“The themes may be familiar, but there is still poignancy in how this film explores them.”

A name is a gift. The majority of us are privileged enough not to realize this since we don’t find ourselves in situations where we have to fight for the right to be recognized by something as simple as the name that appears on a document. In the final moments of Dwelling Among the Gods, director Vuk Ršumović acknowledges how over the past three decades, more than fifty thousand migrants have died while attempting to make their way to Europe to seek a better life, and an overwhelming majority were buried as paupers, leaving this world without the dignity of even a name associated with them upon their passing. This film follows the efforts of a young woman who travels from her home in war-torn Afghanistan to Serbia, where her brother was headed a while before. His last communication roughly correlates with the drowning of an Afghani man in a river in Belgrade, which leads the protagonist to suspect that her brother was the person who suffered this fate. Not only is she horrified to discover this is the case, but she also realizes the difficulties that come with ensuring that he is given a proper funeral since even the simple act of allowing him to be buried with his own name, rather than just as a John Doe (let alone allowing his remains to be returned to his country of origin), presents considerable challenges, far greater than an individual can ever hope to overcome. In a simple drama about the resilience of the human spirit and the challenges of living in a world driven apart by divisions, Ršumović (a previously prolific writer) makes his sophomore feature directorial effort, crafting an effective film about very real issues, albeit one that may not always reach its target despite its best intentions.

In terms of thematic content, Dwelling Among the Gods evokes familiar ideas, looking at concepts that we find in several contemporary works that tackle the rise of the immigrant experience and what many migrants have to endure as they flee third-world countries in an effort to find better lives elsewhere. The film attempts to evoke the feeling of being lost in a foreign country where even the most basic communication is impossible, by filtering the story through the perspective of a young woman whose steadfast commitment to going against the system is admirable, even when it yields very few results. For the main character, her experience in Serbia is not pleasant – she is not given the hospitality of a tourist nor the sympathy of a refugee, and instead has to exist somewhere in between, falling through the cracks in the same way as many of her fellow migrants who seek out a better life, but rarely find it due to the challenges involved in the process. Ršumović uses this character as a vessel to find the elusive answers to impossible questions that define the migrant experience, showing her various challenges in navigating the endless bureaucratic red tape of a system that is hopelessly broken. Some would argue a system that is intentionally designed to make these processes impossible to understand, creating division and eventually leading to further discord and frustration, two of the most frequent components that define the experience of migrants who attempt to find a home in these supposed European sanctuaries.

It proves to be a revealing exercise in social realist filmmaking, given the manner in which the director constructs this film. However, there are a few components at the heart of Dwelling Among the Gods that feel somewhat lacking – primarily, it becomes too didactic to be entirely compelling as a cultural document or social statement, contributing only marginal observations on the immigrant experience. Ršumović is clearly a compassionate filmmaker who feels a great deal of empathy towards his characters, but the film seems slightly too impersonal, in the capacity that it always feels like we are watching an outsider tell this story; the distance between the storyteller and the narrative is far too great to ever offer the insights that would typically be given by someone with firsthand knowledge of the plight of refugees. Not to say that this is not his story to tell, but there is a slight lack of cohesion between concept and execution that keeps this film from succeeding in realizing all of its very good intentions. However, these shortcomings are contrasted with the beautiful and soulful performance delivered by Fereshteh Hosseini, who lends the film a degree of gravitas that it requires, turning in a strong portrayal of this willful, dedicated woman who is firm in her desire to see justice, even if it means simply seeing her brother buried with the same name he was given at birth. Something she views as not only a victory for her family but a fundamental right for immigrants across the globe, fighting until honour is restored to one of the many people viewed as a nameless casualty of an ongoing global crisis.  It’s a performance that anchors this film and connects some of the more disjointed narrative elements.

Dwelling Among the Gods is an admirable film, even when its simplicity is sometimes not as beneficial to the narrative as one would expect. The unfurnished, direct style of filmmaking makes its intentions clear and leaves very little room for ambiguity, which allows the audience to connect more closely with the characters. There are also tender moments peppered between the intensity, allowing momentary pauses from the constant tension, which proves that the director was aware of the need to infuse this kind of story with layers rather than just a constant stream of catastrophes and anxiety-inducing sequences as the protagonist attempts to navigate the European bureaucracy. Beyond a mere deconstruction of the unwieldy and unnecessarily dense nature of the government and how it sometimes seems to be working against the best interests of the people it claims to be assisting, Dwelling Among the Gods is a film about finding the strength and resilience to move forward. It is ultimately the story of a young woman grieving the loss of her brother and fleeing her homeland, both of which lead to a state of extreme anguish, which is only exacerbated by the administrative roadblocks she faces when trying to accomplish something as simple as ensuring her brother is paid the most basic respect of being buried under his own name. The themes may be familiar, but there is still poignancy in how this film explores them. Whether in the cathartic, primal scream of trauma and frustration that the protagonist lets out while overlooking the city that has presented her with nothing but obstacles, or the tender, melancholic melody she sings to her brother at his funeral, this is a film that carries an immense importance in investigating the immigrant experience, providing important glimpses into an ongoing humanitarian crisis.