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Review of “Three” – Yugoslavian Trilogy of WWII Horrors

Intriguingly structured … Three. Photograph: Courtesy: Klassiki

Serbian film-maker Aleksandar Petrović was an essential figure in the former Yugoslavia’s insurgent Black Wave cinema movement, alongside other notable directors like Dušan Makavejev. Petrović’s 1965 anti-war triptych, Three, has received a revival and is performed in a distinctively self-aware, almost theatrical manner. The film consists of three interlinked tales drawn from the horrors of World War II, based on stories by Serbian author Antonije Isaković.

Milos, the protagonist, is portrayed by Serbian actor Velimir “Bata” Zivojinovic. Initially, he is a student who later becomes an anti-German partisan following the Nazi invasion of Yugoslavia. By the war’s end, he has transformed into a cold, calculating communist state-security officer.

The first story is set in 1941. We see a crowd of terrified civilians anxiously awaiting the Nazis’ imminent invasion. A platoon of nervous soldiers struts around, unsure of their next move, while others remain on a stationary train, awaiting orders and mockingly laughing at Gypsies playing music and displaying a dancing bear. Among the crowd, Milos, still a student, witnesses a journalist being shot dead by a jittery soldier on suspicion of espionage. The journalist’s wife arrives with their child too late to defend her husband. Amid the chaos, a passerby shouts, “Because of the likes of you we lost Kosovo in 1389!”—a reminder of long-standing national resentments that would resurface during the 1990s Balkan wars.

In the second story, Milos has become an armed partisan fleeing across hostile terrain, pursued by Germans. With no bullets left in his Luger, he heads through a swamp toward the Adriatic, hoping to rejoin his unit. Along the way, he meets another partisan. They attempt to escape together, chased by a sadistic German airman who toys with them, spraying bullets indiscriminately. Ultimately, Milos’s courageous comrade sacrifices himself to divert the Germans, leading to his brutal execution.

The final story unfolds around 1944. Milos has now transitioned into an officer and functionary, his appearance sleek and composed. He broods over his report of captured Gestapo officers and the mistress of one. The prisoners stand blankly in the village square, awaiting execution. The mistress repeatedly meets Milos’s gaze from his office window. The tension builds—does Milos have feelings for her? Could he possibly save her life?

Each story in Three underscores the chaos and horror of war. Notably, the film avoids depicting direct military engagements or battles. Instead, it focuses on bullying, fear, and judicial murder. We are left to ponder what goes on in Milos’s mind. Has he been radicalized and brutalized by witnessing Nazi atrocities, making him no better than his tormentors? Did the journalist’s execution trigger his own ruthlessness, or was this educated young man always destined for a bureaucratic career marked by detachment and efficiency? This film offers an intriguingly structured, coolly dispassionate examination of war’s moral complexities.

Three is available on Klassiki starting 1 August.

Source: The Guardian