Lista - Avgust 2026.

 

Ukupno pogledano: 33 (27 dugometražnih, 6 kratkometražnih)

Prvi put pogledano: 30 (24 dugometražna, 6 kratkometražnih)

Najbolji utisak (prvi put pogledano): We Shall Live Together / Živjećemo zajedno

Najlošiji utisak: Her Private Hell

*ponovno gledanje

**kratkometražni

***srednjemetražni

kritike objavljene na webu su aktivni linkovi

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

01.08. festival Yellow Letters / Gelbe Briefe / Sari zarflar (Ilker Çatak, 2026) - 8/10
*05.08. festival Deep Red / Profondo rosso (Dario Argento, 1975) - 8/10
**05.08. video The Year the Sun Died / O Ano em que o Sol Morreu (Daney Carvalho, 2016) - 6/10
06.08. festival The Tigers / Los Tigres (Alberto Rodríguez, 2025) - 8/10
06.08. kino Her Private Hell (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2026) - 3/10
**07.08. festival Maids of Petroleum (Hans Baumann, 2026) - 8/10
**08.08. festival Street of Resistance (Jan Ciallella, 2026) - 6/10
**08.08. festival Khufu (Mahmoud Assi, 2026) - 7/10
12.08. festival Minotaur (Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2026) - 7/10
13.08. festival Nobody's Violence / Violence du corps d l'autre (Denis Coté, 2026) - 7/10
13.08. kino Minions & Monsters (Pierre Coffin, 2026) - 6/10
**16.08. festival Dear Orchid / Draga Orhidejo (Hana Selena Sokolović, 2026) - 5/10
17.08. festival Everytime (Sandra Wollner, 2026) - 6/10
*19.08. festival Electing Ms Santa (Raisa Razmerita, 2025) - 5/10
**19.08. festival Remember Julia (Diamantis Anastasiaidis, 2026) - 7/10
20.08. festival We Shall Live Together / Živjećemo zajedno (Damir Markovina, 2026) - 9/10
20.08. festival Shame and Money (Visar Morina, 2026) - 8/10
20.08. festival Dua (Blerta Basholli, 2026) - 7/10
20.08. festival Everything That's Wrong With You / Vse, kar je narobe s tabo (Urša Menart, 2026) - 7/10
20.08. festival 17 (Kosara Mitić, 2026) - 6/10
20.08. festival Skateboarding Is Not for Girls / Skejtanjeto ne e za devojčinja (Dina Duma, 2026) - 5/10
21.08. festival The Forbidden Aunt / Zabranjena tetka (Bojana Novaković, 2026) - 8/10
22.08. festival Home / Hjem (Marijana Janković, 2026) - 5/10
23.08. festival Parallel Tales / Histoires paralleles (Asghar Farhadi, 2026) - 4/10
25.08. festival Hen / Kota (György Pálfi, 2025) - 7/10
26.08. festival Gaja's World 3 - Follow Me / Gajin svet 3 (Peter Bratuša, 2026) - 6/10
27.08. festival No Fairy Dust / Pukotina u ledu (Maja Miloš, 2026) - 5/10
27.08. festival The Virus of Pathological Kindness / Virus patološke dobrote (Predrag Ličina, 2026) - 7/10
27.08. festival Black Money for White Nights / Cherni pari za beli noshti (Kristina Grozeva, Petar Valchanov, 2026) - 7/10
28.08. festival Fatherland (Pawel Pawlikowski, 2026) - 8/10
*28.08. festival To Hold a Mountain / Planina (Biljana Tutorov, Petar Glomazić, 2026) - 8/10
28.08. festival Hidden People / Skriti ljudje (Miha Hočevar, 2025) - 7/10
29.08. festival 3 Days in September / 3 zile in septembrie (Tudor Giurgiu, 2026) - 7/10

A Film a Week - The Forbidden Aunt / Zabranjena tetka

 previously published on Cineuropa

Serbian-Australian actress Bojana Novaković is widely-known for her work in television, as well as in Australian and Hollywood films, and people also know a thing or two about her highly-publicised past romances. Now, for the first time, she is testing her capabilities as a filmmaker with a documentary film inspired by the relationships within her own extended family. One could expect a strictly personal project, maybe even a proper artist’s ego trip, but The Forbidden Aunt truly transcends, and turns out to be something quite universal. The feature has just premiered in the documentary competition of the 32nd Sarajevo Film Festival.

