The Wound 2017

As the opening credits roll, it’s clear that Rane is a film deeply rooted in its dedication to those born after Tito’s passing. The story unfolds through the eyes of two young boys, Pinki (born on May 4, 1980 - the day Yugoslav president Josip Broz Tito breathed his last) and Švaba, as they navigate their childhood and early adolescence amidst the turbulent backdrop of the Yugoslav Wars (1991-1995). For Pinki, whose name is a testament to his father’s idealism and devotion to Titoist communism, life is marked by the echoes of his parent’s fervent patriotism. His father, Stojan Mučibabić, an officer in the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA), had initially considered naming his son after the legendary leader himself, but a quick thinking at the registry office saw them settle on Pinki instead.

Švaba, meanwhile, is raised by his grandmother, a Croatian Serb who fled her homeland during World War II amidst the atrocities perpetrated by the Ustaše. Theirs is a friendship forged in the fires of youth, with Pinki exhibiting a thoughtful and articulate nature, while Švaba’s moodiness and propensity for anger outbursts often leave him struggling to contain his emotions.

The trio’s social circle revolves around their apartment block in New Belgrade’s Paviljoni neighbourhood. Dijabola, an eager and bespectacled outsider with a single mother who is a well-known television personality, finds himself perpetually on the periphery of Pinki and Švaba’s world. Despite his best efforts to join in, he’s often subjected to their ridicule and roughhousing, which occasionally descends into physical violence.

As the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that these young protagonists are grappling with the complexities of identity, loyalty, and belonging in a society torn apart by conflict. Through their experiences, Rane offers a poignant exploration of the human condition, shedding light on the resilience of childhood innocence amidst the chaos of war-torn Yugoslavia.

As the scorching summer of 1991 gives way to the uncertainty of war, a sense of restlessness settles over the children. The sound of Serbian troops, both regular JNA forces and volunteer militias, echoes through the streets as they march off to battle in neighboring Croatia, where the brutal siege of Vukovar is raging. Meanwhile, Pinki’s father Stojan finds himself consumed by frustration, forced into early retirement by the JNA and denied the opportunity to join the conflict. His days are spent glued to the television set, mesmerized by the news reports from Vukovar and cheering on the JNA with a fervor that borders on fanaticism. As his nationalism grows more pronounced, so too do his petty quarrels with neighbors and outbursts of venomous rhetoric, as if he’s become a human embodiment of Slobodan Milošević’s ideology.

In this atmosphere of tension and uncertainty, Pinki, still struggling to come to terms with the world around him, finds solace in his own private rituals. The compulsive masturbation that has become a staple of his daily routine is often accompanied by fantasies of Lidija, their neighbor across the street. Little does he know, however, that the war outside will soon spill into his quiet world.

As the years pass and the conflict spreads from Croatia to Bosnia, Pinki, Švaba, and Dijabola enter the tumultuous landscape of early adolescence. It is a time marked by fascination with the unknown, a desire for excitement and adventure. For these young friends, that excitement comes in the form of Kure, their enigmatic neighbor across the street, who drives a sleek car, makes regular excursions to Germany, and dates a sultry kafana singer. They are enthralled by his swagger and lifestyle, and their eyes light up with wonder when he invites them to help unload his car, filled to the brim with goods brought back from Germany. Although Dijabola is initially left behind, Švaba’s suggestion that Pinki join in as well proves a stroke of genius, as the three friends find themselves drawn into Kure’s world of adventure and excitement.

In the turbulent landscape of an ex-communist community still reeling from the aftershocks of war and sanctions, two young friends, Pinki and Švaba, plunge headfirst into a world of crime at the tender age of fourteen. Their initiation into this realm is not unlike a surreal drama, with the TV show Puls Asfalta (Pulse of the Asphalt) serving as their muse. The infamous Belgrade gangsters featured on the program become their idols, and they set out to emulate their criminal exploits in the hopes of gaining recognition from the producers. As they rise through the ranks of crime and drug dealing, their friendship is tested by mutual infatuation with Lidija, leading to a violent confrontation that leaves Švaba gravely injured, his body riddled with five bullets, mirroring the wounds inflicted upon Jesus two thousand years ago.

Pinki’s remarkable survival and subsequent escape from the hospital prompt him to seek out Švaba, determined to make amends. However, their reconciliation is marred by an ancient code of conduct that demands Pinki inflict identical wounds on his friend, a twisted ritual aimed at restoring their fractured bond. As Pinki exacts revenge, he pauses momentarily before delivering the final blow, as if considering the humanity in Švaba’s suffering. Their fragile truce is shattered when Dijabola, consumed by grief and rage over the murder of his mother, bursts onto the scene, targeting Švaba with a barrage of bullets.

The ensuing shootout claims the lives of both Švaba and Dijabola, leaving Pinki wounded and helpless on the ground. In a moment of dark humor, he taunts the audience by declaring that he has “come out on top,” his words dripping with a morbid satisfaction born from the chaos and destruction that surrounds him.