These days, almost everyone seems willing to share everything on social media.

Some even take it to the extreme, commercialising their entire family’s lives, including their children’s, in exchange for a few free products.

Most companies love it. They get to turn people into walking advertisements for peanuts.

But actress-turned-filmmaker Bojana Novakovic, who has been capturing her life on camera since the age of 14, has turned this idea on its head with her new documentary, The Forbidden Aunt, creating a portrait that is genuinely compelling and worthy of our attention.

When Novakovic travels from Australia to rural Serbia to explore the life of an eccentric and tormented aunt she has never known, she uncovers an unexpected truth, revealing how violence and trauma have shaped the lives of four generations of women in her family.

The Forbidden Aunt is a raw journey through generational pain, addiction and healing. An emotional roller coaster, the documentary unearths deep family secrets, ultimately reshaping the way these women understand each other, and themselves.

Audiences will know Novakovic from television series such as Love Me, Westworld and Operation Buffalo, and films including Birds of Prey, I, Tonya and Blackrock. But with The Forbidden Aunt, she may well establish herself as a formidable filmmaker in her own right.

“It was so personal. I was almost going to turn the camera off. The reason I didn’t turn the camera off is that I realised if I was just sitting there with them, acting as a moderator to their arguments, they wouldn’t talk that way.”

Interview by Matthew Eeles

It was interesting to read in your biography that you’re a community organiser. In what capacity?

In 2020, I learned about Rio Tinto’s proposed lithium mine in Serbia through a group of friends I was working with in New York who are from the Serbian diaspora. We decided to educate ourselves and some of the broader public about the project because we’d found out that some very specific, well-renowned scientists, chemists and biologists were expressing deep concern about it.cOne and a half years later, we’d created the biggest environmental movement in Europe. We had 100,000 people on the streets. I initiated a national campaign against the mine after I’d spoken to a plethora of experts about it.

We built relationships with local communities, scientists from the Serbian Academy of Sciences, lawyers, the public and European organisations. We built an environmental movement that united left and right, young and old, across classes and religious backgrounds, and raised the country to its feet against the occupation of the most fertile land in the country by an Anglo-Australian coloniser, let’s say.

So, it’s ongoing, but we’ve delayed the mine by five or six years so far. Just yesterday, I had a meeting with Greg Barnes, the QC, about similar things going on in Australia around the legal side of it. Right now, we’ve taken the European Commission to court because it declared the mine to be of strategic interest, even though not a shovel has hit the ground and the company doesn’t have a single permit. We’ve exposed a lot of corruption surrounding the mine, both from the government’s standpoint and in Rio Tinto’s planning. We’re responsible for the firing of, I think, three or four company directors because they couldn’t stand the psychological pressure.

But it’s really interesting because the Australian media has barely covered this at all. And I think that’s very intentional. The European media covers it more than the Australian media, even though it’s an Australian company. So that’s what I’ve been doing. [Laughs].

At the beginning of The Forbidden Aunt, you reveal that you were constantly filming your own life, including your first breakup at 14, with what I assume was a camcorder. I feel like you were ahead of your time, in that everyone has a vlog nowadays via social media. What made you want to record so much of your early life from such a young age?

My parents bought me a camera for my 12th birthday, and I’ve taken photos ever since. I’ve got three film cameras and two or three digital cameras now, vintage cameras. It’s just something I’ve always done because I love images and I love storytelling through images, particularly video and film.

I’ve always done it. I used to carry a camera around with me. I used to knit my own camera straps. And I guess a big part of the film’s archives is an extension of that. Who knows? Maybe I was always doing it with the knowledge that it would be in a documentary. I wasn’t, but I just loved filming and looking at life and my family through the lens of a camera.

Considering that you’ve had such a successful acting career so far, I’m wondering how long you’ve aspired to direct and make your own film?

Since I made one of my earlier movies and realised the director didn’t know what they were doing. [Laughs]. I started acting when I was 10 or 12, and I grew up in the theatre. With theatre, I really believe that actors controlled the story, that actors had artistic ownership of the story they were telling. I was doing theatre at school, I was doing community theatre, and I acted at Sydney Theatre Company when I was 12.

