A Film a Week - Fragments of Belonging / Tragovi pripadanja

 previously published on Cineuropa

Ideally, belonging is a two-way agreement defined by two parties – the individual and the collective – in good faith and on the basis of free will. In practice, however, belonging is a one-way street in which the individual submits entirely to the collective. The trouble is that, since childhood, we have been taught that we need to belong to a nation, religion, political system or language group, and to take pride in belonging to one group or another.

But what if we move around, even wander for a while, only to realise that we still want to belong somewhere, but on terms we can negotiate and only to a certain extent, so that we do not have to surrender completely? That is one of the key questions posed by Tatjana Božić’s documentary Fragments of Belonging, which has just premiered in the regional competition at ZagrebDox, and it serves as the film’s starting point.

As the filmmaker states in her own narration, she spent much of her life on the move, relocating roughly every ten years. She lived with her grandparents in Bosnia, with her parents in Croatia, moved with them to the Soviet Union, then went alone to London, returned to Zagreb in the newly independent Croatia, and eventually settled in Amsterdam, where she married, gave birth to her son Waldemar, separated from her partner and remained to care for him. She wants and needs to belong, but does not know how: her manner is too quirky and direct for otherwise restrained Dutch etiquette, yet too artsy and refined for the usually working-class circles of the former Yugoslavia. She therefore visits a number of relatives and friends who moved abroad, successfully integrated or failed to integrate into their new environments, and either stayed there or returned, in order to examine their experiences and reach her own conclusions about belonging.

In that process, however, Božić also touches on other important issues surrounding immigration and integration, such as the different labels one may be assigned according to perceived “desirability”. For instance, a single woman with a good job is an expat; a friend’s foreign wife is charmingly exotic; but a single mother doing odd jobs to survive is simply an immigrant, and potentially a problem or a burden to society. Ultimately, what if she does not truly want to belong somewhere, but simply feels pressured to do so?

Fragments of Belonging is certainly a deeply personal and emotionally charged documentary that touches on a number of topics and issues in the modern world. As such, it will ring painfully true for those who have uprooted their lives and moved to environments that cannot fully understand them and are not always welcoming. Yet even viewers who have not experienced such circumstances should have no trouble relating to the film and the emotional landscape it paints.

Truth be told, it is quite a “talky”, energetic, slightly hyperactive and even unfocused piece of work, in which its author and narrator jumps from one topic to another in seemingly no order at all, yet it remains faithful to the personality – or at least the screen persona – of Božić. The line between the filmmaker and the film character is considerably blurred, and this ultimately works in the film’s favour. The blending of newly shot footage (by cinematographers Sven Jacobs and Ton Peters) with material from the personal archive is dynamic, yet smoothly handled in the editing by Jacobs, Božić, Vanja Kovačević and Frank Müller. In the end, Fragments of Belonging is at times a little chaotic, but remains a documentary that leaves a lasting impression and raises important questions.

Kenny Daglish

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Sa slonova na fudbal i sa starih majstora na one nešto mlađe. Zapravo, Asif Kapadia skoro da bi mogao da bude Hercogov legitimni naslednik, samo kada bi mu igrani filmovi koje forsira bili jednako kvalitetni kao dokumentarci. Kapadia je specijalista za one biografske, o sportskim i muzičkim zvezdama koje su obeležile jedno vreme. Autor je to koji nam je ispričao priče o Airtonu Seni (Senna, 2010), Ejmi Vajnhaus (Amy, 2015), Maradoni (2019) i Federeru (2024), a njegov najnoviji dokumentarac svetlo baca na jednu od većih legendi britanskog fudbala, Kenija Dagliša.

Kao igrač, Dagliš je nastupao za Seltik, Liverpul i škotsku reprezentaciju, da bi kasnije kao trener vodio Liverpul, Blekburn, Njukasl, Seltik i opet Liverpul. Kao igrač, bio je jedan od prvih isturenih plejmejkera i „lažnih devetki“, igru je čitao vrhunski, a prelaskom u trenere ostao je zabeležen kao jedan od poznatijih igrača-menadžera. U svakom klubu je imao status legende, zasluženo i zbog svog skromnog i ljudskošću ispunjenog stava. U Glazgovu je uspeo da „pomiri“ protestante i katolike, a u Liverpulu je bio jedan od „tribuna“ grada i kluba koje je oba pritiskala administacija Margaret Tačer.

