When I saw that there is a film in the works about Džej Ramadanovski, a Serbian-Roma pop star who passed tragically during at the age of 56 in 2020, I feared it would be another slapdash cash-grab riding on the wave of “Toma”, a hit 2021 film about Serbian folk singer Toma Zdravković.
My scepticism was even greater as I did not like “Toma”. While Milan Marić’s perfromance was great despite the high production value, the film did not feel like it was set in Yugoslavia, but more as a compilation of tropes from Hollywood films to make Zdravković understandable to the audience. The needless, emotionally manipulative subplot in which we were led to believe that Doctors wives in 1980s Belgrade never went to kafanas, was as laughable, as it was a tastament that the director and creators were not particualrly interested in Zdravković nor his time (interesting as they are, without taking as many liberites), but more in making a profitable tear-jerking vehicle around his songs.
„Nedelja“, is almost exactly the opposite, to the point where one can say that it does not use Džej’s music nearly enough. It is more a film about the life of Džej’s friend circle in Dorćol in 1970/80s than about the man himself. This makes it uncommon among Serbian films which generally do not allow their characters and settings to “breathe” but rather focus on pushing the plot forward. This is made possible by the generally amazing (Husein Alijević, Marko Janketić, Aleksej Bjelogrlić, Milica Janevski, Branko Janković, child actors) to competent ensamble cast who do did display the mannerisms of the Dorćol petty criminals turned “entrepreneurs” in 1990s. I am not sure how understandable the film would be to the foreign audiences, but to somebody who has been rubbing shoulders with this peculiar and charming type of people it is amazing to see them captured on film. The film does not shy from displaying them as people capable of great violence as well as great loyalty with even deep philosophical and poetic turns, and does not romanticize, nor moralize. Džej, whose success was due to his mix of child-like honesty and enthusiasm with very dark worldliness, is a great protagonist as he does capture the best of Dorćol, before it was taken over by professionals who want all the cultural cache with none of the girt, most notable in their insistence of air purifiers and support for smoking bans.
This does not mean that Džej is a masterpiece. It is tonally very uneven (maybe due to the fact that it had two directors), and does on occasions reach for rote and cheap emotional manipulation, especially by placing the demise of Džamba on the day of Džej’s historic Tašmajdan concert. However it is a rare „sociological“ film which manages to capture the spirit of Dorćol as it was and still is in some parts.
If you are interested in seeing the remains of Džej’s Dorćol in which petty criminals from communal gaden houses hang out with remains of Belgrade’s pre-war intellectual bourgeoisie here are a few tips (I have written more about the history of Dorćol here and here). First, head to the sauna at 25 maj and listen to the elderly locals talk about their former friends, or if you are in the party mode, straight to the very popular BAM for some Roma music (the place was featured in the film). Then you can refuel at Ceasar, Džej’s favourite haunt (he is commemorated there with a mural) for a pizza as it was in 1990s, or go to Oskar, where 1980s Belgrade restaurant excellence is are still very much alive. If you are very adventurous, go one morning to Mali Šaran or any other bistro by the Bajloni market, and have the regulars stare at you with amusement while you order your morning rakija. Anyhow, avoid the post-2010 hipster haunts which try to sell friendliness, but tend to be just commercially calculating, and see the life around Bajloni and the remaining communal houses as it is: hard, even depressing, but full or warmth and set on perseverance.
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