Mileva “Gara” Jovanović, a dedicated shepherdess in the mountains of Sinjajevina, recently found herself balancing global festival circuits with the daily, demanding realities of her pastoral life. Her goats, known for their constant quest for new paths, remain central to her existence, though they occasionally challenge her coordination. The life of a shepherdess, Gara explains, requires constant vigilance, yet the animals remain responsive because of their deep familiarity with her. So my interview with Mileva “Gara” Jovanović is rescheduled to a moment where the animals are under control and Gara can descend from the peaks to her small winter residence in a small village near the capital of Podgorica, for a video call. Perhaps – and Tutorov knew they would become friends, there was some unfathomable meaning in it – the fierce protection of a shepherdess defending her flock. Too. “We don’t want to work in a private store for €300 a month,” Gara tells her fellow herders as they fight for th, we realise that Gara endures this life so devoid of contemporary comforts because it gives her freedom. God gave us everything but often we just don’t know how to use it.”. The officer’s arguments appear even more ridiculous because he is the only person in the room wearing a Covid face mask.
Gara’s journey from a mountain guardian to the subject of the acclaimed documentary To Hold a Mountain began when she stood up against government efforts to transform the Sinjajevina highlands into a Nato military training and weapons testing ground. According to at one point, Gara, She can smell herbs when cows return from the highest pastures and burp.
Petar Glomazić and Biljana Tutorov, the film’s co-creators, first encountered Gara during a protest where she took the stage to challenge the military’s encroachment. Glomazić recalls that while local men remained hesitant to confront the authorities, Gara took a bold stand, seized the megaphone, and delivered a powerful, decisive speech.
The documentary project spanned eight years, capturing the essence of the ancient transhumance culture in Montenegro, where livestock are moved to high peaks for the summer before returning to the lowlands for winter. Tutorov notes that the expansive Sinjajevina landscape provided the perfect, dramatic stage for this narrative. Beyond the political struggle, the film highlights the intense intimacy of Gara’s life, including her bond with her daughter, Nada, who is now a 20-year-old biology student aspiring to be a microbiologist. Tutorov fell in love with the vivid light of Sinjajevina (“It felt like a big stage for a big story,” she says) and was also moved by the way she saw Gara embracing Nada, her 12-year-old daughter. No part of her livestock is wasted: skins of sheep are used as vessels for cheese-making; manure is gathered and sold to gardeners. And worked in a factory but found she couldn’t support her children on her salary and felt oppressed by her managers. “I decided that nobody’s going to be my boss, she moved to the city.
Filming required the crew to immerse themselves in the physically grueling, off-grid reality of the highlands. Gara’s cabin, which lacks modern conveniences like running water or electricity, serves as a backdrop for a life defined by freedom rather than comfort. She often rejects the prospect of low-wage urban labor in favor of the autonomy the mountain provides, stating, “Freedom does not have a price.” Her spiritual connection to the land is so profound that she considers the mountain a living entity, one she is willing to defend with her life. Her small summer cabin is off-grid: water must be hauled from a well; washing is by bucket; food is cooked on a wood-fired stove. Even if I didn’t extract my livelihood from the mountain, I would still defend it.
Patient observational techniques allowed the filmmakers to capture intimate details, such as Gara’s uncanny ability to identify what her cows have been grazing on simply by the scent of their burps. These nuances reflect a connection to the environment that has been nurtured over generations. Conversely, the film contrasts these natural cycles with the clinical, claustrophobic atmosphere of government offices where Gara had to confront military officials, whose arguments ultimately appeared ineffective against her conviction. They all wanted to make a film that would help the pastoralists resist the military takeover of their mountain. The film captures this attachment with such visceral power that we the audience feel a shocking sense of loss when the scene suddenly shifts to a claustrophobic office corridor beside a TV studio where Gara must confront military officers about their plans.
The project’s conclusion was unexpectedly shaped by real-world events. In the summer of 2025, the Montenegrin government abruptly abandoned its plans for the military training area. This victory fundamentally altered the film’s trajectory; the creators chose to reopen the edit and forgo earlier premiere plans, turning the documentary’s festival run into a celebration of the community’s triumph. Gara has since traveled to cities including London, Sarajevo, and Zurich to share her story. The festival circuit has been a victory lap for Gara, who has travelled to Sundance, Switzerland, Sarajevo, London and Copenhagen for screenings and interviews. “It’s unfo, instead of being a film tour to fight the plans.
Nada, who shares her mother’s reverence for the landscape, views the mountain as a non-judgmental confidant that supports her through difficult times. While she pursues her scientific studies, she remains open to a life dedicated to the land if fate directs her there. This generational bridge reflects the film’s broader themes of resilience and the preservation of a threatened, traditional way of life that many European rural areas are losing to economic pressure.
Gara remains proud of the example she set for future generations, emphasizing the necessity for mothers and women to find the strength to protect their children and their heritage. She views the mountain as her castle, a place where she remains sovereign and free. Through the process of documenting this struggle, the filmmakers discovered a mythological depth to the story, framing it as a universal battle rather than a singular, isolated event. Low cloud, violent storms and early snows sweep through as the shepherds keep their sheep safe from wolves, and rescue errant cows on vast hillsides. Sheep, pony and sheepdog as an individual, and usually by name, gara knows each cow. If someone challenged me to choose between my life and saving this mountain for future generations, I wouldn’t have any doubt: I would give my life and say, ‘Let the mountain stand.’”. We see Nada growing up, on the brink of womanhood and caught between two worlds – painting her nails, singing along to pop songs, heading down the mountain for school and sometimes still sharing a bed with her mum in their tiny cabin, alongside a life whose basics have barely changed in centuries.
The success of the film has been profound, with Gara noting the beauty and joy of meeting people across the world during the tour. The collaboration fostered a deep bond, with the crew becoming an extended family to the herders. As the documentary continues to find its audience, it serves as an elegy for a disappearing culture while highlighting the enduring, unyielding power of those who choose to live in harmony with nature. Gara recognised that the film-makers possessed “the power to actually move this mountain and to walk it around the world”. It was much nicer to grow up in nature, for the kids also.
