If you’ve ever wanted to test the limits of human patience, try filming a promotional video in Dubrovnik for a month.

My friend, a cameraman with an admirable tolerance for both heat and my creative directions, and I have spent the past few weeks scuttling around every corner of this limestone labyrinth. From sunrise on Mount Srđ to late-night shots in Gruž, we’ve covered more ground than a Game of Thrones location scout on double overtime.

And here’s the thing: Dubrovnik doesn’t make it difficult.

The city is almost offensively photogenic. I’ve long said you could lob a camera in the air, let it spin a few times, and wherever it lands, you’d still get a postcard shot.

The cobbled streets, the Adriatic glinting like it’s auditioning for a jewellery advert, the baroque façades that practically scream “Zoom in on me!” — all of it is ready-made cinema.

Our daily routine became something of a surreal dance. “Shall we shoot by the Rector’s Palace today?” I’d ask, as though there were any risk of it not looking good on film.

Dubrovnik doesn’t need filters, touch-ups or digital wizardry. It’s the kind of place that makes a director feel smugly talented just by showing up with a tripod. It’s easy to see why international production companies keep landing here like seagulls on a fishing boat.

The city’s Old City is essentially a ready-made medieval set that doesn’t demand a CGI budget. You want a dramatic city wall? Done. A brooding fortress? We’ve got three. A picturesque harbour where extras can look wistfully out to sea? Pick your side of the bay.

Hollywood figured this out years ago, of course.

The cameras arrived, the cash flowed, and suddenly Dubrovnik was starring in blockbuster after blockbuster. You could hardly walk down Stradun without bumping into an assistant director whispering into a walkie-talkie.

And yes, the global exposure did wonders for the city’s fame, even if it did mean locals had to politely explain for the hundredth time that King’s Landing is, in fact, called Dubrovnik and has been here for centuries.

Could the city attract even more productions?

Absolutely.

The ingredients are there: jaw-dropping visuals, reliable sunshine, and an airport that can just about cope with the influx of cast, crew, and catering vans. Add to that the sheer convenience of being able to film a medieval siege in the morning and a champagne-soaked Adriatic cruise in the afternoon, and it’s a wonder more directors haven’t camped out permanently.

At some point, somebody floated the idea of setting up a dedicated film office in Dubrovnik.

The logic seems sound: a one-stop shop where producers can navigate permits, location fees, and how not to enrage the local population by closing the Pile Gate during rush hour.

Would it actually help? Possibly.

At the very least, it might save film crews from the Kafkaesque delight of Croatian paperwork.

But here’s the rub: film offices tend to be judged not on their logistical genius but on whether the city still looks good when the cameras roll. And Dubrovnik, bless it, is in no danger there. Even on a bad hair day (and August humidity provides plenty of those), the place still glows like it’s been lovingly lit by a Hollywood gaffer.

Over the course of the past month, my cameraman friend and I have become experts in Dubrovnik angles. We’ve shot the Old City from above, below, sideways, and upside down. We’ve captured boats gliding into the harbour, cats lounging imperiously on marble steps, and waiters who’ve perfected the art of balancing three cappuccinos while dodging a tourist with a selfie stick.

Some days we’d spend hours waiting for the perfect light, only to realise that in Dubrovnik, the light is always perfect. The Adriatic bounces sunshine like a reflector board, and even the shadows seem art-directed.

By the time we wrapped filming earlier this week, I’d started to suspect the city might actually be in on the act, deliberately rearranging itself to look more cinematic just as we hit “record.” Of course, the real secret of filming in Dubrovnik is that it doesn’t actually need us.

Yes, the promotional video will be polished, edited, and sprinkled with suitably uplifting music.

But the essence of Dubrovnik — the way the sea shimmers against the stone, the hum of conversation on Stradun, the timeless silhouette of the walls at dusk — that’s all there already, waiting for anyone with eyes.

The truth is, we’re just curators.

We point the camera, press the button, and hope we don’t trip over a stray pigeon. The city does the rest. It’s a humbling reminder that sometimes, the best promotional campaign is simply letting reality speak for itself. But what have I learned? That Dubrovnik is both a joy and a tease.

A joy, because it gives itself up so generously to the camera.

A tease, because no matter how many shots you take, you’re always convinced there’s a better one around the corner.

Read more Englishman in Dubrovnik…well, if you really want to

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About the author

Mark Thomas (aka Englez u Dubrovniku) is the editor of The Dubrovnik Times. He was born and educated in the UK and moved to live in Dubrovnik in 1998. He works across a whole range of media, from a daily radio show to TV and in print. Thomas is fluent in Croatian and this column is available in Croatia on the website – Dubrovnik Vjesnik