Dagliš je bio neposredni svedok dve velike tragedije, možda i najveće koje su potresle engleski fudbal, a svakako najveće koje su uključivale fudbalski klub Liverpul. Na Hejselu 1985. godine bio je igrač u finalu Kupa Šampiona kada je izbila tuča između Liverpulovih i navijača Juventusa pa se tribina loše održavanog stadiona urušila. Na stadionu Hilsboro u Šefildu 1989. godine, gde je Liverpul igrao polufinale kupa s Notingem Forestom, Dagliš je bio trener. Redari i policija su pustili previše ljudi na stajaće tribine, nastala je gužva i panika, a ograde prema terenu su bile zaključane, a u gužvi je stradalo preko 90 ljudi, većinom navijača Liverpula. Tada se Dagliš postavio nasuprot vlastima i tabloidima voljnim da sve svale na fantomske „huligane“.

Kenny Daglish, dakle, nije tek običan sportski dokumentarac, već pre svega dokumentarac o jednom vremenu i društvu dok je fudbal nešto značio u sportsom i socijalnom smislu, a ne samo kao biznis. U pitanju je, dakle, dokumentarac o Velikoj Britaniji i njenom društvu u godinama stalne klasne napetosti gde je sport često bio jedini „ventil“ za mase. Pritom, Dagliš nije najzahvalniji protagonista jer nema onu nametljivu auru velike zvezde kao što je to imao Džordž Best ili Kevin Kigen, već je, nasuprot tome, skroman čovek koji ističe prednosti timskog rada, drugarstva, poštenja i truda. Međutim, Kapadia tome doskače na jednostavan i ingeniozan način da Dagliša i njegove savremenike pušta da govore iz „off-a“, dok se u rapidnoj montaži smenjuju izuzetno atraktivni arhivski snimci. Konačni rezultat je sasvim blizu trijumfa, i to ne samo za ljubitelje fudbala i sportskih legendi.

Ghost Elephants

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Navodno najveći slon, i samim time kopneni sisar, ikada ulovljen je u Angoli na visoravni koja važi za „vodotoranj Afrike“ odakle izviru i reke Kongo i Zambezi koje teku ka različitim okeanima. Primerak je izložen u muzeju Smitsonijan u Vašingtonu i nosi „ljudsko“ ime, odnosno nadimak Henri. Razlike u veličini između njega i drugih afričkih slonova, bilo živih, bilo ulovljenih, očita je na svim planovima, od prečnika traga, do visine u grebenu i težine. Henri je bio pravi div među slonovima, samo koža mu je težila dve tone, a njegov preparirani i izloženi model statički ne može da nosi njegovu lobanju i kljove.

Slon Henri je izvor fascinacije i inspiracije za biologa Stiva Bojsa koji je postavio hrabru teoriju da je najveći slon ikada svakako ostavio potomstvo i da se tu možda radi o jednoj posebnoj pod-vrsti afričkih slonova. Naime, slonovi ne žive na uzvisinama, još ređe u vlažnim šumama i na tresetnim poljima. U pokušaju dokazivanja teorije na putu od Namibije do narečene uglavnom nenastanjene i teško dostupne visoravni u Angoli, Stiva, njegove pomoćnike i njihove bušmanske tragače, poslednje „majstore svog zanata“, prati i Verner Hercog, jedna od najvećih vedeta dokumentarnog i filma uopšte. Cilj cele ekspedicije je pronaći dovoljno veliki primerak i fotografski i na videu zabeležiti njegovo postojanje.

Film Ghost Elephants je premijeru imao u Veneciji, ali je nastao u produkciji televizijskog kanala National Geographic. Tragovi ovog potonjeg očiti su i na vizuelnom planu i na planu tona, kako doslovno, s grandioznom „afričkom“ muzikom, tako i onog pripovednog. Ne radi se tu, dakle, samo o slonovima, već i o ljudima i o planeti kao našem zajedničkom domu. Na početku Hercog svakako igra tu igru i čini se da je iskren u tome: zaista je zadivljen veličanstvenim slonovima, ali i ljudima koji žive jednostavno, u skladu se prirodom, ali koji razumiju i moderan svet pun tehnologije, pa se čini kao da je na misiji da razbije jedan kolonijalni kliše.

