“Those who build the space do not have the right to live there, and the one who has the right to live there cannot find any sign of life. The core political and philosophical stance of the film lies right between these two extremes.”
Sometimes in life, we just want to take a break. Despite our hopes, that break might never come. Or even if it does, it might not be the kind of escape we were waiting for. We don’t always know what we would do with that time anyway. Maybe we would just sleep deeply and comfortably, or maybe simply run away from everything. It might never actually happen, yet the mind still longs to escape — from all the busyness, the exhaustion, the rush of life.
We have seen the visual expression of these collective feelings before. We saw it through the eyes of Ivan Marković — who worked as a cinematographer for contemporary masters like Angela Schanelec and Dane Komljen, capturing the poetic light in films like Music, Desire Lines, or Wondrous Is the Silence of My Master. But now Marković himself is in the 2026 Cannes Film Festival’s ACID section with his debut feature film Promised Spaces. Here, Marković uses a hypnotic visual language to capture the global social inequality hidden behind the glamour of Cambodian real estate and luxury housing.
The film does not rely on a traditional plot or loud dramatic conflicts. Instead, it is a quiet collage of two parallel realities. On one side, we see a group of non-professional construction workers who build Cambodia’s towering luxury housing projects. Yet, at the end of the day, their own living space is cramped inside the unfinished, skeletal concrete structures they are building. On the other side is Seda, a woman who is one of the very first residents of the modern, gated luxury complex. But within this massive, artificial, and deserted emptiness, she finds herself trapped in deep loneliness. Those who build the space do not have the right to live there, and the one who has the right to live there cannot find any sign of life. The core political and philosophical stance of the film lies right between these two extremes.
There is no need to praise Ivan Marković’s eye for cinematography; his talent speaks for itself. Together with co-cinematographer Katharina Hauke he creates a visual texture that immerses the audience in a form of meditation. Embracing the style of slow cinema, Marković takes his time. Through static, geometric, and long takes, he focuses on vast empty spaces, landscapes, and the human body. The way social inequality is portrayed — not through heavy dialogue, but simply through the contrast between the massive, monstrous architecture and the tiny human figures — is truly remarkable.
Dialogue is barely used in this film. Tanja Šljivar’s screenplay prioritizes the characters’ silence over their words. The true language of the film is hidden in its soundscape. The metallic noise of construction work, the distant hum of the city, and the ghostly silence inside the luxury apartment create a sharp contrast that makes the film’s meditative mood even more intense.
Promised Spaces is not just a typical critique of urbanization. It raises a very fundamental question: what is a ‘home’? Is it merely a piece of secure real estate defined by capitalism, or is it a space for human soul connection and sharing? The advertisements for these Promised Spaces sell an illusion of happiness. Through these luxury housings in Cambodia, the director shows how modern architecture actually creates more isolation and social segregation among us. Both the workers and the wealthy residents are victims of this system — one physically, the other psychologically.
Through Promised Spaces, Ivan Marković introduces us to another world — a world where we listen closely to every sound, and where we sit and think about a calm, peaceful life. These elements captivate the audience so deeply that even after the film ends, the images painted through Ivan Marković’s eyes stay with you for a very long time.