Due to A Serbian Film notorious reputation, this review will contain some spoilers. But let us be honest- if you are reading this review, chances are that you already know about this film’s most controversial scenes.

If you are questioning how a film with A Serbian Film’s reputation could make it onto the Midnight Selections, then odds are you have not seen it. Not that you necessarily should- films with extreme content are not for everyone- but having now viewed it, I think I can safely say that the rumours of this being the most disgusting and disturbing movie ever made are greatly exaggerated. I do, however, warn that those uninitiated in extreme cinema should not use A Serbian Film as their entry point. It would be a bit like jumping into the deep end before you learned how to swim.

Admittedly, A Serbian Film’s nasty reputation kept me from seeing it for longer than it should had. But over the years, I’ve read enough praise from people whose opinions I respect to finally take the leap. And I am glad I did because, for me, the most unexpected thing about A Serbian Film was how much I enjoyed it.

A Serbian Film is the debut feature by Srđan Spasojević. The film follows Milos (Srdjan Todorovic), a retired porn star turned family man, as he worries about how he might now pay the bills. One day Milos gets a call from a former co-star, Lejia, who tells him that if he agrees, she has a new job lined up for him working with a mysterious new director named Vukmir (Sergej Trifunović). Milos is reluctant to step back into the world of porn, but he agrees to hear Vukmir out. The next day, a car comes for Milos and takes him to Vukmir’s mansion. Once there, Vukmir explains that he creates “art” for wealthy clients and flatters Milos, calling him the only true artist working in pornography. But when Milos asks what the project is about, Vukmir is reluctant to share. This lack of transparency causes Milos concern, but he still signs the contract after seeing the large sum of money being offered.

The next day, Milos finds the car outside again ready to take him to work.  

The set up for A Serbian Film is fantastic. From the starting scene, which shows Milos’ young son watching one of his pornos, the film uncomfortably oozes in sleaze. Spasojević patiently uses the early frames to make Milos’ environment believable. The people who occupy this world match what one might expect from a retired porn star, including Vukmir…at least initially. It is not until after Milos shows up for his first day of work that the film transforms into a bleak, stylized, nihilistic fantasy where things only get progressively worse. The directional mastery Spasojević has over the film’s overall tone is outstanding. Considering this is Spasojević first feature, he seems remarkably accomplished.

In many ways, Spasojević appears to be channelling his inner-Sam Raimi. As a director, Raimi has a history of relentlessly torturing his protagonists both mentally and physically, challenging their moral centers. You see it in his superhero films, but it is best on display in the Evil Dead series when dealing with Ash. In many ways, Milos is Spasojević’s Ash. He is a character that is taken into the depths of hell for our own curiosity and amusement. Milos starts the film stuck in the middle of a torturous how-far-will-he-go-for-money scenario and then is taken far past his breaking point. And like Raimi’s protagonists, Milos is a figure we empathise with. Yes, he is a former porn star, but he is also a devoted husband and father, and he senses something amiss with Vukmir well before it is painfully obvious. Milos’ wife also claims he is the only porn star to have a university degree, which intentionally calls into question Serbia’s job prospects since work seems so hard to find. (In 2010, the unemployment rate in Serbia was over 19%.) As an actor, Todorovic deserves a lot of credit for making Milos such a likeable character despite his questionable choice of occupation, because if he wasn’t, the punches A Serbian Film delivers would not land so hard.

I should also acknowledge that Trifunović is equally well cast as the charismatic, but ultimately deranged, Vukmir. His is a particularly brilliant standout performance.

I suppose some people who watch A Serbian Film could get caught up in its suffocating tone and miss the campy, dark humour in its most over-the-top scenarios. For all the fuss, that infamous baby rape scene is not particularly graphic and it is clearly aiming for laughs with the right audience. If you don’t believe me, listen closer to Vukmir’s hilarious diatribe about the creation of his new porn genre. This scene is heavy on the satire. (I personally think that this is a film that benefits by being seen in a crowded theater with like-minded people who understand and appreciate extreme cinema.) And the film’s insanely horrific climax is pure grindhouse fun too. I mean…come on….the eye socket!! In fact, for all of its controversy, the most infamous scenes in A Serbian Film did not disturb me at all. If they had, I would not be able to recommend the film, let alone list it as a Master Work.

