20/03/2025 - Based on true events and Goran Paskaljević’s unfinished script, Sanja Živković’s second feature tells the story of a child’s abandonment and her grandfather’s struggle to keep her in the family

Profound explorations of human nature, encompassing all its brighter and bleaker aspects, is a common feature of Serbian master Goran Paskaljević’s cinema and can also be found in Sanja Živković’s second feature, Cat’s Cry, currently locking horns in the International Competition of the Sofia International Film Festival. The film, based on true events and Paskaljević’s unfinished script, carries his spirit of universal understanding of the sacred and the profane in people, despite the fact that he was not able to complete it himself. Two conflicts collide and converge into one, building a plot bearing a virtually biblical message: the story focuses on the generational gap between parents and children, which in modern times is growing ever faster and deeper; and on the clash of man versus system, always an unfair battle. However, when the individual ultimately triumphs over the soulless machine, a cathartic sense of humanism feels like it has been restored.

Straightforward and direct, the narrative sets up the conflict within the first ten minutes of the film. Young Milena (Andrijana Đorđević, authentically conveying anger and despair) gives birth to a baby girl, only to learn soon after that her newborn suffers from a rare genetic condition known as cri du chat (cat’s cry). Devastated and terrified by the diagnosis as well as the grim prognosis for her daughter, the young mother heeds her fear and decides to leave the child in the care of the state, while also preventing her adoption, mainly to keep her parents from taking custody of her. However, the grandfather Stamen (a basic but convincing performance by Jasmin Geljo), an ordinary man with traditional values, insists, “If this child is to die, it will die in my home.” From that moment on, neither Milena’s stubbornness nor the labyrinthine bureaucracy can stop him from fighting to take his granddaughter home, as he adheres to what he seems to consider God’s will.

Such a groundbreaking conflict between beliefs and existential comprehension provides an opportunity to reveal the inner worlds of both generations. Stamen and his wife, who lost a child in the past, have accepted their fate and managed to preserve their love despite everything – hence, they are now ready to face the challenge of taking care of their granddaughter, whatever the cost. Milena, on the other hand, is in a dysfunctional relationship with the baby’s father, who denies all responsibility – financial, emotional and paternal. Her only way of coping with the situation is to plug in her earphones and switch off from reality. Responsibility is not the strong suit of her age group, the fable seems to imply, and overprotection may very well be the reason for this: her self-sacrificing parents gave everything for their surviving child, and even the welfare system offers the option to escape one’s bleak fate and ignore issues instead of confronting them.

Despite Živković promising to remain faithful to Goran Paskaljević’s poetics (see the news), her directing style is closer to that of a TV drama, not only in the design of the mise-en-scène and camera movements, but also in her approach to the actors. However, even the scant creativity in the use of film language and the literal depiction of existential dilemmas do not detract from the story’s authentic dramatic power. The strength of Cat’s Cry lies in its compelling narrative, which, without moralising, conveys a tale about the power of unconditional love – one that enables a person capable of cultivating it to face unthinkable circumstances.

Cat’s Cry was produced by Serbia’s Nova Film, Croatia’s Artizana and Canada’s YN Films.