Having visited the Balkan region very recently myself and learning of the history of the rise and fall of Yugoslavia, there is a new set of insights that come from such an experience that make certain films feel very different and far more layered than we may have initially expected had we not been armed with that information. In the case of Lost Country (Serbian: Sramota), we find ourselves taking a trip to Serbia in the mid-1990s, which was a notoriously challenging time in the region, with both political and social unease causing a lot of unnecessary hostility and bloodshed, something that is still quite a controversial topic, less than a quarter of a century since the end of the conflict. Written and directed by Vladimir Perišić, the film tells the story of Stefan, a teenager growing up during this period, coming of age at a time when his entire future is not only uncertain but guaranteed to be bleak, since the direction in which his life is heading (as well as that of his peers) is not all that comforting, considering the political turmoil. It is only worsened by the fact that his mother is the spokesperson for a radical socialist organization that is at the forefront of the conflict, essentially being the voice for the political extremists that are often viewed as being the source of the tensions. A fascinating character study that is not afraid of being slightly dark to deliver a specific point, Lost Country is one of the year’s most provocative works, a quiet but compelling journey into the past that challenges as much as it informs, which is always the signifier of a truly well-constructed drama, and one that comes from someone who is developing as one of his nation’s most original artistic voices. It can be unconventional at times, and it weaves together many disparate narrative threads, but it is ultimately an informative and compelling drama with a lot of unique components, all of which work together to become this hauntingly beautiful depiction of the past, as seen by those who were present for some of its darker moments.

As a general rule, making any kind of drama set in or around the former Yugoslavia is going to need to factor in the region’s history in some way – the reality is that the conflicts that occurred in the Balkans are still too recent to not be found frequently in the majority of works. In just over two decades, the region has seen a lot of change, and by how recently it has rebuilt itself, we have to acknowledge that these events were not so much in the past that it is ever particularly easy for us to overlook them when telling a story about any of these countries. The spectre of the past lingers heavily, and Lost Country is a perfect encapsulation of just about everything that these stories represent, both in terms of the past and present directions that these countries tend to be heading in the years surrounding the end of the conflict. This film in particular is fascinating since it doesn’t focus directly on the war (which is still quite a controversial subject), but rather circulates other major events of the period, particularly those within the world of politics, which this film is actively exploring with incredible rigour and honesty. Ultimately, Lost Country is a film about the harsh nature of the past, particularly the challenges that come when someone realizes that their life is not nearly as easy as they have been told it should be, which is the source of a lot of the film’s darker commentary. It is a bleak film, one that is not afraid to look at the haunting nature of reality and show the suffering and division within even a moment of flinching or attempting to pacify the message. It is a very bold film and one that justifies some of its more harrowing content with the active demonstration of a deeper message, which the director easily accomplishes by making it very clear that he had profoundly impactful reasons for making this film, which is not always easy, but still understandable considering the kind of material with which he was working.

As much as we may be tempted to reduce Lost Country to be a political film, there is something much more profound that the director brings to the process, and we soon find that the best parts of the film are those that are not directly related to the political climate, but rather the situation that surrounded it. The most fascinating elements come in how Perišić uses this film to contrast the bleak political conditions with a story of family, which comes in the form of centring the narrative on a young man coming of age during this period of political turmoil – he is born in the country known as Yugoslavia but finds himself coming of age in Serbia, despite being in the same home in which he grew up. The film draws correlations between these broader historical issues and the protagonist’s journey during these formative moments in his life, particularly in the relationship he has with his mother, who works for the socialist party and is by extension part of the political machine that our young protagonist actively seeks to escape. This film dares to ask what life is like for those who are related to someone involved in spreading propaganda and inciting tensions, even if only indirectly. The film is as much about the political situation as it is a story of a mother and her son, who may come from different generations and have varying views on the world in which they inhabit but are connected by something much deeper. The film doesn’t allow the characters to have the happy ending we may hope for, but it does allow more unique insights into the personal life of its protagonist, offering a lot of complex commentary on his life, particularly the contentious but ultimately loving relationship he has with his mother, which is almost counterintuitive to his beliefs as a young man growing up in an era where the new generation will view pacifism as not only an option but an admirable quality.

Lost Country is the kind of film that only works with the right actors in the central roles, and we find that we have two exceptional performances that anchor the entire production. Jasna Đuričić has more than proven herself as one of the most gifted actors working in Europe, and while most will recognize her for the groundbreaking work she did in the excellent Quo Vadis Aida?, this film offers a very different kind of performance, one in which the veteran actor has to toggle the very narrow boundary between good and evil, taking on the role of a woman who occupies two radically different positions, namely a passionate and vocal politician dedicated to spreading a particular message (one that is not necessarily all that encouraging in terms of peace), and then a mother who returns home to her family day after day, taking on the part of their caretaker and the person who helps them in their daily endeavours. It’s a tricky performance, but Đuričić is entirely up to the task, and she is more than capable of bringing the various sides of this character to life with such incredible authenticity. She is joined by Jovan Ginić, who is the breakout star of the film, playing the part of Stefan, the young man whose journey is documented throughout the film. Considering how deep and complex this performance is, it may be surprising that this is the very first time that he had ever acted, which is impressive considering the emotional inventory he is working with, as well as the skillfulness he demonstrates, which suggests that we have a performer who is just naturally talented. So much of Lost Country is built on these performances, and both actors deliver such standout performances, grounding the story and giving it a sense of authenticity, the kind that can only come from truly gifted actors willing to go to any lengths to develop their characters.

It arguably takes some time for Lost Country to find its footing, and it can sometimes veer towards slightly too much ambiguity at the start, The tonal shifts between the political portions and the scenes set within the domestic lives of these characters can be quite jarring and not entirely cohesive. However, this is a work of impeccable virtue and astonishing honesty, a fascinating drama that not only provides a thorough and meaningful glimpse into Serbia’s storied past but also offers a meaningful exploration of family, showing the unbreakable bond between a mother and her son, which is put to the test when they find themselves on opposing ends of the political spectrum, at a time when this was a dangerous situation for anyone, especially those who are in the public eye. Beautifully made, and a film that finds virtue in simplicity, Lost Country is a wonderful achievement, a complex and compelling work of incredible virtue by a director who is slowly growing to become one of the most exciting voices in regional cinema. Detailed and compelling, and always intriguing, we find ourselves easily getting lost in the world of this film, aided by the extraordinary performances, strong writing and masterful direction, which all come together to form this striking and deeply moving story of political unease and the challenges that come when someone is trying to make sense of the world, but find themselves hopelessly lost within it, trying desperately to find some meaning in the madness, which is often easier said than done, something that we find forms the foundation of this challenging but exceptional coming-of-age drama that dares to look at life from numerous different angles, finding the truth and complexity within every one.