Through a fictional psychotherapeutic session with the late Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha, State of Preparedness explores the psychological and physical legacy of Albania’s militarized past. Drawing on oral history, interviews, and field research, the film reflects on the country’s vast network of military bunkers as both architectural remnants and metaphors for collective fear, repression, and unresolved trauma. The narrative blends archival memory with present-day imagery, inviting the viewer to confront the thin line between visible structures and invisible wounds.
Developed during a residency in Tirana and initially presented at the Tirana Architecture Triennale, the film meditates on the interplay between the conscious and the unconscious, the seen and the unseen — inspired by Freud’s iceberg theory and grounded in lived experience.
Rebeka Bratož Gornik is a Slovenian freelance filmmaker and media artist specializing in documentary and experimental films that explore the relationship between architecture, space, and society. With a background in media studies and a Master’s degree in Communication and Media from the University of Ljubljana, Rebeka merges visual storytelling with spatial research to reveal layered social narratives. She has been recognized as a LINA Fellow and has presented her work internationally at film and architecture festivals.
When I started this project, I wanted to find the connection between the visible layers—the bunkers scattered across Albania’s landscape—and the deeper, often unspoken trauma that they represent. This search reminded me of Freud’s iceberg metaphor: what we see is only a small part of a much larger, hidden reality beneath the surface.
To avoid simply showing the bunkers as physical objects, I chose to create the film as a kind of psychotherapeutic session—inviting the viewer to dive into this complex, layered topic that remains largely unacknowledged. Albania has more than 170,000 bunkers, a staggering number born from Enver Hoxha’s fear of war and invasion. But beyond history, the film raises questions about the political and military threats we face today—threats that still feel close and very present.
For me, this film is a way to explore how fear shapes not only landscapes but also collective memory and identity. It’s an invitation to look deeper, to reflect on what lies beneath the surface, and to confront those hidden fears that continue to influence us.
