The sophomore feature by Croatian filmmaker Ivan Salaj, Women, Loonies and a Few Good Gays, is dedicated to, and based on, the life, poetry, prose and, mainly, the titular autobiographical novel of late writer, journalist, dramaturgist and occasional actor Robert Roklicer (1970-2018). The fact that it entered domestic distribution (on 9 October, courtesy of Plavi mjesec) without a festival premiere seems reasonable, since Roklicer’s unique character that he showcases as his literary alter-ego is not that easy to translate to environments outside the region of the former Yugoslavia or the time frame of the war-torn 1990s and transitional early noughties. Think of a Croatian version of Charles Bukowski, with war-induced PTSD as an added bonus.

Robert (Filip Detelić, mostly active on television) spends his days scheming how to get drunk, either alone or with his buddies Marin (Frano Mašković), Nino (Franjo Dijak), Darko (Janko Popović Volarić) and Marković (Živko Anočić), who all seem only a tad more functional than him, as well as how to get laid. Every woman is fair game for him: a waitress from his local, Anita (Ana Maras Harmander), her teenage daughter Megi (Dora Dimić Rakar, the real revelation of the film), his former colleague’s daughter Dana (Sanja Milardović) and even Marin’s much younger wife Ines (Romina Tonković). We follow him over the course of a few days, during which time he manages to get fired from his weekly magazine, get hired as a scriptwriter for a cop series, contract pubic lice (which he tries to treat with insecticide, only to make things worse), get burned and maybe infected with hepatitis B, become a father and a godfather, and get entangled in numerous love triangles fuelled by jealousy – all without ever getting sober.

Robert has such low ethical standards that he could be written off as a despicable human being, with only his talent, creativity and – when he gets inspired – productivity as his saving graces. He is the type of man who likes stirring trouble and who mistakes a lack of tact for honesty. His friends are not much better than him (hence the “loonies” from the title), the women he gets involved with are either desperate or have an agenda of their own, and the few good gays are... closeted. One might wonder why viewers would want to spend almost two hours of their lives in such awful company, other than out of pure curiosity to see Robert getting into trouble and clawing his way out of it.

The thing is that the film pretty accurately captures the spirit of Roklicer’s body of work, which, on the other hand, paints a naturalistic, raw picture of the (post-)transition reality in Croatia, specifically where the trauma of war met the social injustice that ensued. The performances by the carefully picked ensemble go deep beyond the surface of the characters, while the technical qualities are also top-notch. Alen and Nenad Sinkauz’s original score combines drums-heavy jazz with electronic drones to set the manic, delirious atmosphere, while Slobodan Trninić’s hand-held cinematography adds to the sense of rawness and Tomislav Pavlic’s editing keeps the pace up so that the movie does not fizzle out after the exposition.

However, the literary origins of Women, Loonies and a Few Good Gays can be sensed easily and may even pose a problem, especially since Salaj often relies on the unsubtle tool of voice-over narration to paint the protagonist’s distorted stream of consciousness and surprisingly clear-eyed observations. Nevertheless, Women, Loonies and a Few Good Gays’ rawness, dirtiness and complete disregard for political correctness are quite new and refreshing in the realm of Croatian cinema.

Women, Loonies and a Few Good Gays is a Croatian production by Plavi mjesec.