“A harrowing and difficult film about grief in which the director tackles intimidating subject matter in a manner that is heartfelt and delicate.”

Losing a child is seen as one of the most harrowing experiences and one that every parent fears, since it is rarely considered part of the natural order of life, if such a concept truly exists. Works of art that explore this specific subject tend to be challenging since it is one of the rare concepts that is singularly impossible to convey in terms of the sheer pain and anguish that accompanies it – yet, many have attempted to do so, whether as a way to work through their own losses or as an act of empathy to those who have experienced something this devastating. In her second directorial outing Mirjana Karanovic writes and directs Mother Mara, in which she takes loose inspiration from the experimental play We Are the Ones Our Parents Warned Us About by Tanja Šljivar, and tells the story of a woman who suddenly loses her son under mysterious circumstances – she would like to believe it was entirely the result of a heart condition that plagued him throughout his life. Gradually she begins to suspect that something else was at play, especially when she learns that her innocent young son was leading a much more complex life than she initially imagined, which she discovers through interacting with his friends and colleagues in the immediate aftermath of his passing. A harrowing and difficult story about grief in which the director tackles intimidating subject matter in a manner that is heartfelt and delicate, Mother Mara is a powerful film about the journey to accepting an unspeakable loss by working through the tormenting emotions and seeking solace in the outside world as one attempts to move forward. A seemingly impossible endeavour that requires the most steadfast of psychological determination.

Grief is not a subject that has been absent from the artistic consciousness – it has been the foundation of many works across generations. Many artists have attempted to grapple with the immeasurable emotions that come with loss, trying to filter their relationship with the mourning process into works of art that usually become some form of emotional catharsis. Mother Mara is yet another exploration of the subject that takes a decidedly somber, downbeat approach to investigating the aftermath of a loved one’s death – the opening moments take place at a funeral, and the subsequent scenes cover the days and weeks that follow, showing how the deceased’s mother (who, as a particularly ornery character remarks early on, has now been left entirely alone, as she is also a widow) navigates these challenges as she begins her journey on that elusive and uncertain path forward. The message at the heart of this film is very clear, and one we find in just about every narrative based around this subject – there isn’t any singular guidebook to grief and we all handle loss in our own way, which means that each journey is going to be wildly different. However, it is not as derivative in practice as it sounds, since Karanovic focuses on the concept of grief through distraction, whereby some choose to plunge themselves back into their normal life, perhaps prematurely and against the recommendations of those around them. The character of Mara discovers that there is a sanctuary in the banality of routine since it is through attempting to return to her life as it was before her son’s death that she finally begins the process of healing, taking those integral steps towards recovery.

This is a simple and delicate approach to a challenging subject, and it proves to be just as poignant in practice as we would expect.  Karanovic is invested in telling this story and leaving an impression, nurturing the film from its inception to its final stages. In addition to writing and directing the film, she also plays the titular character in one of the year’s most soul-stirring and heartbreaking performances. The film around her may be arguably quite simplistic in style and structure, but her performance is nothing short of spellbinding, with her depiction of a mother grieving the death of her son being extraordinary and worth our time all on its own. The key to the strength of her performance is simplicity – there are very few moments where she allows the intense emotions to become overwhelming, and despite the harsh nature of the material she maintains a stoic and composed aura, since Mara is a woman who does not allow the emotions she feels deep within her soul to manifest in her actions or appearance. Instead, they come about through silences that speak volumes. Karanovic is a very gifted actor, and she carefully curates this film to be a portrait of a woman navigating the various stages of grief, each one presenting new obstacles that she never imagined she’d need to face – and through all of it she remains deeply compelling. This character represents the countless grieving mothers who lose their children and have to face the bleak prospect of a future where they carry such an impossibly heavy emotional burden, and in crafting this fragile and sincere portrait of an ordinary woman placed in an unspeakable scenario Karanovic delivers beautiful, earnest work that consistently avoids cliché and overt sentimentality, even at its most emotionally intense. 

Mother Mara is not immune to imperfections, and there are a few shortcomings that prevent it from being entirely cohesive, such as the shoehorning in of a May-December romance that has only marginal narrative significance and could have been considerably shorter, as well as a few meandering moments that do very little to progress the plot. However, this is still a film that has ironclad intentions, particularly in how it explores a woman who is caught at the crossroads between grieving for the son she has lost and allowing it to derail her life and moving forward to honour his memory, knowing that falling victim to this sorrow indefinitely will not be productive. A relatively conventional social realist drama, right down to the smallest visual detail – the first two acts are filmed in muted, drab colours that reflect the monotonous feeling of drifting through life aimlessly after a devastating loss, and more vibrant colours gradually start to emerge as Mara begins to overcome this initial period of grief – the film is a poignant examination of the process of mourning, filled with raw and harrowing emotions that work together to convey a very strong message. Ultimately, Mother Mara is more about the message than the execution and eventually makes it clear that any loss is going to be challenging, but that losing a child is particularly devastating – but even through such an overwhelming experience, there is a path forward. Restarting is not always possible, especially in terms of getting to the place where we were before the loss, but learning to live with the trauma and use it productively to bring about positive change is indeed possible. The path towards recovery usually tends to go in many unexpected directions, and it is all about the simple act of letting go, regardless of the difficulty that comes with such a daunting and harrowing process.