thesis project from the Faculty of Dramatic Arts. It is an example—rare here, though common elsewhere—of collective authorship, entirely in the spirit of the student plenums and other forms of self-organization that have emerged in the past year.

Regarding the two foreign productions in your program: everyone already knows about The Peliko Trial—a staged reading of documents from the trial of Gisèle Peliko’s husband and other rapists. How did Bros, the work of the celebrated Italian director well-known to the Bitef audience, Romeo Castellucci, fit into your program?

As if we commissioned that production ourselves. The greatest paradox in this whole affair is that Bros would have been a far more provocative production in the local context than The Peliko Trial. This only confirms our suspicion that the Bitef Board didn’t even consider the proposed productions—although they had the materials—but focused solely on the name of one artist. Castellucci’s production, among other things, thematizes police violence against peaceful citizens.

This brings us to what Rau announced a few days ago: the organization of an alternative, parallel, guerrilla Bitef. That would mean that Bitef, which the authorities kidnapped, has now been re-kidnapped—returned to those to whom it belongs: the domestic and international theatre community and our citizens, for whom its survival matters. This is a masterful move, very much in line with the student demands to liberate captured institutions, and also with Bitef’s original mission: problematizing official social and artistic norms. How is this envisioned—what will it include?

I’d like to take this opportunity to announce what we’ve agreed to call the independent Bitef, though personally I most like calling it the guerrilla Bitef. Our team has been thinking about it and preparing it ever since it became clear in which direction things were going—and all the artists whose works we initially invited are ready to support it and participate in one way or another. It will obviously not have major financial support or infrastructure, but it will take place—in December. We are currently finalizing agreements with foreign partners and allies in this struggle, who are willing not only to come to Belgrade but to do even more than they would in the context of a normal, peacetime Bitef.

It seems to me that it would already be enough if all of us—those from Serbia and abroad who care about the festival—were simply to gather at a visible, symbolically important location and spend time together. Even that alone could become a first-rate world cultural event. What strikes me is how worried the international media and expert public are about Bitef’s fate. None of us from the artistic team have been contacted by RTS, for example. They, like the local institutions who are supposed to deal with culture, show not only a lack of interest but, like the unfortunate Board, live in some kind of fear. Partners abroad are asking not only what will happen to Bitef but also how they can concretely help. They care far more about Bitef—even in guerrilla form—than many domestic structures do.

You were referring primarily to the media. It’s understandable that independent media, rather than pro-government ones, are leading the discussion about Bitef. But has the local theatre community—beyond the young artists whose works were invited into your program—offered you and your team support?

Yes, it has. Many of those who initially advised me not to accept the invitation to take the artistic helm of Bitef, or who believed that the official Bitef should not take place this year, have now reached out to offer support and are willing to help—or even participate in the guerrilla Bitef. Even artists from abroad whose works were not part of our selection—such as German director Ersan Mondtag, who has already addressed the Serbian public in a moving letter—are ready to come to Belgrade and support the struggle for Bitef.

As things stand at the moment, it seems there will be no official Bitef this year, since Castellucci has also withdrawn his production. That production was supposed to be a lifeline for the Board, which considers itself responsible—perhaps rightly on paper—for assembling a program even without an artistic leadership team.

I cannot say to what extent the Board is obliged, from that position, to organize any edition of the festival at all… Whether they might try to stage one using only domestic productions.

I don’t believe domestic theatres and artists will accept the option of participating in a mutilated Bitef. They have an even greater responsibility than international ones. And it’s hard to imagine political directives requiring them to participate in such an event. Are you afraid of someone taking over the festival, and what exactly would that mean?

It’s clear that what we’re dealing with here is revenge—revenge for nothing. In that much-discussed speech, no one was attacked directly except the now former German chancellor Scholz. Yet what followed were: Milivojević being denied a second mandate; a drastic budget cut; changes to the regulations giving the festival Board greater authority over the program while abolishing the positions of artistic director and selector; and, finally, this act of censorship. What else can we expect but that the revenge will continue—perhaps even by taking Bitef away from those of us who have always, in various ways, lived it, created it, followed it—and handing it over to those who are politically acceptable. Perhaps it is part of a broader “cultural policy” project—to demolish the public sector by eliminating cultural funding, and to commercialize Bitef and other important cultural events, institutions, and platforms, transferring them into the corporate sector, through companies like Millennium Team, Mozzart betting… It’s clear to us that such a Bitef—harmless, toothless—would be nothing more than an empty shell handed over to the incompetent and the malicious. Perhaps such a future awaits not only Bitef but other cultural institutions as well. But this cannot happen overnight or without a fight—it would require public debate, changes to legislation, and so on.

What you’re describing is, for now, only a grave—albeit realistic—danger. What is certain is that the Board will not be able to use any part of your program for an official Bitef, while the guerrilla one will take place. Although I assume they too face production challenges, especially financial ones, I do believe the domestic projects—all from the independent scene—can be realized.

There were challenges even when these projects were part of the official program. There was never enough money—even though the sums were tiny—for the basic needs of their authors. But what is interesting is that these young people are now determined to realize the works at any cost. We see the same thing with the student protests. If we older ones think something is unrealistic or irrational, that still doesn’t stop them. That is what fascinates me both about the protests and about the guerrilla Bitef. I am amazed that these people will not allow their right to create—to create as they wish—to be taken from them. And so this Bitef, which I want to invite the public to with this interview, may well be the most radical edition of the festival in its long history. Radical, therefore, are not only the themes of the productions, but above all, what motivates us to make it happen: the reasons for its survival under impossible circumstances.

But what about the two foreign productions? The Peliko Trial is performed entirely by local performers, it doesn’t require large sets, and Rau is ready to come to Belgrade and hold rehearsals. However, Castellucci’s Bros is more demanding production-wise: even though it involves local performers, there are still many participants who would have to travel…

For now I can state with confidence that, in one form or another, the entire program rejected by the Board will be performed within the independent Bitef. The backbone of that Bitef will undoubtedly be Milo Rau—through his production and through his personal presence in Belgrade. The Vienna Festival, which he heads, is after all a co-producer of one of the local productions… And Castellucci is also ready to participate in the guerrilla Bitef in some way—either by addressing our public and the international public live or through a recorded message, or by taking part in an online discussion about his production. And most importantly: he has allowed us to screen a recording of Bros. If we find a suitable venue, this will almost certainly happen, and with that the vision my team and I have long hoped for will be fully realized—a free, libertarian Bitef.

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Published on the website of the weekly magazine Radar, 13 November 2025.