Milanka Gvoić

On January 4th 1890, political activist Jaša Tomić murders Miša Dimitrijević, a reporter for the newspaper The Wall (Branik), for publicaly shaming his wife Milica several days prior, recieving a seven year long sentence in the process. Outraged, ashamed and marginalized, Milica, along with her newspaper The Flag (Zastava), decides to clear her name by improving the status and lives of women in the Austro-Hungarian regions of Vojvodina and Banat.

Kristina is a transgender sex worker in Serbia. She plays herself in an eponymous film that portrays her daily life with reticence in accordance with the rules of fiction. We’re in Kristina’s home with her. With camp elegance, she contentedly arranges ikebana in the luxuriant, baroque shade of her garden. The surprisingly shrill ringtone of her telephone disrupts the idyllic scene and Kristina reels off the prices of her services to the caller. Tracing an inner journey in the secret calm of churches and forests, the film also opens up a space of confession in its core, in frontal shots where Kristina tells her story. It does not, however, follow the path of repentance. On the contrary, it asserts the profound freedom of a modern woman, captured majestically in a bold portrait with strokes inspired by iconostases that tend towards the divine.

A self-taught Roma musician from a village called Beska in Serbia, Dragan Petrovic, together with his three underage sons founded a band, not only to make a living out of it, but to, first and foremost, keep his family together.On the way to their dreams, from playing by ear to reading music, this unusual ensemble will have to overcome many obstacles of life, and the oldest son, Radovan, will have the hardest task - he will have to leave his village, enroll at the music school in a big city and share his knowledge with his younger brothers, so that one day, all three of them could become professional musicians.

On January 4th 1890, political activist Jaša Tomić murders Miša Dimitrijević, a reporter for the newspaper The Wall (Branik), for publicaly shaming his wife Milica several days prior, recieving a seven year long sentence in the process. Outraged, ashamed and marginalized, Milica, along with her newspaper The Flag (Zastava), decides to clear her name by improving the status and lives of women in the Austro-Hungarian regions of Vojvodina and Banat.

Kristina is a transgender sex worker in Serbia. She plays herself in an eponymous film that portrays her daily life with reticence in accordance with the rules of fiction. We’re in Kristina’s home with her. With camp elegance, she contentedly arranges ikebana in the luxuriant, baroque shade of her garden. The surprisingly shrill ringtone of her telephone disrupts the idyllic scene and Kristina reels off the prices of her services to the caller. Tracing an inner journey in the secret calm of churches and forests, the film also opens up a space of confession in its core, in frontal shots where Kristina tells her story. It does not, however, follow the path of repentance. On the contrary, it asserts the profound freedom of a modern woman, captured majestically in a bold portrait with strokes inspired by iconostases that tend towards the divine.

A self-taught Roma musician from a village called Beska in Serbia, Dragan Petrovic, together with his three underage sons founded a band, not only to make a living out of it, but to, first and foremost, keep his family together.On the way to their dreams, from playing by ear to reading music, this unusual ensemble will have to overcome many obstacles of life, and the oldest son, Radovan, will have the hardest task - he will have to leave his village, enroll at the music school in a big city and share his knowledge with his younger brothers, so that one day, all three of them could become professional musicians.