The filmmaker’s starting point was an awkward situation she remembered from her childhood: her immediate family never let her spend too much time with one of her aunts, even though the woman had never harmed Bojana in any way and the filmmaker also remembers her as a fun person to be around. The reason for this attitude may have been aunt Gordana’s lifestyle, as she was what could be described as a bohemian. In an attempt to investigate the matter, Novaković goes back to Serbia in her hometown of Užice, where Gordana still lives, with the intention to make an easy-breezy documentary about her quirky aunt, who might be a bit foul-mouthed, but means no harm.

This is precisely what she appears like in the opening shot, where Gordana is giving her niece a lecture on the advantages of granny panties over g-strings. Also, she is the kind of person who is always happy to lend her neighbours a helping hand. Born the third daughter of a working-class family, she was never great at school, but she was a talented and inspired artist of a hairdresser who also loved to party in the company of men she easily fell for, and who did love a drink. Although her own children, Mladen and Marija, do not seem to hold any grudge against her, the truth is that their mother’s drinking was so excessive, and her behaviour so erratic, that they were basically left to fend for themselves as early as in their teenage years.

As soon as this is revealed, a breach is made which gradually opens, leading to a darker side of things, as the aforementioned destructive behaviour certainly had its reasons. Indeed, Gordana was an unwanted child, her “crime” being that she was a girl when her family expected a son. While her older sisters, Bojana’s mother Biljana and the family’s favourite, Mirjana, fared much better, Gordana was neglected. This childhood trauma caused by her parents later led, in adulthood, to her inflicting the same trauma to her own children, because hurt people hurt people.

The gesture of flipping one’s childhood memories upside down by digging into the darker side of one’s family’s past is not a particularly new one in documentary cinema – families always tend to harbour secrets and serve as battlefields for various conflicts between their members. The sincerity of the approach can help, but only so much. The thing with The Forbidden Aunt is that Bojana Novaković clearly sees a wider picture, but has enough discretion to refrain from using her family’s story as a metaphor of sorts for the Serbian and former Yugoslav society. Instead, she shows a lot of empathy for her aunt, possibly because she herself is no stranger to some of Gordana’s patterns of behaviour.

The special treat here is Novaković’s decision to listen to her aunt’s suggestion and insert a number of telenovela-style segments to re-enact moments of the family’s past, and to complement the rather scarce archive material and the newly filmed footage (of varying quality), shot by the filmmaker herself under varying conditions, which form the rest of the movie. The soap opera scenes, where Novaković plays both herself and Gordana alongside both professional actors and non-actors, serve the film quite well, due to Dušan Grubin’s lensing and Milica Kolarić’s inspired costumes. Thanks to these segments, The Forbidden Aunt feel a bit less like a necessary, but still very bitter pill to swallow.

A Film a Week - We Shall Live Together / Živjećemo zajedno

 previously published on Cineuropa

The Yugoslav wars of the 1990s, especially its Bosnia and Herzegovina chapter, and the disintegration of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia left hundreds of thousands of people killed, wounded or forcefully displaced, and traumatised millions of them - so much so that it has remained, to this day, one of the main topics in public debate in all of the countries that resulted from the breakup of the socialist state. Croatian documentary filmmaker Damir Markovina certainly had a “front-row seat” to these events, which have been, along with his and his family’s ordeal during those years, a core interest in his work. In the medium-length film Wait for Me (2021), he approached the issue of his extended family’s forced mobility between five cities or villages, in three different countries. His follow-up offering, also a medium-length film, the Ji.hlava-winning title Deserters (2022), was centred on his and his former classmates’ experiences as exiles from their city, Mostar, during the 1990s wars.

