A Serbian Film

“Love, art, blood; [the] flesh and soul of a victim. Transmitted live to the world who has lost all that and now is paying to watch … from the comfort of an armchair… Victim is the priciest sell in this world. The victim feels the most and suffers the best. We are a victim, Milos. You, me, this whole nation is a victim." 

Aside from the violent and unspeakable scenes in this film, the most upsetting part is my complicit role as viewer. There are hints throughout the movie of a bankroller behind the storyline, but as silent cameras continue to record on in empty rooms full of sticky aftermath, it turns out it is only me behind the viewfinder. It is all done and over and the film has ended but I am still the voyeur, the reason why. I am the armchair participator, the indifferent world, the clamoring for a victim until faced with the prospect that the victim is only myself. How long does this horror stay with me until I am no longer sated and I move on? There are no easy answers.