“Wall-to-wall entertainment”

It seemed like an ordinary evening when Zorka Vasiljević, a mild-mannered teacher living in an urban area of Zagreb, is interrupted by an unwanted visitor: a mysterious man appears in her kitchen, wearing nothing but a smile and armed with a mysterious weapon, claiming to be from the future. He is here to warn the world about an imminent pandemic, where a virus is about to be introduced that is going to impact the entire world population. It is up to them to warn the rest of the world, but like any attempt to save the day there are natural complications, and the stranger proves not to be the only person who has been able to traverse space and time. A variety of other adversaries gradually make their way through this humble apartment that, for some reason or another, has become a hub for the battle between the past, present and future. This already outrageous premise is what kickstarts The Virus of Pathological Kindness, an irreverent and delightfully offbeat blend of dark comedy and science fiction in which Predrag Ličina (best known for the horror comedy The Last Serb in Croatia) tackles some broad themes with the kind of tongue-in-cheek charm that we have come to expect from this particular brand of pitch-black humour. It may not always be as inventive as we may hope it is based on a cursory glance, but offers wall-to-wall entertainment that is just as valuable as those works which explore these same ideas with a bit more depth, but not nearly as much mischievous candour that goes into informing so much of this fascinating little gem of a film.  

There are various categories of satire, but they can mostly be divided into two broad categories: those which take a more subtle, nuanced approach by relying on intricately woven narratives, and those which throw caution to the wind and tackle timely subjects with a more unconventional approach. In the case of The Virus of Pathological Kindness, we have a film that certainly occupies the latter category, particularly in how it does not focus on making a specific statement so much as it is trying to examine some slightly larger ideas through the context of an audacious combination of science fiction, action and comedy, all woven together to create a bitingly funny comedy. The roots of the story come from the very simple premise of a science fiction comedy built around time travel, but one set in the recent past. The grand revelations that serve as the catalyst for the underlying tensions are events that are already in our own distant past, such as the death of certain public figures or outcomes of certain political and social events. This gives the film an inherent sense of whimsy, since there’s nothing particularly provocative about what is being revealed, but rather the manner in which everything comes together, which highlights some of the more intentionally absurd aspects of the story. There’s also something to be said about the primary crisis of the film being an airborne virus that has the potential to unspool society, which is certainly resonant enough given what the world has recently been through. It doesn’t become too heavy-handed in how it delivers what proves to be quite a peculiar commentary on the idea of global catastrophes caused by diseases, a tricky subject that the film achieves quite well, even at its most predictable.

There’s a narrative ambiguity that can sometimes be slightly impenetrable, and we aren’t always capable of understanding precisely what is being communicated by the film. Whether or not this is an intentional choice is not clear, but we do find that there are certain aspects of the film that work better than others, such as in terms of the execution of these bolder ideas. Throughout the story, Ličina makes some interesting and unique observations about culture, community and the often-ambiguous relationship between the past and the present, which unexpectedly proves to be quite intriguing, even at its most obvious. The entire film is shrouded in a thick layer of irreverent comedy, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a moment that isn’t brimming with the kind of offbeat wackiness that seems to be the director’s primary modus operandi when exploring subject matter that perhaps would’ve been more refined (but not nearly as entertaining) in the hands of another filmmaker. The film is set in a single location, which is a peculiar choice for something that presents itself as a sprawling science fiction epic – but it is in these restrictions that some of the more fascinating elements emerge through the writing, the different kinds of humour (which run the gamut between caustic wit and outright slapstick, often at the exact same time) and performances. These are ultimately what ties this film together, the actors working with a dialogue-heavy screenplay to find some fascinating characters that may never be more than just thinly-veiled archetypes, but have a charm that we can’t help but find compelling, even when the film does tread through familiar narrative and stylistic territory.

The Virus of Pathological Kindness is a film that is quite culturally specific, so it’s possible that viewers who don’t have the in-depth working knowledge of the history of Yugoslavia in the 1980s will miss some of the more intricate jokes woven into the fabric of the story. However, there’s nothing contained in this film that can’t be understood with some attention, especially since the director puts in the appropriate amount of effort to connect its charming execution with the deeper ideas lingering beneath the surface. Inspired by the classic science fiction B-movies that populated the culture decades ago, while filtered through a more contemporary lens that gives it additional layers of resonance, the film is constantly finding ways to entertain the audience, taking us on this hilariously offbeat voyage into the past; one that is shown affectionately but without the predictable nostalgia, which is instead replaced by something far more captivating. It certainly does take a certain amount of patience, and those who are not willing to suspend disbelief may find it to be somewhat frustrating (since logic is certainly not a priority here), but as a consistently wacky comedy that has some ambitious observations embedded within it, The Virus of Pathological Kindness is an eccentric, compelling comedy that is by no means subtle. Nonetheless, it still has its place, especially in contemporary Balkan cinema, which benefits from such unconventional stories being told, since it presents familiar social and cultural ideas regarding the region’s past in increasingly interesting ways.