Some stories are born out of silence.
This one — out of a drive. Out of a conversation. Out of a piece of history waiting for someone to speak in its name. It all began one day when my actor from the Mrki Theatre, my friend Azeglio Picco, came to a rehearsal at the Poreč Theatre. He looked at me with a smile and said:
“Kate, I have something crazy for you.”
I told him, “Wait until rehearsal is over and then we’ll go for a drive, so you can tell me everything in peace.”
In the car — and I’m pretty sure there was no coffee — Picco told me a true Istrian story from 1796. A story about Tar and Vabriga. About Father Martin Vellović, charismatic and defiant, accused of heresy. About Father Mate Corazza. About the county prefect Vuković. About letters that travelled all the way to the Venetian Republic. About the cavalier who was sent to investigate what was happening in Istria.
All of it was written on 300 pages in the Venetian archives — unearthed from dusty boxes by our friend and brilliant historian Gaetano Benčić, who transformed it into a synopsis.
And that’s when it happened — that famous click. In me, in the story, in everything. I devoured every word Gaetano wrote, breathed that story, lived inside it. I kept thinking about what else was needed to create the emotion that would tie it all together: what is the moral and emotional arc of the characters? What could be added, removed, lifted or softened to shape the tension?
Picco and I already believed in the film The Black Oath. We could see it in our minds — long before the trailer existed. For days we drove around and talked about everything: who had horses, where we could borrow period clothing, where we could shoot. Everything had to be timed perfectly, because Livio, Luka and Robert were coming for only two days, and we still had to shoot scenes with Robert and Olivera — inside a church. Livio and Luka were sword-fighting in the atrium of the Euphrasian Basilica.
Anyone who works in film knows how demanding all of this is; there are official job titles for every role 😉 but the list is long and dull, so I’ll shorten it to the essentials we needed at the time: shooting locations and permits, extras, doubles, makeup and hair, costumes, animals (horses), props, coordination with actors and crew, shooting schedules, set decoration and art direction, working with actors, script supervision, directing…
And with us, all of it was handled by one person — a true one-woman band — who organized everything, directed, coached the actors and, finally, edited it all. And of course, the exceptional Pino, who filmed everything with a single camera.
We shot the entire trailer in just two days. Nothing new for me — but this time, I enjoyed it to the bone.
I wrote the shots as if I were already editing them. I was inside that mist, inside every word, every tone, every expression and twitch of an actor’s face. The shots were unfolding on the monitor — each more beautiful than the last. It was an extraordinary experience and a love story — at first sight and for life.
The team included: Max Hozić — who helped me with the script and story; Zoran Trubić — I remember discussing logistics with him, and the music he composed for the trailer, atmospheric and superb. And Pino — with the camera and his excellent sense of lighting, mood and character.
I gathered them all and said:
“Guys, we’re going to make a trailer. If we only send the script — no one will understand how big and powerful this story really is. What a film this could become.”
The shoot lasted two days: horses, doubles, a period carriage, costumes, makeup, hair… sword fighting. A church in Fuškulin, the Euphrasian Basilica in Poreč, the atrium… the tavern (Picco’s studio). Night scenes. Love scenes (the studio in Castel Rausch). Mirza Novalija with the crane…
Trailer Cast – The Black Oath
Livio Badurina — Martin Vellović
Robert Kurbaša — Mate Corazza
Luka Dragić — Marco Antonio Mattei
Edvin Liverić — The Innkeeper
Olivera Baljak — Marija Zelenković
Dunja Sepčić — Wife of the Prefect
Azeglio Picco — Prefect Vuković
Amir Kazić — Soldier
And then came one of my favourite moments — Massimo, one afternoon at Oli and Darko’s, said:
“Kate, you have to give me a role. I’ll be your hunchbacked circus performer who announces the miracle.”
And he was. I wrote him into the script. I adored creating that character — all charm, madness and brilliance.
And my dear friend Sandra Sagena also wanted a role — an uninhibited Venetian courtesan in the passionate embrace of cavalier Marco Antonio Mattei. Those days, we were all living and breathing this film. That miraculous creative energy does wonders — it connects people, feeds them, gives oxygen to every vein in your body and everyone around you.
I will never forget how Livio and I went to the store to buy chicken skin for the dissection scene in the laboratory and “Ribice” snacks — which we needed for a more believable vomiting scene. At the checkout, we both got that forbidden wave of laughter — the kind you absolutely shouldn’t have, yet it bursts out uncontrollably. We’ve known each other since we were eighteen and have been through so much together — so when the cashier asked what kind of meat it was for such a low price, since it clearly wasn’t salami, inspiration struck.
Livio answered, dead serious:
“The chicken skin is for dissection. Katja, have the instruments been sterilised?”
And I replied, equally serious:
“Of course, Father Vellović. Everything is ready in the laboratory and waiting for you.”
Her expression is something I will never forget. Those innocent but confusing little moments were the highlight of our day. There were plenty of them — and that creative madness stays with you forever.
HAVC and All the producers – The Sound of Closed Doors
I sent the trailer and screenplay to HAVC, applying for “Feature Film Script Development.”
Twice — but without success.
I knocked on doors, wrote to producers, sent countless emails, showed everyone the trailer — which still looks better than most of what is being filmed in Croatia today. And everyone said:
“We don’t have time right now… Too demanding… Too expensive…”
Someone else might have given up.
I didn’t. Because when something matters to you — you don’t stop when they reject you. You stop only when you stop loving it.
So I said: Fine, if you don’t want a film — I’ll write a novel. If a door closes, I will open another.
And that’s how The Black Oath was born.
First as a book. Now — as a trilogy. And one day — it will be a film. I hope on the international market, not here. Because I believe in every page, and in every heart that beats inside it.
It reminded me of another story from my life:
Back in the ’90s, when I organised the Fashion News festival with around 60 designers from Croatia and Europe, Croatian National Television didn’t want to come film it.
“We don’t have the crew… it’s expensive… you know…”
So I contacted MTV in London directly.
They sent a crew, shot a report, loved it — and Croatian TV later aired their footage in the evening news.
Need I comment? Other than the classic line about “casting pearls…”
It was hard. Always a battle to the last drop of blood. I heard “no” so many times. Life stopped me in front of locked doors more than once. But I learned something: Dreams don’t ask for permission.
If something moves you, feeds you and shapes you — every “no” becomes fuel for a better “yes.” What is born out of truth, love and passion — always finds its way. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later.
Remember: never — absolutely never — give up.
And now, the doors to The Black Oath are wide open.
