Written by: Gea Vlahović
Photos: Nesh
…
From the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade, through years of wandering across Europe, to the Lee Strasberg Institute in New York – the acting journey of Željko Dimić (59), better known in the American film industry as Jack Dimich, unfolds more like a film script than a traditional biography. Born and raised in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Dimić has spent decades building his career in the United States, where he has worked with some of the biggest names in the film industry, from Steven Spielberg to Al Pacino. We’ve seen him in hit series like Hawaii Five-0 and The Blacklist, and now he’s returning to this part of the world – solo, on stage.
With his monodrama Oj, živote (Oh, Life), he’s setting off on tour, with a performance scheduled in Croatia this June. His take on Josip Pejaković’s cult classic delivers a universal story of sacrifice, morality, and the fate of the common man – leaving the personal stamp of an actor who journeyed from an anonymous immigrant to a recognised name in American film and television.
In this interview, he shares how he found his footing in the cutthroat world of the American entertainment industry, what returning to the region means to him, and why performing in English now feels more natural than in his mother tongue.
Your arrival in the United States marked something of a turning point – a moment when you chose to embark on an uncertain, yet artistically rich path. At the time, did you feel fear or excitement? To what extent was that decision guided by intuition, and how much by conscious choice? And could you, even then, sense the direction your career might take?
When I was rejected for the final time at the entrance exam to the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade, in May 1992, I finally decided to seek my place in the sun elsewhere. The war had already taken hold in our region, which further influenced my decision to leave the Balkan Peninsula.
I couldn’t go straight to the United States, so I tried to get by in Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Sweden, taking on whatever work I could find. Of course, I had no idea what lay ahead when I left, but over time I came to realise it had been the right decision – any uncertainty is better than a certainty we don’t want. Sadly, throughout history, people from our region have been leaving time and again, simply because what we long for is so often out of reach at home.
Do you feel a sense of nostalgia, or have you learned, over time, to live “between cultures”? Nostalgia for one’s homeland often takes on complex forms – how do you balance the feeling of belonging with the reality of a life built far from your roots?
Nostalgia – or a kind of longing – is always there for what you leave behind: your hometown, the people, childhood, youth, the landscape. I have a deep love for my Dubica, where I was born, and for both Dubicas where I grew up – Bosnian, Kozarska Dubica, and Croatian, Hrvatska Dubica, with the beautiful river Una flowing between them.
My upbringing helped me immensely in embracing and becoming part of multicultural environments wherever I’ve lived since leaving home – because both of my Dubicas were just like that. My wonderful father, Vlatko, used to say to me: “Learn how others live – their culture, traditions, and customs – because you already know your own. Only then can you be truly accepted wherever you live on this beautiful planet.”
That’s probably one of the reasons why I’ve rarely faced unpleasant situations – because I’ve never had trouble understanding and accepting that there are people who are different from me. New York, where I live, has also played a big role in that – a fascinating city of eight million people, home to more than 200 nationalities and ethnic groups, where over 180 languages are spoken. But above all, I’m grateful to my parents, and then to my teachers, mentors, professors, and to the many people I’ve learned from – and continue to learn from – to this day.
And on the rare occasion that I come across someone who takes issue with my background, the languages I speak, or the culture I belong to, I simply ignore them and leave them to their own narrow-mindedness and ignorance. Or, as our great Ivo Brešan put it in Hamlet in Mrduša Donja: “You have to live in peaceful coexistence with stupidity“.
You often portray layered, psychologically demanding characters who carry an inner struggle. Is there a specific acting process you go through when taking on such roles? Would you say you choose the roles, or do the roles choose you?
The process of working on each character is extremely complex and demanding—but I selfishly keep it to myself. That’s how I was taught at the Lee Strasberg Institute in New York, where I graduated in acting in 2001 under Professor Michael Margotta. I do choose my roles, but in a way, they also choose me. I accept them only if I genuinely want to do them, and if they’re not compromising in any way.
