“Wall-to-wall entertainment.”

It seems 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 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 traversed 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 tongue-in-cheek charm and pitch-black humour. It may not always be as inventive as we hoped, but offers wall-to-wall entertainment that is just as valuable as works which explore these same ideas with a bit more depth, but not the mischievous candour that goes into informing this fascinating little gem of a film.  

There are various kinds 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 an unconventional approach. The Virus of Pathological Kindness certainly occupies the latter category, particularly in how it does not focus on making a specific statement so much as trying to examine some slightly larger ideas through an audacious combination of science fiction, action and comedy, all woven together to create a bitingly funny film. 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 underlying tensions are events from our own 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 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 a peculiar commentary on the idea of global catastrophes caused by diseases, a tricky subject that the film handles quite well, even at its most predictable.

There’s a narrative ambiguity that can sometimes be slightly impenetrable, and we don’t always understand precisely what is being communicated by the film. Whether this is an intentional choice is unclear, but we do find that certain aspects of the film work better than others, in terms of the execution of these bolder ideas. Throughout the story, Ličina makes some interesting 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 which is 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, 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 compelling charm, even when the film does tread familiar narrative and stylistic territory.

The Virus of Pathological Kindness is quite culturally specific, so it’s possible that viewers who don’t have an 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 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 work 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.