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GOEAST 2025

Želimir Žilnik • Director of Eighty Plus

“I want to show people with dignity – neither victims nor heroes, just human beings trying to live with integrity”

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- The Serbian director discusses his deep suspicion of ideologies in relation to his irresistibly charming latest feature, which follows a man whose life spans three political systems

Želimir Žilnik • Director of Eighty Plus
(© Peter Roesler)

After presenting Eighty Plus [+see also:
film review
interview: Želimir Žilnik
film profile
]
in the Berlinale Forum, Želimir Žilnik travelled to the goEast Film Festival, where the film is screening in the Competition section. He shares insights into the scriptwriting and filmmaking process, discusses the casting of the non-professional lead actor, and reflects on the current means of censorship and the broader philosophy behind his work.

Cineuropa: The life of Eighty Plus’s protagonist spans three different political systems. And, like in your previous films, you seem to be critical of all of them while always maintaining a sense of humour. Can we say that you are politically neutral?
Želimir Žilnik:
From the very beginning of my professional filmmaking career, the air around me has been charged with ideologies. Yugoslavia at the time was socialist but not fully aligned with the Soviet Union. That split opened up our cultural and social life in ways that were unique for the Eastern Bloc. But even though the atmosphere allowed for critique, there was still pressure from the authorities. Although my short films were very well received in general, back home, I was sometimes accused of being anti-communist, and after a few years of that pressure, I had to leave Yugoslavia. But in West Germany, I also faced censorship. One of my shorts about the so-called Gastarbeiters was stopped by the German authorities. They accused me of showing sympathy for the Baader-Meinhof Group, which wasn’t true. I told them I just used excerpts from German newspapers. I didn’t invent anything.

So, we can see that censorship exists in different forms across all systems. That’s why I’m not just critical; I’m also suspicious. There’s ideology, and then there’s practice. I’ve experienced that contrast directly.

And in this post-communist system, do you see other forms of control?
Yes, particularly through film funding. In small countries like Serbia, where the state plays a crucial role in financing, filmmakers face a different kind of pressure. It’s often extremely difficult to get state funding. With my wife and producer Sarita, for years, we’ve made films only thanks to co-productions or private help from friends. That’s the reality. For Eighty Plus, for example, we submitted the project to Film Center Serbia but waited two or three years without an answer. In the meantime, we began developing the script and got a Slovenian co-producer, which allowed us to move forward. Without the Slovenians, the film would never have happened. Shooting began in May, but the summer was very hot, so we paused several times and wrapped in September. That extra time actually helped us shoot more thoughtfully.

Your protagonist in Eighty Plus also lived in Germany – does his story contain elements of your own?
Not really – his biography is quite different from mine. We deliberately moved away from typical narratives of social struggle and instead focused on someone who had lived a respected, comfortable life under socialism. The idea for the nearly 90-year-old protagonist came from real stories of Yugoslav musicians who worked in Western Europe in the 1950s. One man’s reflective, regret-free attitude inspired us. Only a small part of the character’s memories and dialogue come from the actor’s real life; the rest, including the house and the restitution subplot, is fictional.

You co-wrote the script with Tanja Šljivar, who did a great job on Celts [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Milica Tomovic
film profile
]
. She belongs to a much younger generation – what was her contribution?
Tanja brought an insight into how younger people today see history and family – especially their reactions to the old man reclaiming the house. She shaped the children’s and grandchildren’s characters. I focused on the protagonist, who is from my generation. I’m 83, and I wanted to portray someone who is at peace with life. The film centres almost entirely on him.

Lead actor Milan Kovačević is not a professional, right?
No, he is a musician, like his character. My assistant saw him in a short student film. I watched it and found him very charismatic. When we met, he told us acting was always a dream of his. He was shy at first, but once we started testing, he delivered from beginning to end without any mistakes. His friend in the film is also a non-professional, but the rest of the cast are experienced actors.

The dialogue feels very real. Was there any room for improvisation?
None, actually. Everything was written. But we write our dialogue to sound like ordinary speech. Milan was quick and precise. He added two beautiful lines, one of which gave the film its title: when he names his old band “Eighty Plus”.

Despite your difficult childhood, your films are full of joyfulness and humour. Where does that levity come from?
Perhaps from my youth in the 1950s. The country was poor and recovering from war, but cinema was our escape. It showed us the world. I’ve always believed that film is not just storytelling; it’s life in motion. I try to create a relaxed environment where the actors feel free. That gives the film its energy.

Also, I want to show people with dignity – neither victims nor heroes, just human beings trying to live with integrity. Eighty Plus is about dignity, too. I honestly didn’t expect it to resonate so widely. I thought it was a quiet, almost museum-like film. But people connect with the character. It’s not just about a house; it’s about accepting life, time and family.

What from the past do you think is most important to preserve – emotionally or ethically?
People now often speak about the past with hatred – even those who prospered under it. I don’t get that. If you ask me when I felt most free, it was during the Black Wave period in the late 1960s and early 1970s. There was openness and courage, even under pressure. Later, in the 1990s, I joined the protests against Milošević and made several documentaries about them. That period shaped me, too.

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