The Constitution

In a crumbling yet charming apartment block in downtown Zagreb, lives are stacked behind thin walls, hallways echo with muffled conversations, and the city’s restless pulse seeps through cracked windows. The building becomes a micro‑cosm of a nation still wrestling with its fractured history, where everyday routines are tinged with both humor and an undercurrent of unease, a stray menace hinted at by the presence of a mysterious dog‑poisoner who lurks just out of sight.

The residents are as disparate as the city’s conflicted past. Vjekoslav Kralj is a high‑school history teacher whose personal expression—homosexuality and transvestism—collides with a fervent, almost nostalgic Croatian nationalism, a stance he shares with his aging father, a relic of a bygone era. Across the hall, Maja Samardžić works as a nurse, carrying the weight of her own painful memories while trying to hold her family together. Her husband, Ante Samardžić, is a police officer of Serbian heritage, grappling with the practical challenges of dyslexia and the symbolic burden of proving his place in a society that still questions his loyalty.

When an unforeseen misfortune forces the quartet into reluctant proximity, tentative bridges begin to form amidst the tension of contrasting beliefs, sexual orientations, and national identities. Their interactions are marked by sharp barbs and uneasy cooperation, each conversation a small negotiation between prejudice and the yearning for connection. The looming presence of the dog‑poisoner adds a darkly comic thread, reminding everyone that danger can be both ordinary and absurd.

Against this backdrop of cramped apartments and whispered histories, the film balances biting satire with heartfelt introspection. It invites the viewer to watch as stubborn walls—both literal and figurative—start to crack, hinting at a shared humanity that may yet emerge from the tangled lives of these four unlikely neighbors.

Last Updated: October 05, 2025 at 16:54