So, I understand that actors do hold the artistic scope of a play. But when you get into film, having that same control is impossible. That control comes in the edit room. It’s about what the director wants. Even if you do something that you want, they might not necessarily use it. I think that, over the first five or six years of my acting career, I used to watch myself and be like, “I hate this, and I hate these choices this director has made. And why did they do that? Oh, there was so much better stuff, not just from my performances, but from everyone.”

So, I’ve always wanted to direct and just never did it. Then, at some point over 10 years ago, I realised that if I didn’t do it then, it would never happen.

What camera did you use to shoot this film?

Oh, no one has asked me that yet. [Laughs]. I didn’t think anyone would be interested. I shot it on a Canon 5D Mark II. I chose that particular camera because I had it. I didn’t have a budget to choose cameras, and it fitted a RØDE microphone on top. But while I was with my aunt filming, the camera broke down, so I ended up shooting on a Nikon. Fuck, I’ve forgotten what type of Nikon. [Laughs]. I can’t believe you’re the first person to ask me this. It was one I found at the local camera shop.

And actually, I have to give a huge shout-out to Luke Doolan, who helped me along the way by talking me through everything and helping me make all the decisions around what to do with these cameras and how to use them. I also had a little Panasonic camcorder with me just in case I needed it.

For those who haven’t seen the film, can you describe your relationship with your aunt prior to travelling to Serbia to make this documentary?

This film is called The Forbidden Aunt because she was the most exciting member of the family to me when I was growing up, but I was never really allowed to hang out with her. When I was little, I didn’t know why. Later on, I found out it was because she was an alcoholic, and I guess my parents thought alcoholism was contagious. I don’t know.

She was the bad girl of the family, but I always had this curiosity about her. Whenever I was around her, it was always supervised, but I always had this feeling that she was without judgement, which is true. She let you be who you were, and you could swear around her. [Laughs]. She was this free spirit, this really lively, potty-mouthed, exciting, energetic free spirit. That’s all I really knew.

Before I went to shoot this film, I knew that she’d been sober for a while and that she’d redeemed herself by looking after older people as they died. She’d actually been the primary carer for a bunch of older people, particularly older women, who were dying, and that was her job. She was also looking after her grandchildren when she wasn’t doing that.

Obviously, people are going to take away from this film what they will, but there’s one quote from your aunt that has stayed with me personally, and that’s, “No one fucks your life like you fuck your own life.” It was interesting to me because she says it before she reveals a lot of unexpected truths. Almost like a precursor to how the rest of this documentary was going to unfold. Did you notice this during the edit, or is it something you’ve thought about, or was it just me who noticed the relevance of that quote?

You are 100 percent right about that quote! And I’ll tell you why I know you’re right. The editor wanted to cut it out. She said, “It spells out the whole film.” And I said, “Are you kidding me? It’s absolutely incredible. No one knows what she’s talking about.” And it’s an amazing piece of self-awareness because anybody in her situation could say, “My life was fucked by X, Y and Z.” But really, at the end of the day, that sort of ownership over the way she dealt with her life is so insightful. And I feel like that, in itself, also gives us permission to watch it without feeling like she’s objectified in the film. So that’s why it actually stayed, but also because it’s an absolutely legendary quote.

Did you fire your editor?

No. [Laughs]. She’s amazing. But I did work with four editors. One editor worked with me for five years, and we parted ways. I mean, come on, the documentary took so long to make, but I wouldn’t compromise on it. Even though it’s imperfect, and I know you didn’t ask this, in terms of the editing, I shot the film myself. It was a one-woman crew, and it wouldn’t have happened if it had been anyone other than me. These things wouldn’t have been revealed if there’d been a crew with me, so I know that. But the film is also imperfect in its technicalities because of that. However, the film is about imperfection, and that’s why it works.

You said you wanted to make a movie about your aunt’s turbulent and exciting life, but it obviously becomes so much more than that. How quickly did it become apparent to you that you would have to pivot, and that this wasn’t going to be what you had originally set out to make?

