Daleko je Kandahar (2025/26) Review by Vesna Aralica (English translation)

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A Family in the Shadow of a Distant War

HNK Split: Anita Čeko, Daleko je Kandahar, dir. Tea Alagić

Scene 55 of the Split HNK is the venue for more intimate dramatic works: monodramas, dramolettes, or shorter plays with an emphasis on psychological and social themes.

The new theater season at Scene 55 opened with the play “Daleko je Kandahar,” directed by Tea Alagić (an internationally acclaimed, multilingual director, actress, and writer) based on the award-winning text by Anita Čeko, a prominent dramaturg, a psychologist and screenwriter who lives and works between Zurich and Zagreb.

“Daleko je Kandahar” is a predominantly realistic production that, with the vividness of its dramatic space, intimately draws the audience into the daily life of a completely ordinary Dalmatian family. With skillfully designed lighting and a video that mimics a lunar calendar and the inexorable passage of time, the daily scenes dynamically alternate with nighttime ones. Three generations—grandmother, mother, and two teenagers (Luce, Toni)—use colloquial conversation to lay bare their characters and current preoccupations. The absence of the father, a humanitarian currently serving in a dangerous war zone near Kandahar, Afghanistan, brings out the best and the most toxic in all of them.

Marija Šegvić authentically embodies a caring but overwhelmed mother who is gradually cracking at the seams because she can't keep everything under control, least of all juggling the dual role of parenting. Andrijana Vicković, in turn, humorously portrays a grandmother, an older woman still focused on life's small pleasures and the desire to let her hair down. The young Nika Petrović stood out for her immediacy in the role of the most verbally and theatrically active character on stage: a high school student focused on obsessive training, but also grappling with eating disorders and the loss of her period. In his monologues, Luka Čerjan channels those rare poetic flashes that mirror the inner world of a hypersensitive and empathetic teenager who volunteers at a children's association. But they also subtly underscore his profound loneliness. The reality for the father, loved only on a laptop, is marked by a long wait for his return to an everyday life deprived of much-needed male authority and emotional security.

Although the allegory of Toni's drunkenness and Luc's struggle with obsessive thoughts about training and weight is handled without a dramatic tone, the idea of a growing alienation within families with absent parents is subtly and wittily brought to the forefront. In general, Tee Alagić's direction, even in its aesthetic sense, rests on revelation. Even the hidden legacy of parenting from her mother's own upbringing is gradually unraveled like a ball of yarn in a vital dialogue with her grandmother, and even more intensely in her own confession to the world—essentially, a loud conversation with herself. Generational conflicts are only subtly hinted at as something quite common in all families; however, bearing the cross of constant fear and worry about the father's return places this family's life on the fringes of challenges, crises, and potential losses.

Both the set design and costuming are designed to highlight a contemporary living space, within which a thousand details speak to the habits and lifestyle of its inhabitants. When they are not at the same table, each of them turns to their own distractions—a powerful weapon for overcoming worries and maintaining mental well-being. Yet, it is from this very package that the greatest contrast emerges: while the ephemeral material and financial crisis witnessed by the mother is portrayed as transient and manageable, the absence of the husband and father is a focal point and a magnet for frustrations, which will experience their greatest rupture after a single phone call. Although the war is thousands of miles away, at one point powerful explosions echo through the scene, paralyzing the normal train of thought for the mother, child, and grandmother.

The play's turning point corresponds to the law of survival and the overcoming of trauma through forgetting: however much their return to a familiar daily routine, thanks to good news and newly made decisions, gives the impression of carefree living, it is only a matter of time before they face a similar situation again. The father in the virtual world (vividly embodied by Mijo Jurišić's voice and, at times, image) is part of their repressed concern, but also the inevitable catalyst for a different confrontation with reality.

Partly staged as a fun-humorous play about turbulent teenage growing up, Far is Kandahar is above all a play about the reality of many families today. The sensitive theme of family dynamics under the extraordinary circumstances of months of anxiety over a father's life brings many pressing questions to the forefront: those about the sustainability of marriage and family unity. Although the family's life scenario can be viewed more optimistically, a note of warning is directed at the absent father, who finds complete fulfillment in humanitarian work thousands of miles away from the family nest despite the growing danger, a reminder that fundamental humanitarian work begins right there, a place for building a child's self-confidence.

Although steeped in the Dalmatian setting and featuring a specific linguistic flavor shrouded in a guardedness toward the outside world, Far Away from Kandahar is a cautionary tale with universal messages (a play for teenagers and adults), and above all, a psychological guide to self-help and overcoming daily frustrations.

Director: Tea Alagić

Dramaturg: Anita Čeko

Set Design: Filip Triplat

Costume Design: Maja Peruzović

Music: Goran Cetinić-Koća

Video: Dragan Đokić

Lighting Design: Boško Kutlešić-Bijader

Starring: Nika Petrović, Marija Šegvić, Luka Čerjan, Andrijana Vicković, Mijo Jurišić