In his feature-length debut, Markovina goes further and gets more personal, as the main protagonist is Damir’s politician father, Roko Markovina, with his different roles on the public scene and at home, as well his dilemmas, decisions and actions, all this before, during and after the war which had repercussions for the whole family. We Shall Live Together has premiered in the Documentary Competition of the Sarajevo Film Festival.

On the political front, Roko Markovina was a remarkable figure – a man who refused to betray his socialist ideals in the midst of nationalist hysteria, and who was ready to pay the price for it. On a personal level, however, he could easily be described as a stubborn, selfish idealist of a man whose fair, but rigid, moral principles and will to sacrifice the well-being of his family to defend them left many scars. The questions that Damir Markovina primarily addresses are Roko’s reasons for having his family evacuated from Mostar so late, too late, and his refusal to come back to live in “his” town after the war – while his younger son, the well-known left-leaning intellectual Dragan Markovina, went back and still lives there now. Both of the sons play the devil’s advocate, asking their father the questions which should theoretically help them clarify certain things and also get closure, whereas their mother, Zina, keeps suffering quietly, craving some sense of stability and predictability in her twilight years.

We Shall Live Together is a demanding film that asks the viewer to take in a wealth of both facts and emotions (spoken or unspoken) – indeed, those who have seen some of Damir Markovina’s previous works or know something about the recent history of Yugoslavia are definitely at an advantage. For those less familiar with the topic, Markovina provides enough contextual elements – via thoughtfully written on-screen intertitles – which feel unique and fit the general vibe of the film perfectly.

The same level of intricacy can be observed when it comes to the craftsmanship behind the film, which Markovina has lean a bit more towards experimental cinema than his previous ones – for instance, when he projects home movies onto the faces appearing in a still photo in the opening scene – while making sure he delivers a smooth blend, melding spontaneous newly filmed footage (shot by himself, Krešimir Štulina, and Tomislav Krnić) with intriguing archival images of the war and the Parliament. The striking sound design (courtesy of Miroslav Piškulić) must also be mentioned as one of the film’s highlights, and so must the editing, masterfully handled by Vladimir Gojun and Marta Bregeš.

In the end, We Shall Live Together is not just (and is not yet another) documentary about war, damaged family relations and the collapse of Yugoslavia told in the first person; it may very well be the ultimate film on all of these subjects.

Shame and Money

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Kao pobednik Sandens Festivala u međunarodnoj igranoj konkurenciji, treći dugometražni film Visara Morine, Shame and Money, stigao je u takmičarski program Sarajeva kao film sa najjačom reputacijom. Status favorita malo je poljuljan već prvog takmičarskog dana festivala kada je iz Lokarna stigla vest da je Zlatnog leoparda tamo odneo film You Don‘t Belong Here Florina Šerbana koji će zatvoriti takmičarski program Sarajeva. Do tada, posvetimo se filmu koji ga je otvorio...

Visar Morina kroz celu svoju karijeru baca neko drugo svetlo kojima razobličuje naše predodžbe o pojedinim stvarima. U dugometranom prvencu Babai (2015), dohvatio se svoje emigracije u Nemačku na vrhuncu terora režima Slobodana Miloševića nad kosovskim Albancima, ali je usput potkačio i naše, globalne, a naročito balkanske pretpostavke o porodičnoj i nacionalnoj slozi u trenucima krize. Usledio je Egzil (2020) u kojem je temi imigracije i integracije pristupio originalno i postavio pitanje šta se dešava kada imigrant odnekud nije „u odgovarajućem tipu“ prema očekivanjima zemlje domaćina, te šta se dešava kada neko utripuje da ga diskriminišu po nacionalnoj osnovi, a ne da ga izbegavaju zbog ne baš najprijatnijeg karaktera. S trećim filmom, Morina se vraća na mesto premijere prethodnika, ali i razbijanju mitova o porodičnoj slozi i o solidarnosti u kapitalizmu.

