The Directorial "Holy Grail": Why Do the Same People Keep Making Our Religious Films?

 

The Directorial "Holy Grail": Why Do the Same People Keep Making Our Religious Films?

Recently, news started circulating in my digital circles about a new project dedicated to Croatian Christianity. The initiator is a member of the clergy—enthusiastic, pure-hearted, and driven by noble intentions. However, the moment a certain "inevitable" name was mentioned for such themes—Jakov Sedlar—that familiar sense of caution kicked in.

When the Director Becomes Bigger Than the Film (And Why That’s Dangerous)

Let’s be clear: I respect Jakov. He is old enough to be my father, he has a lifetime of experience, and an undeniable professional history. But as a Croatian veteran who voluntarily took up arms in 1991 at the age of 18, I have a right to a certain level of vigilance. My starting point isn't 1941 or 1945. For those years, I ask my grandfathers—one a Partisan, the other a Home Guard—to bear witness to their own history. My history is the creation of modern Croatia, built on the foundations of Christianity and the Homeland War.

This is exactly why this "knee-jerk selection" worries me. Whenever a film is made about our sacred subjects, the finger automatically points to Sedlar (or, until recently, Vrdoljak). The problem is that Jakov, partly by his own doing, has become an "unwelcome director" with a reputation for fundamentalism. In today’s Croatia, where the "young sprouts" of hidden communists compete to see who can spit on patriotism the most, Sedlar is a godsend for them. He is the perfect target—a proxy through which they attack the Right, both the legitimate and the fringe.

A bitter example of this is the film about my acquaintance, Marijan Gubina, and his harrowing book 260 Days. That story has been in the works since 2011, yet the hype was short-lived and stayed on the media fringes. Why? Solely because of the director’s stigma. I feel for Marijan; his fate remained trapped in the shadow of Jakov Sedlar’s persona. Instead of the world weeping over the fate of a camp prisoner, the media dissected the director. As an author, I would never allow that to happen to my work.

Between the Sacred and the Crossbow: Why Are We Shooting Ourselves in the Foot?

I admit, Sedlar fills historical gaps that no one else dares or wants to touch. He promotes us internationally, and for that, in theory, I thank him. But we must be honest and look at the undeniable facts. Jakov has three key problems that neither art nor modern audiences easily forgive:

• The Stigma of Exclusivity: He has become synonymous with radicalism, which automatically builds walls with a "neutral" audience.

• Technical Fatigue: At his age, errors in framing and narration are slipping through, ruining the artistic impact.

• An Arrogant Persona: That "big shot" attitude from the '90s—when he ran the National Theater and received medals as if he had personally commanded Operation Storm—has created an armor that is impervious to criticism.

This brings me to what hurts most as a veteran and a believer. In people like Sedlar and [TV host] Bujanec, we see the same pattern: their intentions may start out honest and noble, but the execution is so sloppy and aggressive that it creates a backlash. Instead of drawing people toward the truth, they create a deeper divide and invite public condemnation. Because of this approach, the average observer gets the impression that patriots are narrow-minded people who refuse to engage in dialogue.

The public square is not a soccer stadium. In the stands, you can curse, scream, and vent your frustrations—it’s an outlet. But making a film about the Church or the State is not a vent; it is a surgical procedure on the national soul. It feels like we are shooting ourselves in the foot because we don't understand that social media and modern press demand a contemporary approach and an eye for detail. In this business, the director’s personality shouldn't matter; the product must be front and center—clean and unquestionable.

There is also a strange irony: both men are extremely vocal patriots, yet neither served in the Homeland War. Sedlar was filming and running the National Theater; Bujanec was in party youth wings and the HOS, but in Zagreb. As someone who felt the mud of the trenches at 18, I say: if you want to be that extreme about the war, you should have at least felt the weight of a rifle on your shoulder. Otherwise, it looks like the defense of the Homeland War is being used as a shield and a platform for rehabilitating the [WWII-era] NDH. This is a "bear's service"—a total disservice—to Croatia.

Is There Really No One Else?

Do we really have to be amateurs who force one man into every project just to get the film made? I would rather a film not be made at all than be made poorly. Hollywood "buries" people overnight over a single rumor, yet we entrust our most sensitive projects to the same few names.

We have other, quiet professionals. Take Neven Hitrec, for example. The man directs hits like The Diary of Paulina B., and you barely know anything about him personally—you only know his top-tier work. He and his father, Hrvoje, served in the war, but they don’t use it as a club to beat those who disagree with them. Why aren't these projects given to people like them? Their approach would be more moderate, more "Western"—much like Jakov’s son, Dominik, who managed to bring a breath of fresh air to their collaborative works.

The conclusion is clear: if Sedlar must do this film, he urgently needs an advisor by his side to keep him focused and rap his knuckles at any attempt at arrogance or historical distortion. Only then can the film become what it was meant to be. We don’t need new ideological trenches; we need a film that makes us all feel good and proud—even after reading an article like this.