In Aleksandar Radivojević‘s Karmadonna, God is real and he’s extremely displeased with humanity. Prone to profane rants and bloody vengeance, the deity manifests exclusively as a voice, principally on the phone. To hear his voice is to grant him access in a film where God wants to destroy the human race because humanity – as an experiment – has completely failed.
The anger that God or Siddharta (as he is apt to call himself) feels towards humanity drives the film’s narrative, though audiences may care less about the “why” than the bloody set pieces that result from his wrath.
Of course it turns out that the people Siddharta really wants to eliminate are beyond his control, so he needs a human vessel to help him take care of some bloody business. Enter Yelena (a fantastic Jelena Djokić), a pregnant, single, older woman who is finally having a baby of her own and is destined for an unforgettable night of violence.
Though Djokić isn’t particularly old, the character is routinely referred to as granny by the many young, self-centered influencers and narcissists she meets over the course of the film. Although Yelena has been chosen by Siddharta for reasons she doesn’t fully understand, she has no choice but to act on Siddharta’s behalf to find and execute a select group of individuals deemed “poisonous” to his grand design.
This includes Beksa (Petar Strugar), an Instagram-famous writer who peddled a shitty book about depression to Gen Z; his hypocritical queer religious father Najdan (Milutin ‘Mima’ Karadzic); and a pair of execs at a television studio peddling on-air miracles by a Jesus figure named Bane (Milos Lolic).
Each of Yelena’s encounters act as a standalone action set piece that, in the style of Kill Bill, involves almost as much talking, negotiating, and cursing as they do extreme bloodletting. Under writer/director Radivojević’s eye, many of these battles adopt the banter of a philosophical debate, even as characters go up in flames or throw shot glasses at each other’s heads.
The action and the audacity of the film are its main sources of appeal. Radivojević and editor Branimir Zivkovic keep things moving so the film maintains its vibrant kinetic appeal, even when things slow down in between kills.
And there’s the farcical approach to Karmadonna‘s “world gone mad” approach to storytelling.
Take the opener, for example: the film begins with an anti-smoking ad wherein a group of people surround a baby who is eventually revealed to be the son of God (throughout the film multiple people will credit the campaign for making them quit).
It turns out that the ad is initially being watched by a young boy on his phone. The device is immediately grabbed by a bully and the pair wrestle for possession until a third boy enters the frame, demanding that they stop fighting. And they do…so that they can beat him up instead.
This kind of escalating violence, partnered with irrational thinking, and the pervasive feeling that the rules and etiquette that governs the world have all disappeared is emblematic of the film’s main thesis. Siddharta will revisit this idea many times.
Following the spat between the boys, Karamdonna introduces Yelena, who has been watching this interaction from a nearby park bench. Barely a beat passes before Siddharta reveals himself in a show of power that clarifies he can cause her, as well as others, including the child bully, a great deal of pain.
Picture it: a head, a tree, and a great deal of velocity. You get the idea.
Of course viscera should be expected from the directorial feature of the writer behind A Serbian Film. Karmadonna‘s violence doesn’t pack the same visceral punch as that divisive film (it’s too cartoony), but Radivojević certainly doesn’t skimp on the red stuff. This is particularly true of the climax, which features Yelena staging a full-on assault on the compound housing Danica (Milica Stefanovic) and Kronjac (Milos Timotijevic), the executives who have duped Bane into becoming a highly profitable content creator for the self-help crowd. It’s a reckoning straight out of the Bible, with all of the expected nightmare-inducing imagery.
It’s good stuff and Karmadonna would be an easy recommendation if not for one big issue: a punishing runtime. There are plenty of sequences that are great fun, but as the film inches towards the two hour mark and Radivojević reiterates his point (several times over), the film simply overstays its welcome.
One wrathful monologue from Siddharta is great; by the third or fourth rant, it has become a little tedious.
Karmadonna is maximalist in its approach. It has a clear and distinct perspective and isn’t shy about being loud and gratuitous. This same excess sadly takes the film down a notch or two. Still, there’s enough gore and ridiculousness here to recommend. A little more sniping (and not just of private parts) would have done wonders.
Karmadonna had its world premiere at TIFF 2025. The film does not currently have a release date.