‘3 Weeks After’ Review: A Teenage Nightmare From Serbia

The kids are not alright, or even right in the head in Serbian drama 3 Weeks After. This skillfully made but mean-spirited exercise revolves around a high-school trip to the countryside that turns extra dark when nearly everyone takes to bullying one kid among them: a boy, Zoza (Jovan Ginic), who just happens to have been the best friend of another kid they all bullied into committing suicide three weeks before, hence the title.

Imagine an especially vicious adaptation of Lord of the Flies or a remake of Gus Van Sant’s Elephant but directed by Gaspar Noé. Indeed, there’s even an extended sequence in which the teens get high and dance to techno, recalling Noé’s Climax. Unfortunately, 3 Weeks is way less fun and has a sadly deflated final stretch. More importantly, for all that director Miroslav Terzic (Redemption Street, Stitches) has talked up basing this loosely on actual events and discussing peer-on-peer violence with his young cast, the film offers an absurdly bleak portrait of Gen Z that just doesn’t ring true.

The picture opens with a sledgehammer of a visual metaphor: a building on a housing estate is fully engulfed in flames, but there are no firefighters on the scene, no victims screaming from windows, and not even any gawking spectators except for Zoza. Even he seems pretty unbothered about the inferno. Seemingly having had his fill of conflagration watching, Zoza heads off with his backpack, joined en route by classmate Darija (Andjela Alavirevic), who expresses her surprise that he’s going on the school trip to Bulgaria so soon after “what happened.” This traumatic three-weeks-old inciting incident — wherein Zoza’s friend Andrija killed himself in order to escape bullying from his schoolmates — is only gradually explained as the film unfolds, with nasty little details dropped like breadcrumbs along the way.

It turns out that Zoza was also somewhat culpable for Andrija’s death, although nowhere near as much as those who actually beat and humiliated the late teen until he could bear it no longer. As the kids sit on the hired coach in little cliques and subgroups, it becomes clear that they’ve decided Zoza will be the next victim, partly because he knows what happened to Andrija and partly just because he’s quiet, a bit of a loner and not a morally benumbed sociopath like the rest of the class.

At a rest stop along the way, head sociopath Milos Bogdanovic (Andrija Markovic), who has been banned from the trip while the circumstances of Andrija’s death are investigated, sneaks aboard so he can be with his queen bee girlfriend Milica (Klara Karaulic). Somehow neither the two chaperone teachers on the trip, flighty Viktorija (Tihana Lazovic) and lumpish Markus (Branislav Trifunovic), nor the coach’s driver notice Bogdanovic’s arrival. His presence is only detected when the bus is forced to stop on the way due to a landslide-blocked route and a tire is punctured while trying to turn around on the narrow mountain road.

Perhaps that’s all also meant to be further visual metaphors. Certainly, there’s very little that’s metaphorical about the way the script, by Terzic, Vladimir Arsenijevic and Bojan Vuletic, has Viktorija and Markus negligently putting on noise-muffling headphones as they go to bed in the sprawling remote hotel the whole party has checked into. Having spent a little time griping to each other about how awful kids are these days, they both make themselves about as useful as nipples on cockroaches by electively shutting up their ears. With no adult supervision (the hotel staff is mysteriously absent too, as it’s meant to be the end of the season), the teens raid the beer supply and begin hunting down Zoza, who’s lured out by the one person he semi-trusts.

As repellent as the scenes that follow are — especially one in which a child is brutalized out of frame while Milica scrolls her phone with a blank affect, complaining that she’s bored when the atrocity is finished — there’s no denying that Terzic and his team have skills. The chase of Zoza through the forest and caves beyond the hotel is well-wrought, coherently mapped out spatially, and filmed by cinematographer Damjan Radovanovic and his team with just enough light and the right filters to allow us to work out what’s going on. That said, this probably won’t be even faintly legible on a home entertainment system, let alone the handheld gadgets that kids like the ones seen here prefer to watch entertainment on these days.

But this movie isn’t meant for teenagers, or really anyone who has more than a passing acquaintance with young people of this generation. Maybe things are worse in Serbia, which suffered a war a generation ago that left deep scars, but it rather beggars belief that this cohort could be, right down to every single child, quite this pathologically cruel and morally bereft. Likewise, it seems very farfetched that the morning after every single one of them would be so catatonically hungover, passed out in puppy piles in their clothes with not a drop of vomit in sight, that they wouldn’t wake and hear the ominous things going on. Is it another kind of metaphor that Terzic cuts abruptly to black instead of showing us the climactic combustion we’ve been set up to expect? Maybe, but really who cares?