But that is not to say that A Serbian Film isn’t disturbing, just that people have focused too much attention on all the wrong scenes. On paper, newborn porn sounds terrible. In execution, it got a chuckle out of me. But seeing Milos in a dark room getting a blow job from a strange woman while two giant screens project close-ups of the face of a preteen girl, one in which she is sucking a lollipop…that is extremely unsettling: though, for me, a little less so then some of the scenes in Terry Gilliam’s Tideland. (To be clear, I am admitting that I found Tideland to be far more disturbing than A Serbian Film.) It is also tough to justify a few of the questionable things the young actor who played Milos’ son would had seen while on set and I hope the film crew was careful dealing with him. Call me old-fashion, but I guess at the end of the day I am much more concerned with the mental well-being of the living, breathing child actors who participated in the film, as I often am after watching many dark films involving children, than I am over the sexual abuse given to a prop shaped like a newborn.

And as for all those supposedly traumatised viewers who post comments on the Internet, I just want to say that A Serbian Film is not a film you accidently find in the queues of Netflix and Amazon and naively decide to give a whirl. Everyone who has actually watched this film has actively sought it out.

Those who can look beyond A Serbian Film’s extremity will find a film packed full of interesting sociopolitical sub-text. The title is ironic. Obviously, this is not how Serbians wish to see their country represented on screen and many prominent Serbs have understandably been vocal in their condemnation. Outside of Serbia, the title is meant to satirize the negative view of Serbian people perceived by the rest of the world. There are also numerous examples the implied corruption by Serbian men in positions of authority. Milos’ wife refers to his brother as a crooked cop and Vukmir’s film crew/bodyguards both wear police uniforms. Before becoming the director of snuff films, Vukmir served the government as child psychologist. And then there is that unidentified man in a business suit who is occasionally seen lurking in the background. Is this film for him?

Whatever you feel about the film, there is no denying that Spasojević is angry, and his anger is pointed straight at the internal politics of his nation. Vukmir may parody directors from the Eastern Bloc, but Spasojević also uses him to channel some of his own frustrations with postwar Serbia. In one speech Vukmir declares that “The whole fucking country is one big shitty kindergarten. A bunch of kids discarded by their parents.” In another speech, he says that “Victim sells, Milos. Victim is the priciest sell in this world. The victim feels the most and suffers the best. We are a victim, Milos. You, me, this whole nation is a victim.” For those who don’t know the history, after the Yugoslavian wars, Serbia elected a secession of corrupt prime ministers that were too often brought down by scandals while the country suffered a deep economic recession. Spasojević has said that he wanted A Serbian Film to serve as a metaphor for how “the country’s government ensures you’re fucked when you’re born, you’re fucked while alive, and you’re fucked when you die.” Everybody who has made it to the end credits knows why that statement is funny. 

A Serbian Film is also the country’s first independently funded feature, meaning it is the first Serbian movie that required no government funding or outside investment to get made. (The going belief is that Spasojević funded most of the film himself.) Free from the interference of investors, Spasojević uses the film’s extreme content as giant middle finger aimed towards the Serbian film industry, which he says will not provide financing “unless you have a barefoot girl who cries on the streets, or some story about war victims in our region … the Western world has lost feelings, so they’re searching for false ones, they want to buy feelings.” Spasojević criticism is that Serbian films either pander to government or foreign investors and only create unauthentic representations of Serbia. (This is not to imply that Spasojević has given us an authentic representation of his homeland.) In this context it is easy to see how Vukmir’s obedience to his wealthy clients serves as an allegory for the industry’s creative shortcomings.

Since its release, however, A Serbian Film has more broadly acted as a defiant thorn in the side of all outside countries that have tried to censor it. The film has been banned in several counties, including Spain, Australia and Norway…but in the age of the Internet, that has not really stopped anyone from seeing it. As everybody knows, when you ban a film like this one, you just add to its notoriety, giving it a ton of extra publicity.

A Serbian Film is modern grindhouse with a lot of effective political subtext. It is a film that contains scenes, for better or worse, that will etch themselves in your memory, and the acting, pacing and cinematography are top-notch. Like the best extreme filmmakers, Spasojević has an excellent understanding of the lines of decency and how to successfully cross them. His film now lives in that perfect pocket where those who once condemned it, and those who continue to do so, only help to ensure its longevity. It has become almost equal in legacy to Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. It is now the quintessential disturbing film curiosity, and no amount of censorship will stop those who actively seek out “the most extreme” from seeing it. That is no small feat. Well done Spasojević. I look forward to your next project.