SXSW ‘25: Surviving Earth

Surviving Earth achieves a feat of character-building in its opening scene, making the larger-than-life protagonist immediately readable with just a few short, dialogue-free minutes. We meet Vlad (Slavko Sobin) as he’s writing a new song in his tiny but colorful bedroom; the harmonica he plays seems comically small in his big hands, and he’s constantly moving as he tries out riffs and scratches lyrics on a notepad, every emotion playing out across his face until he hits gold. That creative mania defines Vlad’s character throughout the movie, as everything we learn in the ensuing story works to  bolster this first impression.

It’s a testament to writer-director Thea Gajić that the movie’s storytelling remains as taut as it does until the end, all excess trimmed as the tragedy of Vlad’s life unspools onscreen. But the realism of her main character reflects the fact that she’s telling the story of her own father. Like Vlad, Gajić’s father was a Serbian immigrant in the UK, a harmonica player in a Balkan-inspired band, and a substance use counselor with a past opioid addiction. Vlad’s bandmates in the film are based on their real life counterparts, and the character of his 20-something daughter Maria (Olive Gray) is an artist, like Gajić. 

In an audience Q&A after the film, Gajić shared that while first drafts of the movie were from her own perspective, she ultimately chose to tell the story from Vlad’s, decentering herself as the daughter character while still retaining the contours of their relationship. Even as a tribute, Surviving Earth doesn’t shave the edges off Vlad’s character or take a rosy view of his life. Instead, Gajić unflinchingly shows us a man whose capacity for love and joy was tempered by deep anger and the disease of his addiction. 

At the start of the film, Vlad is in a stable place: (mostly) sober, employed, living in subsidized housing and opening for local bands at small venues around Bristol. Maria, who lives in London with her mother, visits regularly to see his shows, and his bandmates treat her like their own daughter. Music is clearly his life, and the scenes of the band performing together are shot with a kind of vibrancy and movement that mirrors Vlad’s own manic energy. 

Gajić noted in the Q&A that casting Vlad took the longest, and the search more than paid off. Slavko Sobin seems completely immersed in his character, adding little mannerisms and staying constantly on the move with barely contained energy. Vlad’s emotions seem almost etched into Sobin’s distinctive face, every thought legible in his expressions and movements. And Vlad’s emotions are many. He loves his bandmates like brothers, gives money he can’t afford to lose to an unhoused friend, and cares deeply for the family he left back in Serbia and only sees via grainy FaceTime calls. But his mercurial and sometimes arrogant nature bubbles under the surface. While his bandmates are happy with the small shows they play around town, Vlad feels sidelined and dissatisfied by their opening slots in bars where people talk over half their set. And when they get the chance to co-headline a concert with a similar band, Vlad’s controlling nature and exactingly high standards for his art threaten to derail the whole event. 

Throughout the movie, the fault lines of Vlad’s addiction become clearer. When Vlad breaks his sobriety and gets drunk, it’s due to a domino effect of actions and circumstances: taking a celebratory shot after a successful concert, followed by a toke of a joint, followed by his harmonica—a family heirloom precious to him—getting broken in the bar. Drunk, Vlad’s worst qualities come to the forefront, and that volatile nature Sobin so masterfully portrays erupts into an anger that’s hard to watch. 

Where some stories of addiction slip into melodrama and misery, Surviving Earth shows the reality of sobriety as a choice that’s made every single day. Gajić’s deft character-building and Sobin’s portrayal of Vlad make it clear addiction isn’t a matter of a moral choice or an allegorical battle with inner demons. As Vlad slips into a downward spiral, his character never becomes a tragic figurehead for the perils of substance use. Instead, he’s just a person—not a hero, not an antihero, but a character written with such layers that you root for him even as he lets you down. 

If you enjoyed this article, please consider becoming a patron of Hyperreal Film Journal for as low as $3 a month!