Dok tinja sukob između najstarijeg brata Agima, seoskog učitelja koji prevashodno misli na svoju reputaciju i ugled, i najmlađeg Liridona koji ukućanima krade novac koji nemilice troši, kola se po pravilu slamaju nad srednjim bratom Šabanom (Astrit Kabaši) koji gotovo sam održava skromno porodično imanje na selu. Kada Liridon ukrade i proda krave, a Agim odbije da za njim pošalje policiju kako bi izbegao sramotu, Šaban mora da se sa svojom ženom Hatidžom (Flonja Kodeli), tri kćeri i starom majkom preseli u Prištinu u potrazi za poslom.

Prva pomoć koju dobijaju od Hatidžine sestre Line (Fiona Glavica) i njenog muža Aljbana (Aljban Ukaj) dovoljna je tek za preživljavanje, ali ne i za život s ponosom. Šaban tako postaje domar i čistal u Aljbanovom noćnom klubu koji radi tri noći nedeljno, a zarada na tom poslu nije dovoljna ni za kiriju. Hatidža uglavnom besplatno pomaže Lini u brizi oko bolesnog svekra, a kada ova pokuša da joj se oduži, Hatidža na takvu vrstu kompenzacije ne pristaje.

Šaban zbog toga iz dana u dan pokušava da nađe nekakav nadničarski posao, ali to da ga komšije vide na ulici s drugim očajnicima Aljbanu pričinjava sramotu. Opet, Šaban osećaj srama smatra luksuzom, jer on traži pošten posao, a ne milostinju. I u tom procesu polako puca pod pritiskom, možda ne toliko da bi poveo revoluciju, ali možda dovoljno da bi o njoj sanjao kada i ako napadne nekog od svojih poslodavaca.

Visar Morina vrlo precizno studira ljudski karakter kao prizmu kroz koju se prelamaju sentimenti kao što su ponos, sramota, očaj i nagon za preživljavanjem. U tom smislu, Šaban je arhetip tog nekog i svakog radnika kojem je svaki posao pošten posao i koji zapravo nema čega da se stidi i srami. Opet, pitanje je koliko je on istovremeno jak da se sa svim očekivanjima, svojim ili tuđim, nosi.

Njega savršeno odmereno i uverljivo igra Astrit Kabaši, dok mu ostali sekundiraju ili pariraju pod Morininom dirigentskom palicom. U pariranju se najviše ističe Aljban Ukaj, kosovski, sarajevski i internacionalni glumac koji možda i poseduje najveću prezentnost na ekranu od svih regionalnih glumaca svoje generacije. Njih dvojica savršeno dočaravaju pozicije onih koji imaju i onih koji nemaju u savremenom klasno podeljenom društvu.

Još jedan aspekt u kojem Morina briljira su scene u kojima nije jasno predstavljaju li one realnost ili Šabanove fantazije koje u svakom trenutku mogu da se izvrnu u realistični košmar, posebno ona u kojem se oplelo svadbarsko kolo oko Klintonovog spomenika u Prištini. Time autor možda poručuje svojim zemljacima: „Dobro, nezavisni smo već neko vreme, ali jesmo li uradili nešto za sebe, ili samo za odabrane?“ U svakom slučaju, Shame and Money je film ozbiljnih umetničkih i festivalskih dometa koji ponekad možda i prejako i preteško udara.

