Now in his eighties, iconic Serbian director Želimir Žilnik stays true to his dedication to addressing social injustices and to his guerilla filmmaking style. Since his 1969 Berlinale Golden Bear winner, Early Works, he has made over 50 feature-length and short films that all display an affection for the common man, and particularly people from the margins. Such a film, Marble Ass, perhaps the first truly queer Serbian feature, garnered him the Teddy Award in 1995. Now, he is back where he started his international career, with Eighty Plus, screening in the Berlinale Forum.

Many of Žilnik’s trademarks are present: an emigrant hero, a fictionalised narrative (co-written with Tanja Šljivar) played out by mostly non-professional actors, a documentary-style visual and editing approach, and a cross-generational story that uncovers unexpected historical layers. Žilnik is in a gentler mood now, but his critical blade is unsheathed at just the right moments.

Our hero is elderly jazz pianist Stevan (professional jazz musician Milan Kovačević), who returns from Germany to Serbia – or, more precisely, its northern province of Vojvodina – as he receives news that his old family house and estate, which were nationalised by the Yugoslav communist government after World War II, can now be returned to him through the process of restitution. So, he heads home, accompanied by an Austrian friend’s daughter, Nina (Katharina Gualtieri), who is doing a PhD on the position of women in communist and post-communist countries.

The house is a truly stately manor surrounded by typical Vojvodinian fertile fields and orchards. It is now decrepit, but as Stevan, Nina and his old friend Milan go through the huge building, the quality of the craftsmanship inside is stunning. Nina later discovers it was built in 1903 by a German count. This is news to Stevan, whose family fled Vojvodina as the Nazis gave the region away to the puppet Independent State of Croatia.

Stevan’s own family – his ex-wife, daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter with a husband and three kids – are all around, wondering about their rights as potential heirs. The son-in-law (Radoje Čupić), who faked Stevan’s death certificate so his businessman pal could get a piece of the land, is particularly aggressive. But Stevan is a kind, gentle man and takes everything with a smile on his face, just as he brings his old pals in for a jam session.

But the property issue is not the point – this is not how a Žilnik film works. Instead, memories and anecdotes of the past, as well as Nina’s research, serve as a rich historical tapestry in which each generation and government in the past 125 years have worked to undo their predecessors’ systems and achievements. From the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the current exploitative excuse for a democracy that Serbia is, common people have suffered, and Stevan learns that his own ancestors were an aristocracy of sorts, oppressing the peasants.

On a personal level, the film gently probes difficult family relations. These are sometimes directly talked about and at other times just implied, but there is an unmistakeable nostalgia that permeates the proceedings. The raw, non-professional performances and the documentary style might be an acquired taste for audiences new to Žilnik, but the emotions are pure and impossible to misjudge. They are supported by several live musical numbers and a lovely, melancholy original score by Dragoljub Vagner.

Eighty Plus is a co-production between Serbia's Playground Produkcija and Žilnik Produkcija, and Slovenia's Tramal Films and Staragara. The international sales are handled by US-based EXPOBLVD.