Music has been banned in Afghanistan, and now an orchestra conductor and his son, a tuba player, attempt to start over by emigrating along the Balkan route. During their flight, seemingly endless, they cross paths with an Italian woman, a doctor. This encounter will change the two refugees’ lives and that of the young woman as well.

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:
My grandmother fought for our freedom in the 1940s. I grew up with her, and her stories of freedom denied have always fueled my imagination. In part, Balcanica grew out of this feeling of anger at those who practice interruption, denial, coercion, and censorship. Although I was very young when music was outlawed in Afghanistan, the news sowed its seeds in me for years, until Andrea Brusa and I decided to tell the story of the journey of Nazar and Jalil – Afghans, father and son, both musicians – bringing to the tale a western gaze, in the person of Greta, a character who expresses our point of view. The human body is an essential component of Balcanica, the sole vehicle of the journey itself. It walks; it holds out against the cold, the heat, and fear. Crossing borders, it becomes a repository of the violence, abuse, and rejection endured.