In his sophomore feature after Consequences (world-premiered in Toronto’s Discovery section), Slovenian filmmaker Darko Štante once again draws upon his sociological background to explore complex social constellations and the confines of masculinity. The Lost Son premiered as an open-air screening at this year’s Sarajevo Film Festival and was recently shown at the Festival of Slovenian Film in Portorož, where it won the Vesna Awards for Best Director (Štante) and Best Production Design (Miha Knific).

In The Lost Son, Andrej (Jure Henigman), a police detective, becomes acutely aware of his own passive acceptance of patriarchal violence after encountering his estranged brother Kristian (Nejc Cijan Garlatti) and his brother’s son David (Liam Benjamin Štante). As he furthers his relationship with Anna (Lara Maria Vouk), his girlfriend of five years, and investigates the case of a rebellious teenage boy named Žan (Svit Šturbej) who is abused by his father (Goran Bogdan), he begins to unravel his dual role, both participatory and interventionist, in his personal generational trauma. Štante depicts different formations – from father to son, between brothers, etc. – within the replication of violence, even amongst those who are the victims of said violence.

The Lost Son is measured and never too revealing; the filmmaker leaves much of the physical and emotional violence behind closed doors, which is where it is often found –or perhaps, left hidden. Thus, it is up to the viewer to imagine the extremes it can lead to, but to the filmmaker’s credit, their notion of what these are becomes very dark quite quickly, without much effort or overexplanation. Shadows constantly linger here, including over the film’s more tender moments, such as sweet interactions with a kitten or a child eating an ice cream cone.

Without dipping into true melodrama, the writer-director balances Andrej’s personal journey of personal responsibility with a broader exploration of just how easy it is to perpetuate cycles of patriarchal trauma. In this respect, it is of crucial importance that this story is told from Andrej’s perspective: he is someone we see as having a set of moral values – and he considers himself a good person, too –, but while Andrej has grown up to a be a well-disciplined cop, hanging out with Kristian leads him to be steeped in his brother’s careless and (self-)destructive habits, forcing him to face the fragile behavioural boundary that differentiates himself from his brother.

The filmmaker prefers to film the intense two-person conversations intervening throughout the story by having the camera orbit around the actors as they debate and argue, in long takes. This allows him to effectively create an inherent, naturalistic tenseness, while relying on the performances of his lead players. Štante manoeuvres between starkly gendered spaces so as to dig even deeper and show Andrej’s innate but passive respectfulness as no longer sufficient, in an environment threatened by violence. When he and Kristian are on their own, he is able to brush off the latter’s immature, misogynistic, homophobic and harmful behaviour as bro-ish, but in the presence of others, this dynamic feels like a literal and a metaphorical slap in the face, both in terms of Kristian’s actions and of Andrej’s acceptance of his brother’s ways.

While the narrative plateaus partway through, The Lost Son manages to regain steam in its last ten minutes with a cascade of events that tumble onto its tragic but moving ending. With a sharp final image reflecting the consequences of both his actions and his inaction, Andrej is confronted with the immutability of it all –and, hopefully, persuaded to do more about it than just playing the good guy.

The Lost Son was produced by Staragara (Slovenia), Graal S.A. (Greece), Propeler Film (Croatia), Staragara IT (Italy) and Kaval Films (North Macedonia).