Director Srđan Keča’s documentary, Museum of the Revolution, is a thoughtful and compassionate glimpse into the effects of society’s rising inequality and the community of people left behind to struggle on the fringes.
In 1961, there was a plan to build a museum in Belgrade as a tribute to Socialist Yugoslavia, meant to “safeguard the truth” about the Yugoslav people. The plan never evolved beyond the construction of the basement, which features as the film’s jumping-off point. The decrepit, dank underground space is pitch black save for the soft glow of firelight. A young girl named Milica learns to knit from her elderly friend Mara, huddled together by the small fire. It’s almost apocalyptic, like they’re the last two in the world, although signs of other residents exist in the form of huge piles of garbage and old discarded items scattered about the labyrinthine space.
They are forced to emerge from their private world into the light when the city initiates new development plans for the building. We recognize the passing of time through Milica’s slightly older appearance and new hair colouring. A community of outcasts has gathered together with makeshift shelters in what’s evidently the outskirts of the city, although we do not meet the others; the film remains firmly focused on Milica, Mara, and Milica’s mother Vera.
The film is a character-driven documentary, offering an empathetic glimpse into the lives and hardships of the three women who have formed their own family. During the day, Milica and her mother travel into the city to try and make a little money by washing windshields of cars stopped at red lights. Vera sends what money she can to her husband in prison and struggles not to show Milica her fear or sadness. Mother and daughter also often spend time with Mara, with whom Milica in particular has formed a fast friendship.
Vera and Mara share similar circumstances in both their living situation and their struggle to cope with forced separation from their families. For Vera, it’s the separation from her husband, imprisoned miles away, and the difficulty of trying to provide for both him and Milica. Meanwhile, Mara explains that her adult daughter is in an abusive relationship and her attempts to intervene have failed, to the point that the husband now blocks communication between Mara and her daughter. Vera and Mara bond over their shared experiences and affection for Milica, but differ significantly on the topic of how best to raise a daughter without the means to do so. Where Vera fights tooth and nail to keep Milica by her side, Mara explains she gave in to social services to provide for her own daughter where she could not. It’s an interesting and delicate moment that offers no right or wrong, but simply reminds us of the humanity and grief behind such tough choices.
The film excels in these shared moments amongst the found family of women, and also in showcasing Milica’s incredible resilience and optimism. Despite the tough circumstances and daily hardships, there is also plenty of love, joy, and a sense of family that permeates the film. And Milica is clearly the steadfast anchor for this family. When Vera falters, Milica offers her strength to continue, understanding with maturity beyond her years stemming from necessity the need to carry onward. With Mara’s hearing declining, Milica calls Mara’s daughter and holds her own on the phone with the abusive partner. Her bold personality enables her to provide support and a little tough love when needed. In contrast, Milica also gleefully holds onto her childhood while she can, playing with Mara and snuggling with Vera, providing all three of them with comfort and joy.
Museum of the Revolution is a touching story that gives deeper meaning to family. The documentary has its world premiere at this year’s International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam (IDFA), the world’s largest documentary film festival with a mission to promote inclusivity and give a voice to underrepresented filmmakers. This year’s festival runs from November 17 to 28.