Ono što, međutim, u prvoj polovini filma nedostaje je potpisna ironija s dozom pesimizma u naracijama koje Hercog sam piše, čita i snima, ali i to ćemo na kraju dobiti, jednom kada se autor opusti. Ali, opet, daleko je to od Hercogovog najboljeg izdanja, pa možemo sa sigurnošću pretpostaviti da „tezgari“ umesto da ode u penziju. Ali majstor ostaje majstor čak i kad tezgari, a slonovi i afrički pejzaži su sami po sebi dovoljno veličanstveni za relaksirano gledanje.

Paul

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Radio dokumentarce ili igrane, kratke ili dugometražne filmove, frankofoni kanadski autor Deni Kote ne odustaje od određenih principa i postulata. Njegovi filmovi deluju čudno, spori su, opservantni i puni neke neprijatne i nesigurne atmosfere, a likovi (ili subjekti) mu služe kao centar gravitacije oko kojeg se ta neprijatna atmosfera kovitla. Koteov najsvežiji dokumentarac Paul prikazan je u sekciji Kontroverzni Dox u Zagrebu.

Naslovni junak Pol deluje kao ublaženija dokumentarna varijanta debelog Čarlija (Brendan Frejzer) iz filma The Whale (Daren Aronofski, 2022). Proveo je nekoliko godina u „zagrljaju“ depresije, nije izlazio iz svoje kuće ili sobe, nagojio se i zapustio. Jednog dana je rešio da promeni i počisti svoj život i u tom procesu je shvatio i šta mu treba i šta ga „pali“ – da čisti kuće za dominantne žene i da to snima za svoj video-kanal putem kojeg komunicira sa svetom. Finansijski aranžmani takvog „posla“ nisu nigde istaknuti, a nisu ni bitni jer Pol od takve i sličnih saradnji (recimo, snima jednu svoju koleginicu koja „prodaje“ fetiš na prljanje hranom) može da živi. I čini se da je sve srećniji, sve aktivniji i sve precizniji u formulaciji šta želi, a šta ne.

Lako je, makar s te neke generacijske distance, pokazati manjak razumevanja i višak spremnosti da se osudi inherentni egzibicionizam mlađih generacija odraslih s internetom i na internetu. Kote, međutim, to ne čini, već samo pušta svog protagonistu da se izrazi kako i koliko on sam želi, dodajući nekakav umetnički „premaz“ i pečat na ono što Pol sam radi i pritom mu pomažući da se izrazi. Film Paul, doduše, deluje suviše distancirano i s jedva primetnim lukom u razvoju subjekta kao filmskog lika, što je za Kotea tipično, ali svejedno deluje krajnje iskreno.

A Film a Week - Does the Horse Have to Work, Too? / Muss das Pferd auch arbeiten?

 previously published on Cineuropa

The modern world and contemporary lifestyle tend to offer satisfaction through comfort, rather than through the sense of accomplishment that comes from working hard to achieve something. They also tend to overwhelm us with information at a rapid pace and burden us with making decision after decision based on it. That may be one reason why some people choose alternative, simpler, old-fashioned ways of life. A personal desire, and the need for detachment from modern living, is perhaps the only way to explain the choice made by Valeria, the protagonist of Leonhard Pill’s documentary Does the Horse Have to Work, Too?, which has world-premiered in the Regional Competition of ZagrebDox.

Valeria left her previous life to work as a shepherdess somewhere in the Austrian mountains. She lives in a metal container in the middle of nowhere and tends to the every need of every “member” of her flock – taking them to pasture, keeping them safe, helping the females give birth, separating mothers and newborn lambs in the enclosure, treating injuries and trimming hooves. When the time comes, she also takes them to the slaughterhouse, skins them and disposes of the remains. In her free time, she practises crafts and listens to extreme metal, either to set the rhythm of her work or to “wash out” the cacophony of the day’s dissonant bleating that she must endure. She does everything with patience and a certain self-assurance, and she is paid the minimum monthly wage for her work, so it is clearly not about the money. Perhaps the visit from her sister Fidelia, and the opportunity to engage in an in-person conversation with another human being, may shed some light on her motivations…

Does the Horse Have to Work, Too? is not that kind of documentary, as Leonhard Pill opts for a strictly observational style in order to create space for the viewer’s own meditation on topics that rarely extend beyond passing thoughts. He is highly methodical and notably unsentimental in this approach, showing his protagonist’s life and work across all four seasons, with snapshots of incidental beauty, such as landscapes in the light of the setting sun, or the occasional ugliness and cruelty of natural law: stillborn lambs, babies dying for a variety of reasons, or old animals being killed. Much of the imagery captures the sheer mechanics of it all: a large flock moving from one point to another, two young rams head-butting, and Valeria carrying out her daily work with a sense of calm and serenity.

