Postcard from Croatia: watching movies in medieval Motovun

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The 14th century gate that guards the Croatian hilltop village of Motovun invites reflection on bygone times. Visitors are greeted by a stone relief of the winged lion of Saint Mark, the symbol of the Venetian Republic, which for half a millennium ruled over this village and the thick Istrian forest that coats the valley below. 

So it was not surprising when a film festival volunteer who, like me, was seeking respite from the scorching sun under the stone gate, reminisced of a different era. “These streets used to be full of happy sleeping people, who were too drunk to walk down the hill to their tents,” she sighed wistfully, gesturing towards both cobblestones and a time when the festival still had a hedonistic reputation.

The Motovun Film Festival was first hosted in 1999, when Croatia was still navigating its early years of independence following the bloody collapse of Yugoslavia. From the start, it showcased the work of local, independent filmmakers, offering an alternative to the Hollywood films that were shown on TV. Much like today, there were no red carpets and most films were screened under an open sky.

The festival’s inclusive and progressive messaging, coupled with the low price of local wines, quickly made it a magnet for students across Croatia and neighbouring countries. At its height, up to 40,000 visitors crowded the village’s cobbled narrow lanes, people told me either in awe or horror.

About a decade ago, Motovun’s mayor Tomislav Pahović called the festival’s organisers to a public meeting with local residents, who had grown frustrated over the antics of visitors and the reputation the village was gaining. When I asked him to describe the mood of the meeting, Pahović rolled gently from side to side in his grey office chair, a modern addition to the municipal palace that has served as the base of Motovun’s leadership since 1271, and exhaled heavily. “Intense,” he offered with a smile, before launching into an explanation of how tourism cannot be sustainable without benefiting the locals.

Budget-conscious film aficionados and students are still allowed to camp for free at the foot of the hill, and concerts and parties still flood the ancient walls with strobe lights at night — but both locals and festival-goers agree that the festival has become geared towards a more mature crowd.

While many visitors still come for the wine, they are increasingly interested in sampling and spending money on the produce of a young and ambitious generation of Istrian winemakers, who specialise in regional grape varieties such as Teran and Malvazija. One such producer is Roxanich, housed in a former communal wine cellar just outside Motovun; since 2019, the winery has doubled as a boutique hotel with an infinity pool that overlooks never-ending rows of vines across the gentle hills. (It’s a 20-minute walk to the village, though it does involve more than 1,000 stairs.)

Local cuisine — distinctively Italian with a Slavic twist — is heavy with truffles, the trade in which has become an increasingly important business for villagers in recent decades. Motovun is particularly coveted for the white truffle; in 1999, a local hunter unearthed one weighing 1.3kg, a world record at the time.

Gluttonous activities aside, Motovun is worth visiting just for the film festival, which runs annually on what are often the hottest days of summer. The films on show are a poignantly curated mix of regional classics and international contemporary trailblazers, including shorts, documentaries and — a new addition for this year — a programme for children and young teenagers.

This will be the festival’s 25th edition and its most ambitious, as it embarks on a new trajectory that will perhaps allow for a bit more of its old temperament. It will move beyond its birthplace in medieval Motovun, opening a second location in the forested mountains of Gorski Kotar, a 120km drive to the east. There, organisers are planning to set up screens amid the trees to create an “enchanted cinematic village”, as well as a “one-of-a-kind domed cinema” (named Francis Ford Kupola).

These new screens sound impressive but will have a job to live up to the main one in Motovun that is hoisted over St Stephen’s square, named after the church that lines one side. On the final night of last year’s festival, I leant back in my plastic chair, momentarily distracted from the film, to take in the church’s 16th-century clock tower and the star-speckled night sky above. What cinema in the world could compete?

Patricia Nilsson is the FT’s Frankfurt Correspondent

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