A while ago, I found myself in my rented room, repacking my belongings and preparing to go home, while quietly sorting through the things that no longer served a purpose. One by one, I put things into boxes—either to throw away or to keep. As I stared at the corner of the room that felt wider, I felt something unusual. No, it wasn’t just the feeling of leaving this place; it was just the air that simply felt different. Empty. All the memories came, as if I had packed them too, saying goodbye.
Those feelings emerge when I watch the Inventory (Ivan Marković, 2025). A short walk through a building that its people slowly abandon pulls us deeper into a haunting void. There is no dramatic verbal and musical narrative, but quiet frames, abandoned things, and rooms that still carry the echo of a life once lived. In that quiet moment, Inventory becomes a visual meditation on loss. The lack of a human figure on the screen disturbs us to actually feel its existence deeply.
Inventory can be read as a social reflection on the country that holds history, whose entire population once coexisted on the same journey. The fragments of life scanned through inanimate objects—chairs, doors, windows—which are lying in the room, symbolize everything that will never come back. This film speaks in a universal language of loss and grief that does not always submit to words.
Watching this short documentary made me think, maybe our lives are like that room. Many things we leave behind carelessly remind us that loss is inevitable. (FadliAwan) (Ed. Vanis/Trans. Shafira Rahmasari)
Film Details
Inventory (Inventar)
Ivan Marković | 21 min | 2025 | Serbia
In Competition for Short Documentary
Festival Film Dokumenter 2025