Although the documentary sometimes risks getting lost in repetition with only minimal variations, it is commendable for the filmmaker’s uncompromising attitude in showing things as they are, without explanation or sentimentality. He also undertakes most of the work himself: he serves as his own cinematographer, sometimes steps in front of the camera, or asks his protagonist questions about the specifics of her work and life, to which she responds in laconic fashion. Even the tracks she listens to are provided by his own band. The editing by Florian Lambrecht keeps the pace of the documentary in sync with natural processes, and suits the style Pill has chosen. Does the Horse Have to Work, Too? emerges as a highly sincere documentary that should connect with its niche audience.

A Film a Week - Remember My Song / Sjeti se moje pjesme

 previously published on Cineuropa

The collapse of Yugoslavia remains a subject of interest across generations in the states that succeeded it after the wars of the early 1990s. The central question is how the proclaimed ideals of “brotherhood and unity” in the former socialist regime morphed into nationalist hatred and quasi-tribal wars. Artists across different disciplines have sought to capture this transformation through metaphors drawn from a range of settings, such as ethnically mixed villages and towns, workplaces that employed large numbers of people, and communal spaces – bars, clubs, inns and taverns once widely frequented.

One such tavern that operated in the 1980s stands at the centre of the documentary Remember My Song, directed by Jelena Bosanac and Tanja Brzaković. The film has just premiered in the regional competition at ZagrebDox. The opening scene shows an ageing man reciting a poem about his village of Jugovo Polje beside its road sign. The rhymes are somewhat laboured and the worldview expressed in the poem is slightly naive, evoking the idyll before the war and portraying the war itself as a kind of demon that appeared from nowhere. The scene is followed by material from a personal archive, showing the immediate consequences of the events of the early 1990s: a bare structure too large to be a single residential unit, yet not large enough to function as an industrial building. In the ruins, completely ransacked years earlier, a woman finds an old LP record, and the time capsule opens.

It takes us to a tavern called Jablan, meaning “poplar”, which operated in a village near a busy road. Its owner, Nikola, was a capable businessman, and his wife Milena had a gift for managing staff. During the day, endless meals were prepared for passing truckers, and countless coffees from the first espresso machine in the area were served. On weekend nights, the tavern turned into a folk music disco, with live performances by aspiring singers and even established stars brought in from Belgrade. The owners and staff lived in harmony and unity, while the guests kept spending their money and “producing” countless anecdotes. Questions of nationality were never raised – until nationalism reached Jablan through its guests in the early 1990s, when politicians were stirring people up for war.

However authentic it may be, the story is quite typical, touching on all of the familiar cornerstones of idyll and nostalgia. What makes Remember My Song stand out, however, is the filmmakers’ approach. Much of the film is built entirely from found VHS footage and photographic material re-shot by Željko Felbar and edited by Hrvoslava Brkušić, using experimental forward and rewind techniques to create a psychedelic effect. This effect is further enhanced by the use of (Serbian) folk music, which taps into deeply rooted emotions and is further distorted by being sourced directly from ageing VHS recordings. Over this material, Milena, the waiters, the cooks, the musicians and the regular singer Haska narrate the stories they have collected.

The filmmakers’ decision to shift their approach once the tavern’s golden years are over, turning to a series of shots of empty spaces filmed by Boško Đorđević, proves to be another effective choice, as the stylistic contrast works very well and highlights the consequences of war and destruction. In the end, with Remember My Song, Bosanac and Brzaković may be telling a well-known, oft-told story, but they do so in a captivating manner.

Lista - April 2026.

 

Ukupno pogledano: 43 (34 dugometražna, 9 kratkometražnih)

Prvi put pogledano: 39 (31 dugometražni, 8 kratkometražnih)

Najbolji utisak (prvi put pogledano): The Bride!