Skateboarding Is Not for Girls / Skejtanjeto ne e za devojčinja

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

I drugi dugometražni uradak Dine Dume, Skejtanje nije za devojčice, imao je zvučnu festivalsku premijeru, na festivalu Tribeka u Njujorku. Zbog toga je i malo drugačije upakovan, onako „po američki“, u žanr filmova o odrastanju, te „umočen“ u smesu balkansko-romske egzotike i potpuno fokusiran na temu sukoba prevaziđenih tradicija i modernosti. Po tom pomalo kalkulantskom pristupu se razlikuje od autoričinog prvenca Sestre (2021) koji možda nije donosio ništa kapitalno novo na globalnom planu, ali je na regionalnom bio osvežavajući u načinu na koji tretira fenomen savremenog sramoćenja, i može se reći da je imao dušu.

U centru pažnje imamo devojčicu Adelu (Efkjar Abaz) čiji je hobi skejt. Njena porodica je u problemu jer je otac Bajram, umesto da šalje novac iz Švajcarske, tamo pronašao novu ženu. Majka Esma (Simonida Selimović) zbog diskriminacije ne može da pronađe posao u struci, a novac koji zarađuje čisteći po kućama nije dovoljan da izdržava porodicu. Jedini spas je, po viđenju majke i tetke, da starija sestra Zara (Džefrina Jašari) stupi u dogovoreni brak s dečkom iz „bolje kuće“, iako već ima svog momka. Adela u skejt-turniru vidi priliku da spasi svoju sestru od udaje protiv njene volje i da finansijski pomogne svojoj porodici.

Za razliku od filma 17, ovaj je čak i preterano lagan, reklo bi se zašećeren. Fotografija pršti u svetlim, osunčanim tonovima, zajedno s montažnim trikovima poput podeljenih ekrana i povremenog usporavanja fingiraju estetiku video-spota. Portretirani običaji deluju pre suludo i egzotično nego preteće i diskriminatorno, naročito prema ženama, pa sve počinje da pomalo liči na bajku. Na taj način, Dina Duma kao da nastavlja trend egzotizacije za strano, pre svega američko tržište koji je bio prisutan u festivalskim hitovima Domaćinstvo za početnike (Goran Stolevski, 2023) i DJ Ahmet (Georgi M. Unkovski, 2025). Šteta je što ta egzotika priređena za festivale retko kad deluje autentično.

17

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

17, dugometražni debi Kosare Mitić, premijeru je imao na Berlinalu, u takmičarskoj sekciji Perspectives. U filmu pratimo sedamnaestogodišnju protagonistkinju Saru (Eva Kostić) koja ide sa svojim razredom na ekskurziju u Grčku, sa zaustavljanjem u Bitolju. Dok se momci napijaju još u autobusu, penju na glavu profesorki i glasno odbijaju posetu muzeju, a devojke šminkaju, ogovaraju i nešto kasnije napijaju, Sara se uglavnom drži za sebe i čuva jednu tajnu.

Tajnu nije teško pogoditi, posebno ako poslušamo ogovaranja – ona je u visokoj trudnoći nakon što su je napila i silovala dvojica momaka iz razreda. Kada, podgrejana alkholom, u sličnoj situaciji završi njena naivnija i manje iskusna drugarica Lina (Martina Danilovska), Sara interveniše i ulazi u otvoreni sukob s ostatkom razreda. Međutim, ona će uskoro imati mnogo veći problem koji mora da reši.

Film 17 najbolje funkcioniše kao studija kako se mlada devojka nosi s različitim pritiscima, od očekivanja raznih „faktora“ u njenom životu (roditelji, profesori, društvo), preko sramote koja joj se nameće iako nije kriva ni za šta, do onih sasvim opipljivih i moguće opasnih po život. Kamera Nauma Doksevskog koja svojim levitiranjem oko protagonistkinje oponaša stil braće Darden jasan je signal u tom pravcu, a tajming Kosare Mitić u upravljanju filmskim vremenom je izvrstan. Autorica takođe pokazuje ambicije da kritikuje makedonsko, i uopšte globalno savremeno društvo u kojem su nasilje i pretnje istim uobičajena stvar, a da sve to spoji kroz ugao ženskog iskustva.