Every role I choose has to be approached with love, no matter what kind of character I’m playing, because that’s one of the key elements in truly believing in what we’re creating. And if we believe in ourselves, the audience will believe in us too—as we step into someone else’s shoes.
You’ve worked with many prominent directors and actors who have helped shape the contemporary film narrative. What’s the most valuable lesson you’ve taken from those collaborations? Has any particular collaboration left a lasting influence on your work?
I’ve had the opportunity to work with many masters of the craft: Robert Singer, Steven Spielberg, Ben Ketai, Richard Loncraine, Michaël R. Roskam, Tim Garrick, Christopher Kubland, Goran Marković, Dejan Zečević, and many others. I’ve learned a great deal from them, and I always enjoy working with directors I trust—because, along with the screenwriter, the director knows the project best. My task is to serve the character I’m portraying, and that character, in turn, serves the film, series, or play to which it belongs.
I’ve been fortunate to work with some outstanding colleagues, including Tom Hardy, Jeff Goldblum, Al Pacino, Kevin Dillon, Alec Baldwin, Selena Gomez, Elisabeth Shue, James Gandolfini, Donnie Wahlberg, Téa Leoni, Morgan Freeman, Lucy Liu, Steven Van Zandt, Martin Freeman, Petar Zekavica, Tihomir Stanić, James Spader, Stana Katić, Selma Alispahić, Senad Bašić…
There’s a lot to be learned on set, especially from your fellow actors—each of them brings something unique that I might not have. And because interaction is such a vital part of our craft, every actor can draw exactly what they need in that moment for the character they’re portraying.
The Hollywood production system and the European theatre and film tradition are often seen as two contrasting visions of what it means to be an actor. Is there space in Hollywood for that “inner fire” we so often associate with European performers? As someone who has experienced both worlds, where do you, as an artist, truly feel at home?
My “Technique 2” professor at the Lee Strasberg Academy always insisted that acting is a universal craft—it shouldn’t have barriers, limitations, or prejudices. It’s true that approaches vary between America, Europe, and other parts of the world, but that doesn’t mean the geographical origin of a project or a role automatically defines its quality.
That’s why I try to embrace any knowledge that can serve my craft, no matter where it comes from or where I happen to be working. The passion for this beautiful profession is something deeply personal for every actor—regardless of where they were born or where they trained..
In her autobiographical book, Mira Furlan portrays the American film industry as a deeply hostile environment—harshly dismissive, nationalistic, exclusive, extremely competitive, and inhumane. Is it really like that?
I had the honour and privilege of working with Mira on Goran Marković’s film The Tour, and of meeting her a few times in Los Angeles. I don’t feel I have the right to comment on her views of the American film industry—her thoughts were her own, and they reflected her personal perspective on the world. The only thing I can say with certainty is that Mira Furlan’s passing is a tremendous loss for our cinema.
You’ll soon be performing at the Croatian National Theatre in Zagreb with the monodrama Oj, živote (Oh, Life) by Josip Pejaković—a story of an artist constantly tripped up by life, written in a very different socio-political context, in a country that no longer exists. As an actor whose own biography is intertwined to that former state, how did you approach the text today? Is its message still universal, or has it taken on a new dimension?
Oj, živote (Oh, Life) is a brilliant piece that tells the story of an ordinary man from a rural background, someone willing to make a sacrifice—so much so that he served a prison sentence in place of his brother for a crime he didn’t commit. The themes of the monodrama are universal and could be set in any place or time, as they speak to human nature and everything a person experiences and endures when they choose to sacrifice themselves for someone else.
I simply adapted this brilliant text and brought it to the stage in the present day, performing it in a way that feels most natural to me as an actor.
A monodrama is a format that demands exceptional focus, emotional endurance, and the ability to establish a subtle dialogue with the audience. What does your preparation process look like, and do you feel a greater sense of responsibility when you’re completely alone on stage?