I filmed everything thinking that what was being revealed by my family throughout the shoot was going to be good for them to look back on, so I just kept filming everything. Then I’d delete all of this footage after I’d made a little short film or something. I’m a control freak, so I still would have made my little short film, and it would have been great. [Laughs]. It actually wasn’t until after I’d shot everything and shown the footage to the producer in Serbia, who wasn’t even going to be a producer, that things changed. I was just asking his advice about what to do with the footage. He was the one who had the political awareness of the material because the film is deeply personal. There’s not a P of politics in it, or an F of feminism. It’s just a personal film. But he was the one who said, “This is really, really important for our region.”

Then, during the edit, I realised the significance of such a personal story with such universal implications. So, it wasn’t me. I wasn’t that smart. My political education, and the understanding that the generational trauma in this film is deeply political, came throughout the edit. It didn’t come before. I didn’t structure anything. Even during the edit, I was just focused on structuring a narrative that could be understood because it’s not linear, and that was a challenge. The parallel path of the film and my own personal political education is what has now led to me being able to talk about the film in a political context, in a social context, and in the context of violence against women, both in Serbia and Australia and globally.

It’s also allowed me to understand the significance of the film and its humour as something that opens the door for us to take these issues very seriously and talk about them very seriously through the microcosm of this story.

I completely understand all of this, and I say this with sensitivity, but while you were witnessing all of these family truths, and your aunt’s truths, being revealed, was there ever a voice in the very back of your head telling you that this would make a great film.

Never.

No?

Not at all. I’m not that perverse. It was so personal. I was almost going to turn the camera off. The reason I didn’t turn the camera off is that I realised if I was just sitting there with them, acting as a moderator to their arguments, they wouldn’t talk that way. It was the fact that my aunt asked me to sit in silence. I love that bit when she says, “You just hold that camera and be quiet.” It was the fact that she asked me to sit in silence that made me not participate and not turn the camera off, because I realised there was something about me being behind it that gave them that space.

Afterwards, I sought their permission to use the footage. I mean, she wanted to talk about her story. That was something I noticed all throughout the shoot. She was chasing me around, saying, “I have to do an interview for you and tell you what happened to me.” So, I never thought that for one moment. You also have to remember that I’m a family member, and I was heartbroken, going through my own devastating emotional upheaval. So, I wasn’t thinking about that at all.

It may have been different if it hadn’t been my family. I think I would have had an objectified view of people and looked at things from the perspective of whether they would make a great film. But I didn’t at all during that time, which is surprising because I always have that attitude. Even when I’m on the bus, I’m like, “Oh, this would make a really good scene in a movie.”

What was the process of getting their permission to use the footage like for you?

They gave it. It was really simple.

So they understood everything that was going to be revealed about themselves?

I don’t know that they understood. I don’t know that any of us understood how it would be received. I think, partly, there was definitely a desire from them to share what we had captured. On the other hand, I think they also had a desire to share it with me. I don’t know how they found the courage to share it with the public, because it’s a really amazing thing. When I look at it, it’s like Gisèle Pelicot and her willingness to make her trial public rather than having it behind closed doors. There’s some kind of crazy courage behind that.

I don’t know that any of us still understand what it means to share this with the public, because there’s also some stuff revealed about me that’s a bit embarrassing. Their revelations aren’t embarrassing; they’re so deeply personal. So, I think there’s definitely an element of being detached from the scope of how many people see it, how many people end up talking about it. But I think the very fact that it’s out there, like Maria says near the end, “I just needed to get that out of me,” superseded any sort of importance of what an outsider will think.

Have they seen the film?

Yeah, everyone has seen it. They support it. That’s a really important fact. Everybody supports the film. They have different opinions of it because, obviously, it’s impossible for them to watch it objectively or through an outside lens, but everybody supports the film unequivocally. They want to know what’s happening. They want to know when it’s going to be in Belgrade. It has the support of the people in it.

Have you found throughout your life that people in your company, even people you’ve just met, are comfortable revealing so much about themselves to you? Why were you the person to get such revealing truths out of these people, especially on camera?

Yes.

Talk to me about that.

The first time I realised it was about 10 years ago, when I was auditioning someone for something I was doing, and she ended up telling me her life story. It wasn’t part of the audition. And she said, “Oh my God.” I realised, “Oh yeah, this happens to me with people,” because I’m curious. But also, this is going to sound ironic because, obviously, we’re talking about the film. I am a really good secret keeper. I’m absolutely terrible with my own secrets, and I overshare like a crazy person, but with other people’s secrets, I am absolutely amazing. It’s one of my great, I guess, qualities.

