Serbia and a family--past and present--in Mila Turajlic's THE OTHER SIDE OF EVERYTHING

If you think you know Serbia -- as TrustMovies rather foolishly imagined that he did -- simply from earlier history and/or reports of the wartime genocide and destruction of Yugoslavia back in the 1990s, here is an unusual and surprising documentary -- THE OTHER SIDE OF EVERYTHING -- made by a filmmaker (Mila Turajlic) about her mother (Srbijanka Turajlić), a former professor, constant activist and noted scholar. The movie's concen, one of them at least, is what the modern "creation" of a separate Serbian state has meant to mom, her friends and family, and to the barely recognized old woman who, along with her late husband, had been living ensconced in a couple of sealed-off rooms of the family's apartment for decades. Yes: Right about now, you're entitled to be asking, What the fuck?

Who was this old woman, and why has she been there? That's just one of the several questions opened up and only somewhat answered in this slow-burn exploration by a daughter (shown at right) of what it has meant to be her mother over not simply the decades that daughter has been alive, but back to the time of her grandparents and great-grandparents. Simultaneously, the documentary explores what it has meant to live in Belgrade over these lifetimes, during which, as mom points out, you took for granted (don't we all?) that your city would always be part of the same country.

One of the more telling moments comes as mom recalls filling out the first census under Serbia's genocidal President Slobodan Milošević and no longer being able to check off, under "country," the choice of Yugoslavia. The younger Turajlić certainly has visual flair: From her opening, as we view the building in which she grew up shrouded in fog, her sense of color, design and composition proves beautiful and compelling. But it's her foray into family and politics that will most amaze you, I think.

Her mother (above and below), as Mila points out in not unkindly fashion toward the film's end, is a hypocrite. And despite her very progressive and near-lifelong activism, mom is bourgeois to the bone. Just note her attention to the caring for and cleaning of the apartment, as well as the unending delight she takes in her fine china and crystal. Conversely, it seems that her poor "tenant," a self-proclaimed and proud member of the proletariat, was also a huge fan of Milošević. (Well, consider the fan base of the current President of the USA.)

The ironies come thick and fast here. And for folk like me who are not that conversant with Serbian history, we'll probably realize that we're missing half the fun (and the sadness). The younger Turajlić has researched well the archives for some very interesting newsreel footage, and it may surprise audiences to learn that while most Serbs supported Milošević, many did not. The scenes of protests against this dictator should make you think twice.

You may wonder along the way how it is that the senior Turajlić survived until now. Was the regime afraid to turn her into a martyr? Or did she, as during the protest shown near the film's beginning, sometimes not join in due to the remonstrations from her filmmaker daughter? And how about the bizarre treatment of her long-term tenant, for whom she seems to have shown almost no interest? (Her husband, the filmmaker's father, at least according the daughter's account here, was actively verbally abusive to the older couple.)

Well, nobody's perfect, and Srbijanka Turajlić seems in many ways a model of progressive thinking and behavior. And her daughter's fine documentary -- remarkably rich, moving and so beautifully filmed -- should stand the test of time, as well as giving American audiences their first wider look at the recently "renovated" nation they know a lot less about than they might have imagined. And yes, those closed doors (below) do eventually get opened.

After a very limited theatrical release last year, the documentary arrives on home video this coming week via Icarus Films Home Video. Look for it to hit the street on DVD and VOD next Tuesday, August 13 -- for purchase and/or rental.

Srdjan Spasojevic's A SERBIAN FILM hits DVD and Blu-ray; Netflix decides to pass

Anyone who believes in the concept of karma might easily see A SERBIAN FILM as payback to (and from) the country who gave us the ugly, elongated and unnecessary Serbo-Croatian war of the 1990s. Film-wise (and culture-wise), is this how Serbia wants to be remembered? OK, you got it! Ah, but this might be the simplistic view. Let's instead look for another way to think about this film. You've heard, I imagine, that porn stars are severely taken-advantage-of in terms of career, money earned and status conferred. So think of this movie, written and directed by Srdjan Spasojevic (his first), as a remarkably bracing workout of the idea that porn stars get hopelessly fucked -- literally and metaphorically.

You could also take the film as a severe indictment of Serbia -- familial, political, economic, sexual and cultural.  Or as a fabulous excuse to maximize sex, violence, blood and gore. (To the credit of Mr. Spasojevic -- pictured at right -- there is not a single explosion, car chase or crash to be seen.) So what is A Serbian Film? It's all of the above, the result of which is in no manner the least bit edifying.

This is not to say that the movie is empty of anything good. The lead perfor-mance, in fact, is quite good. It comes from Srdjan Todorovic, in action below, playing the country's leading male porn star, reminiscent of our own John Holmes: a quite unprepossessing type -- until he takes off his pants. Mr. Todorovic proves just fine in that department, too -- at half mast, at least: I suspect the erections that we see are prosthetically enhanced (Mr. Holmes' were the real thing).