Nažalost, film u tome postaje rasplinut, pretrpan i ekscesan, na momente čak i nepotrebno gadan, a sve vreme prilično nategnut po pitanju logike pojedinih postupaka likova. Pod-ton „divljeg Balkana“ kojim vladaju patrijarhat i obrasci mišljenja iz XIX veka na koje se nove tehnologije samo „kaleme“, a koji se takođe sve vreme provlači, ne pomaže da se zakrpe pukotine u logici i time učvrsti realističnost „sveta“ koji Kosara Mitić stvara.

Everything That's Wrong With You / Vse, kar je narobe s tabo

 kritika objavljena u dodatku Objektiv dnevnog lista Pobjeda

Urša Menart se vratila na filmsku pozornicu s novim igranim filmom i jedinom svetskom premijerom u takmičarskom programu Sarajeva, Sve što s tobom nije u redu, koji se unekoliko nastavlja na njen prethodni dugometražni igrani uradak Nikad više luzerka (2017). S prethodnikom je pretendovala da bude glas generacije, pa je bez sentimentalnosti govorila o specifičnoj poziciji u životu mlade osobe, onoj između svršenih studija i građenja karijere, kao i o egzistencijalnim i psihološkim problemima s kojima se te mlade osobe suočavaju. Sada ima dve protagonistkinje umesto jedne, za nijansu su starije, ali su im životi i dalje „u leru“, bilo da imaju posao ili ne, a ti životi su se još i više preselili u virtuelnu sferu.

Maruša (Anuša Kodelja) se vratila iz Berlina u Sloveniju da bi se brinula o bolesnoj majci. Majka je umrla, a na Maruši je da se suoči s gubitkom i reši „administrativne repove“ potpuno sama. S ocem i njegovom novom porodicom se ne razume najbolje i to je jedan od razloga zašto pribegava autodestruktivnim obrascima ponašanja kao što su napijanje i drogiranje.

U virtuelnom svetu, Maruša upozaje i počinje da se dopisuje s Aljom (Klara Kuk) koja živi u Nemačkoj, negde na severu i na obali. Njih dve se zbližavaju preko sličnog načina života i obrazaca ponašanja, pa Maruša rešava da, pre nego što se vrati u Berlin, svoju novu prijateljicu poseti uživo. Međutim, za razliku od Maruše koja je brutalno iskrena do nivoa uvredljivosti, čini se da je Alja malo „frizirala“ svoju internetsku personu. Je li prijateljstvo u takvim uslovima života moguće?

Urša Menart je, po sopstvenom priznaju, inspiraciju vukla iz dva izvora. Prvi su bile anegdote, najčešće iz Amerike, o putešestvijama najčešće usamljenih devojaka na drugi kraj zemlje da upoznaju svoje virtuelne prijateljice. Drugi, pak, korona i nametnuta izolacija koja je ljude još dodatno preselila u virtuelni svet.

Rezultat je slojevit film koji je krcat važnim pitanjima s kojima se suočavaju ljudi u savremenom svetu – izolacija, mogućnost prijateljstva, odnos prema sebi i drugima, laži, istini i projektovanoj slici – zapakovan u kamernu dramu i nekakav „roud muvi“ koji tapka u mestu. S time u vezi, valja posebno pohvaliti izdanja mladih glumica i njihovu sinergiju s autoricom koja u karakterizaciji nije pribegavala prečicama i stereotipima, već ih je navodila da odigraju kompletne i životne osobe. Takođe, pomalo dokumentaristička, adaptivna fotografija Roja van Egmonda odlično kreira osećaj „zimske depresije“, „milenijalske anksioze“ i nesigurnosti. Kao nedostatak se može navesti relativna repetitivnost u prosedeu, ali i ona ima neku svoju dramaturšku funkciju, pa možemo zaključiti da se Urša Menart razvija u filmsku autoricu s vrlo distinktivnim potpisom.