Croatian gay drama Sandbag Dam initially caught my attention amongst the Berlin Film Festival lineup, as its premise deeply resonated with me on a personal level. Coming-of-age films in the queer space have many similarities typically, leaning into familiar tropes, coming out scenarios, homophobia from peers, and often tragic endpoints. What sets Sandbag Dam apart from others is its melancholic atmosphere. The characters are richly drawn despite a short runtime, leading to a core romance the viewer so desperately hopes will be rekindled. Heartbreaking and visually lush, Sandbag Dam favors intimacy in its quiet slow burn depiction of forbidden romance.
Marko (Lav Novosel), a cute jock with shaggy curls, seems to have a pretty clear cut path in life. His girlfriend, Petra (Franka Mikolaci), is well-liked by the family. After competing in state championships, Marko plans to skip college to help out his dad at the auto shop. He spends most of his free time caring for rabbits with his younger brother, Fico (Leon Grgic). The arrival of Marko’s childhood friend and former flame, Slaven (Andrija Zunac), shifts the confused boy’s perspective. In Slaven, he finds a calm understanding, a deep connection, a good-natured friend to share a laugh and a smoke.
Of course, no one else in Marko’s life seems very happy that Slaven has returned. His mother, Vanca, is a particularly awful homophobe. The rift between the couple, formed by way of Slaven’s seeming abandonment to leave and live in Berlin, closes quickly as they spend more time together. Slaven has only returned to the quiet village to pay respects for the death of his father. With his own parents having kicked him out when they discovered he was gay, would anyone really blame him for being estranged?
Novosel and Zunac absolutely sell the connection shared by their characters. Their interactions feel authentic, favoring beautifully subtle performances. One of my favorite touches between them happens when they play-act riding in a car together. The crackling cinematography and intimate closeups heighten the raw emotions of Cejen Cernic and Tomislav Zajec’s slow-burn script. In the backdrop of their romance, the village has been struck by heavy rainfall. For years, the dam has been reinforced only by sandbags. This being the film’s title should clue in viewers as to its true meaning—perhaps this subtle metaphor also reflects the fragile stability of Marko’s seemingly perfect existence.
While I had some issues with Sandbag Dam, mainly involving the closure of arcs and ending proper, it radiates pure indie in the best kind of ways. Its tone recalls films like Call Me By Your Name and Firebird; the intangible link between the lead characters provides a glimmer of hope absence in interactions with the other tertiary characters. The final act relies a little too much on frustrating homophobia, and certainly does not neatly wrap anything up with a tidy bow. Yet, by the end, I was won over by the pure innocence of two fated boyfriends. Even when love is difficult, the choice remains: does love truly reign supreme above all else, or should we allow outside forces to dictate our personal motivations? Sandbag Dam gives broad answers, ultimately forcing viewers to draw their own conclusions.
Sandbag Dam screened at 2025’s Berlin International Film Festival.