The photography, too, is fine (it's just the subject matter that's a downer.) Further, the Blu-ray transfer I watched was absolutely first-rate in terms of sharpness, color, and all the rest. The filmmaker knows his way around believable dialog and his pacing, framing, and clever use of fantasy vs reality all work well. (The cinematography is by Nemanja Jovanov and the editing by newcomer Darko Simic.)

The tale, such as it is, concerns the famous and now retired porn star being called back into action to make some sort of "art/porno" movie for an amount of money so vast that we never actually hear it spoken (he whispers it into the ear of his wife -- who immediately gives him the go-ahead). His producer/director, played with maniacal glee and a bit of smarts by Sergej Trifunovic (above) is soon revealed as a nutcase extraordinaire, and yet our hero never asks for any of that cash upfront. Silly boy. As it flows along and corrodes, the film becomes a kind of mystery as to what happened and why. All will be revealed, and will be every bit as awful as you could have imagined.

The first sex scene actually serves up a smattering of The Parallax View, and the first half of the movie -- which is being marketed, with the help of most critics, as something ground-breakingly over-the-top -- seems, well, not so horrible, after all. Then things get worse. And by worse, I mean that it appears that our filmmaker and his friends sat around in bull sessions, thinking up the very worst things imaginable that could happen to a family man/porn star -- and then wrote them and filmed them.

Consequently, any legitimate, resonant subjects buried within A Serbian Film are finally no more than an excuse for upping the ante on the usual blood, violence, sex and gore plus incest, necrophilia, pedophilia and (so far as I know) the brand new entrant in the envelope-pushing sweepstakes, "newborn porn." Is all this degrading? Yessiree -- to its creators and to us viewers. And certainly to Sony, which company I hope did not pay for the very obvious product placement that comes midway into things.

The movie is finally about as ugly, nasty and cynical as seems humanly possible to grind into 102 minutes (the DVD and Blu-ray offer a lengthier cut that was shown in Britain ). And if this sounds like a recommendation, be my guest.

From Invincible Pictures, the DVD/Blu-ray hit streets this past Tuesday, October 25. With Netflix -- who initially offered the film in its Saved section of your queue -- suddenly deciding not to carry the film, I am uncertain where it can be rented. But I understand that a streaming option is also now available from FlixFling.com.

HERE AND THERE, '09 Tribeca winner from Darko Lungulov, opens at last

Robert (David Thornton) -- a dour, depressed and down-on-his-luck musician -- gets involved with a feckless Serbian immigrant in New York (Branislav Trifunovic), who corrals him into a marriage-for-money scheme that takes him to Serbia.  A fish-out-of-water/
curmudgeon-sees-the-light story, HERE AND THERE is also a rom-com-cum-
immigration-fable that -- due to its short running time (80 minutes) and refusal to take itself too seriously -- works pretty well.  Plus, it offers Cyndi Lauper in a couple of scenes and one of her songs on its soundtrack.

Written and directed (his first narrative feature) by Darko Lungulov (shown at right), the movie makes a nice u-turn midway along, which you may expect by that point but appreciate nonetheless because it confounds your earlier expectations.  If the film is finally a little too tepid as its story morphs into something different, it still grows more interesting, even as it becomes a bit predictable.  Yet Lungulov never pushes, and if his subsidiary characters -- Mr Trifunovic, for instance, and his dealings with an Hispanic sleazebag (Antone Pagan) -- smack more of convenience than believability, it is all handled with a light touch.

What Here and There manages quite cleverly is to turn the tables on the old, coming-to-America theme.  It's Thorton (above) who turns out to be the immigrant throughout much of the movie, and he is welcomed in Serbia far more than are Serbs (or most other "foreigners") here in the USA.  Creativity, too (in this case music), is given its due, as Robert begins to relax, loosen up and get back in touch with his art.  The wonderful actress Mirjana Karanovic (shown below, from Fräulein, Grbavica, Witnesses, Cabaret Balkan, Underground) is a enormous help to the movie, grounding it with her quiet presence.  So full of feeling, wisdom and sexuality is Karanovic, no wonder this deeply appealing actress works consistently.

At last year's Tribeca Film Fest (2009), Lungulov's film won the Best New York Narrative Award and then promptly disappeared from view, so it's nice to have it back in sight. If only to see the gradual opening up of Thorton's angry character (when he finally smiles, it's like the world's first sunrise), the movie is worth a look.

Here and There opened yesterday, May 14, in NYC at the Quad Cinema, where it will play for one week, before opening in Los Angeles on May 21 at the Laemmle Music Hall.