Najlošiji utisak: Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

*ponovno gledanje

**kratkometražni

***srednjemetražni

kritike objavljene na webu su aktivni linkovi

datum izvor English Title / Originalni naslov (Reditelj, godina) - ocena/10

01.04. festival Four Minus Three / Vier Minus Drei (Adrian Goiginger, 2026) - 7/10
01.04. festival Mother's Baby (Johanna Moder, 2025) - 7/10
02.04. kino Ready or Not 2: Here I Come (Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, Tyler Gillett, 2026) - 4/10
02.04. kino They Will Kill You (Kiril Sokolov, 2026) - 6/10
02.04. video Pretty Lethal (Vicky Jewson, 2026) - 5/10
*04.04. kino Extraordinary / Glavonja (Marina Andree Škop, Vanda Raymanová, 2026) - 7/10
09.04. kino The Super Mario Galaxy Movie (Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic, Pierre Leduc, 2026) - 6/10
*11.04. video Crime 101 (Bart Layton, 2026) - 9/10
13.04. kino Franz (Agnieszka Holland, 2025) - 7/10
16.04. video Outcome (Jonah Hill, 2026) - 5/10
16.04. video Heel / Good Boy (Jan Komasa, 2025) - 6/10
18.04. kino The Bride! (Maggie Gyllenhaal, 2026) - 8/10
18.04. kino Hajduk u Beogradu (Milan Todorović, 2025) - 6/10
19.04. festival Synthetic Sincerity (Marc Isaacs, 2025) - 5/10
20.04. festival No Mercy (Isa Willinger, 2025) - 5/10
**20.04. festival Sanyi the Rooster / Sanyi kakas (Lotte Salomons, 2025) - 7/10
**20.04. festival Asparagus Bear / Medo u šparogama (Ivan Grgur, 2025) - 8/10
**20.04. festival Greetings from the Secretariat / Pozdrav iz sekretarijata (Ivan Ramljak, 2025) - 8/10
21.04. festival Ultras (Ragnhild Ekner, 2025) - 6/10
21.04. festival A Train Passes Every Day and It Never Stops / In fiecare zi trece acelasi si nu opreste nicodata (Vlad Petri, 2026) - 8/10
**21.04. festival Wed Lock Trad Wife (Gabriele Neudecker, 2025) - 7/10
**21.04. festival Black Gold / Crno zlato (Mitar Simikić, 2025) - 6/10
**21.04. festival Borderline of Freedom / Granice slobode (Jovana Semiz, 2025) - 7/10
**(*)22.04. festival Slet 1988 (Marta Popivoda, 2025) - 9/10
22.04. festival A Few Chunks of Cheese / Za nyakolko buchki sirene (Nikola Boshnakov, 2026) - 6/10
**22.04. festival Delta Oscar Mike (Dea Botica, 2025) - 6/10
22.04. festival Goranka's Time / Goranka (Boris Miljković, 2026) - 7/10
23.04. festival Punk Under Communist Regime / Punk pod komunističnim režimom (Andrej Košak, 2025) - 6/10
23.04. kino Mother Mary (David Lowery, 2026) - 4/10
24.04. festival The Feast of the Wolf / Vučja gozba (Jadran Boban, 2025) - 8/10
24.04. festival Remember My Song / Sjeti se moje pjesme (Jelena Bosanac, Tanja Brzaković, 2026) - 7/10
24.04. festival Meant to Be / Ez így volt szép (Olivér Márk Tóth, 2026) - 5/10
**24.04. festival This Desirable Device (Mina Simendić, 2026) - 5/10
27.04. festival Does the Horse Have to Work, Too? / Muss das Pferd auch arbeiten? (Leonhard Pill, 2026) - 6/10
27.04. festival Being Related to John Malkovich / Biti u rodu s Johnom Malkovichem (Luka Mavretić, 2025) - 7/10
28.04. festival Fragments of Belonging / Tragovi pripadanja (Tatjana Božić, 2026) - 7/10
29.04. festival The Visitor / Svečias (Vytautas Katkus, 2025) - 5/10
29.04. festival Straight Circle (Oscar Hudson, 2025) - 5/10
30.04. festival Paul (Denis Cote, 2025) - 7/10
30.04. festival Ghost Elephants (Werner Herzog, 2025) - 7/10
30.04. festival Kenny Daglish (Asif Kapadia, 2025) - 8/10
*30.04. festival The Girl in the Snow / L'engloutie (Louise Hémon, 2025) - 7/10
30.04. festival The Lights, They Fall (Saša Vajda, 2026) - 4/10