Director: Danilo Stanimirović
Writer: Danilo Stanimirović & Irena Parezanović
Cast: Dostana Nikolić, Nebojša Stanimirović
Running time: 15mins
Film festivals cost a lot of money – and so they often struggle to break even, let alone make a profit. With submission fees often posing as the only dependable source of revenue that many festivals have access to, that can make granting waivers difficult. Sadly, this means filmmakers who already struggle to have their voices heard end up even further marginalised.
Stories told by artists from low-income backgrounds, opposition groups hit by censorship, or individuals in nations subjected to international sanctions still need a platform, though. That’s why Indy Film Library’s Saturday Matinees series has returned for a fourth season.
Over the current run of matinees, IFL is showcasing work from places where monetary and legal constraints have prevented the free communication of political and social issues.
The penultimate film in our free-to-view programme comes from Serbian filmmaker Danilo Stanimirović. 5/3/0 is a deeply disturbing short, charting the predation of an underage girl – both by men she fears, and those she trusts.
On the long, uncomfortable taxi-ride to her friend’s birthday party, Saška (Dostana Nikolić who tragically passed away from leukaemia after shooting, and was on the face of this performance a tremendous talent) is relentlessly grilled by her cab-driver (Nebojša Stanimirović). Amid innocuous-seeming questions about where she is going, more leading questions about who she will be with when she travels home, and at what time, will turn viewers’ blood cold – with the actor managing to deliver his lines in a way that could be excused as benevolent, but never fully disguise a skin crawling intent.
Upon arrival, Saška enjoys the initially cosy party, until her boyfriend invites her to join him in a room upstairs, away from the noise of the other revellers. It is there that an intensely upsetting scene unfolds, which culminates in her hastily exiting the party altogether.
Importantly, though, Nikolić’s performance is the standout here – and helping to distinguish it from a more exploitative brand of ‘horror’, where audiences are invited to scream ‘what are you doing?’ at a doomed character. Instead, her measured and tragic performance shows how, with the odds stacked against them, many girls and women are relentlessly broken down by the way they are treated – a point underscored by the breathtaking cinematography of Luka Mihailović and the camera of Aleksa Borković, which largely either show Saška surrounded by unfamiliar and lecherous adults, or as an isolated and vulnerable figure, flanked only by the trees at the side of a remote road after dark.
The shift in Saška’s self-belief brought about amid this suffocating atmosphere is clear from her first and last moments on screen. In her initial exchange with the driver, where he firmly suggests she sit next to him, she bristles with indignance, and refuses. The duality of Nikolić’s delivery is crucial when, on her fateful return journey, her character takes the front-seat. In the wake of what has already happened at the hands of another man she previously felt safe with, a sad expression of tired resignation spreads across her face as she moves to the front in silence. As the road begins to move past the camera, still focused on her vacated back-seat, the imagery fades to black.
As the credits play in silence, it might feel like this conclusion is ambiguous – even if we have our disheartening suspicions about it. But a final move by Stanimirović and co-writer Irena Parezanović robs us of any space to kid ourselves about that, to dodge the horrific realities of this story amid the vaguery of maybes. The last thing we see in the credits, is the phrase, “based on true events”. The inspiration for telling this story comes from something which really happened to a friend of the filmmakers.
According to the Balkan Investigative Reporting Network, Serbia – like much of the world – is failing to protect the survivors of sexual assault, making this a particularly important story to tell. A BIRN investigation of five years of data found that in half of rape convictions, the perpetrators were released in five years or less, five years being the minimum sentence under the law since 2017. At the same time, survivors have to deal with social shame and a lack of after-care.
Telling a story like this – a sadly all-too-familiar tale – with a particular emphasis on the perspective of women like the character of Saška, is very important in this context. Perhaps the film falls a little short, in that it does not follow this up with some meaningful call to action for viewers – but at least it may help start a few conversations about what is to be done.
The film will be available to view for free in full from 09:00 UK time on Saturday the 10th of February, until the end of the weekend, via our Saturday Matinees theatre page. Viewers will also be invited to rate the film out of five, to help determine the winner of this Saturday Matinees season.
As the film is still trying to gain access to other festivals, the page is password protected. Use the code IFLMATINEE2324 to access the film.
Stay tuned for our final film next week!