Monodrama is the most demanding forms of acting, as the actor is completely alone on stage. Keeping the audience’s attention for over an hour is an incredibly challenging task and comes with a great deal of risk—there’s always the possibility that the audience won’t respond to the performance. I was fortunate to be given an excellent script by the esteemed Josip Pejaković, which greatly helps in keeping the audience engaged. Of course, I’ve adapted it in my own way, and so far, I’ve had wonderful experiences with audiences wherever I’ve performed the piece.
You moved to the United States three decades ago; it wasn’t easy even then, but it seems that today, for those seeking a new life there, the road has become even more difficult. America no longer speaks the way it once did. In that sense, how has life as an actor changed over the past 30 years?
It’s not easy being an actor anywhere—whether in the United States or back home—unless you have the privilege of someone backing you and giving you a push forward. It’s true that it’s hardest in America, simply because the competition is the toughest. Actors from all over the world come here in search of roles and their place in the spotlight. As for me, whether for better or worse, I’ve had to do everything on my own.
On top of that, the biggest barrier is the language—and the accent, whether subtle or strong, that everyone brings with them when speaking English, no matter where they come from. I had one too, and I worked on it for 12 full years, repeating words hundreds—even thousands—of times a day, depending on the word I was training. It wasn’t until 2012 that I finally landed my first role as a native-born American—Randy Thorpe from New Jersey—in the CBS series Hawaii Five-0.
From that moment on, I was no longer labelled as an actor who could only play foreigners in America. And I’m not the only one—Goran Višnjić achieved the same, and in my opinion, he’s the most successful actor from our region to make it in the U.S.
Acting in a foreign language often brings with it a different kind of physical expression, intonation, and even emotion. Do you feel that your approach to interpreting characters changes when you perform in English compared to your native language?
I know it might sound strange, but these days, it’s actually easier for me to work in English than in my native language. That’s the result of years of consistent work on my pronunciation, constant reading in English, and the dedication I’ve brought to each of the hundreds of auditions I’ve done in the U.S. Fortunately, in recent years I’ve been working and spending more time in the countries of the former Yugoslavia, so I regularly use the languages and dialects spoken there.
That’s why I’m especially excited to be performing in Croatia soon—with my appearance at the Croatian National Theatre on June 15.
You’ve played around 90 roles across film, television, and theatre. After all these years in the industry, is there still anything that can truly surprise you in the world of acting? Is there a particular type of role or directorial approach you’d love to explore but haven’t had the chance to yet?
Of course there is—an actor lives and creates for as long as there are challenges and a sense of excitement for each new role. The worst thing that can happen in our profession is to lose the passion for what we do and stop looking forward to new parts. Or, as my movement teacher Irma Sandrey used to say: “The moment we stop—we’re done, we no longer exist.”
Looking back, is there anything you would change about your professional journey? Do you see challenges as necessary catalysts for artistic growth? Do you believe they were essential in shaping the actor you are today?
You’ve already said it yourself—challenges are the catalysts for everything that happens to us. When they’re no longer there, we lose the joy not only in our work, but in life itself. That’s the essence of it all: without challenges, the desire to play fades, and so does the passion for the work we do.
Was there a specific moment in your career when you felt you had arrived—reached the place you’d been striving for? Is success something that’s experienced in individual moments, or is it a continuous process of seeking out the next challenge?
I often say—in interviews and to the people around me—that success isn’t a final destination in our lives. For me, success lasts as long as a person is able to create and doesn’t stop creating. The only real failure in this one life we have is to stop and give up on creating—especially in our line of work.
Which upcoming project are you most looking forward to?
I look forward to every day I wake up alive and well. I look forward to every good person I meet. To every place I haven’t yet been. Every book I haven’t yet read. Every role I haven’t yet played. I look forward to life—for as long as I exist.
Translation by: Tea Alfirov Kožul
