SYDNEY UNDERGROUND FILM FESTIVAL: Preceded by a dark reputation akin to that of Caligula (1979) or Salo (1975) Srdjan Spasojevic’s highly controversial A Serbian Film has finally arrived in Australia on DVD. And it certainly offers several unexpected surprises: some good acting, locales and set design that suggests a decent budget, and some stellar cinematography. As for the gut-wrenching, immoral shocker that we were led to believe would bring about the downfall of modern civilisation... well, it’s pretty flaccid.
Ageing porn star Milos (Srdjan Todorovic) is coaxed out of retirement, reluctantly, to take on the lead role in a new 'underground’ production from the stable of fetish king Vukmir (a scenery-chewing Sergej Trifunovic). Much to Milos’ displeasure, he is shocked out of his laidback scotch-before-lunch routine and thrust into the world of the 'new pornography’ – handheld cameras, first-person points-of-view of pain, humiliation and forced acts of violation.
These scenes break down the 'fourth wall’ that provides a level of detachment for patrons of pornography. The sequences are effective horror filmmaking, but they also capture familiar hardcore iconography; it makes for a disconcerting blend of that which repulses and stimulates audiences of both genres.
Eventually, Milos wants out, but Vukmir will not have his insane vision compromised. ('Love, art, blood. Flesh and soul of a victim!" he bellows at one point.) From the start of the third act, Spasojevic’s intent on serving up pure 'evil’ decadence is apparent; in the final 20 minutes we are party to a drug-induced, warehouse-set orgy of revenge-themed sexualised violence. But soon, scenes that should provide unparalleled malevolence play as camp and rather silly; the film descends into laugh-out-loud nuttiness when one bad guy is killed by a lethal erection.
Of course, there are still grotesquely discomfiting sequences; it goes to horribly dark places that anyone familiar with the extreme-horror genre will find confronting: children placed in nightmarish psycho-sexual set-ups; rape; necrophilia; and overtly-staged 'snuff’ moviemaking. For those seeking some meaning behind the scenes of crude exploitation, the filmmakers claim it is a metaphor of Serbia’s decades of experience with brutality. In that light, the horrors portrayed are an effective tool for commentary (even satire), but they are gruelling to endure.
Ironically, a film that salivates over the abuse of the victim has ultimately become one; the Australian release of A Serbian Film has had a full three minutes of OFLC-sanctioned excisions. 'No scenes in full have been cut but there were certain moments or frames within a few scenes we had to cut," was local distributor Accent’s comically understated explanation of the edits, choosing to ignore the fact that the film’s most notorious scene is all but missing. Had the three minutes been left in, this repugnant genre may have been all but played out – it would be hard to envision a project that would have dared to outdo such ultra-nihilistic torture-porn.
In being released minus its most extreme images, A Serbian Film is effectively a castrated version of itself, and one wonders whether the actions of the censors might inadvertently extend the lifespan of the genre, with the gaps left in Srdjan Spasojevic film to be filled by some 'who-knows-what’ horrific vision yet to come.