At the same time, I’m curious. I also enjoy knowing people on a deeper level, and that’s an enjoyment in and of itself. There’s no, “I want to get to know you on a deeper level so I can use this information or tell someone or share it with someone else or do something with it.” It’s just a curiosity, I guess, like a little kid. So, I think I’m very trustworthy. That’s one of my really great qualities.

I’m not into astrology at all, but just out of curiosity, what star sign are you?

[Laughs]. I’m a Cancer.

Like I said, I’m not into astrology at all, but you can’t deny that there are some similarities between people with the same star signs.

What star sign are you?

I’m a Pisces. But I’m exactly the same as you, in that people sometimes reveal things to me, and I often wonder what it is about me that makes people speak so openly and freely around me.

You ask specific questions. I definitely ask specific questions. I hate small talk. I’m not into small talk. I just can’t stand small talk. It’s just boring.

How did it feel to play your aunt in the faux soap opera?

Oh my God, it was so easy because we’re so similar.

You look so similar that it’s quite freaky.

It’s so crazy. I was scared that people would think the film was going to be about how she’s my real mum.

That’s exactly what I was thinking going into the film.

To be honest with you, it was really fun because the film is so dark, and we decided to take this risk with the dark humour and just do these reenactments. We had a really good time. It was a week of shoots. We got the entire crew involved to play her ex-boyfriends and whoever else. We also cut a lot. A lot of the things we shot aren’t in the film, but we got the entire crew involved, including the composer and the producer. Everybody had a little part. Everybody kind of came in, and we just had a really great time.

I really enjoyed working with the other actors because there’s a lot of lip-syncing going on. Technically, it was a really interesting thing to have to shoot. Someone recently asked me if it was traumatic. It wasn’t at all. The film itself is doing what it’s doing. We just made sure that we stayed really close to the joy of it because that’s what those soap opera reenactments are about.

There’s genuinely another version of this film to be made here, and that’s a version from your perspective. I can only imagine the toll it took on you. How are you feeling on an emotional level as you set out to release this film publicly?

Wow, thank you. [Pause]. That question has made me cry. It’s overwhelming. It’s such a good question. Just give me a second. [Pause]. I’ll give you a physical illustration of what my mental state is like. I was asked to present the film and say a couple of words about it, and I’ll do the same in Adelaide.

]I said, “There’s nothing about this film that I want to say that isn’t in the film itself because I don’t want to give anything away.”

But instead, what I did was read a quote from Joseph Campbell that kept me going through the edit, and it’s about imperfection. When I took my phone out to read it, my hand was shaking so much that, number one, I had to tell people, “My hand’s shaking so much, I can’t actually read this.” I had to give my phone to someone else to read.

And it’s not nerves. It’s actually just such an emotional, overwhelming experience because we’ve created something that connects us within the family, and then it also connects that family with a broader audience.

What happened was that, after the film, we had a five-minute standing ovation, which is, of course, very nice for my ego. But at the same time, that wasn’t the important part of the premiere. What happened afterwards was that I couldn’t leave the theatre because so many people swarmed towards me, wanting to talk about their own families and their own experiences.

I think your question brings that up for me. There’s an emotional connection that’s formed, a collective trauma that’s released, experienced and then shared. That carries with it a lot of responsibility, but at the same time, the cinema is a safe space to share that during and after the film. I think that’s the emotional weight it’s carrying. It’s an interesting bodily experience, watching it and talking about it, and releasing it. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Forbidden Aunt will screen at the Adelaide Film Festival on Sunday, 18 October. Details here.

If you enjoy Cinema Australia as much as I loved publishing it, please consider supporting Cinema Australia’scommitment to the Australian screen industry via a donation below.

I strive to shine a light on Australian movies, giving voice to emerging talent and established artists.

This important work is made possible through the support of Cinema Australia readers.

Without corporate interests or paywalls, Cinema Australia is committed to remaining free to read, watch and listen to, always.

If you can, please consider making a contribution. It takes less than a minute, and your support will make a significant impact in sustaining Cinema Australia as the much-loved publication that it is.

Thank you.

Matthew Eeles
Founder and Editor.

Make a donation here.