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Urša Menart: People Underestimate How Important Friendships Are

Director Urša Menart talks about the film EVERYTHING THAT'S WRONG WITH YOU which explores genuine intimacy and a sense of belonging can be found through online friendships. The film is being screend at the 32nd Sarajevo Film Festival in the Competition Program – Narrative Feature Film.

Five years after it was first presented at Sarajevo Film Festival’s CineLink Co-Production Market, Slovenian director Urša Menart returns to Sarajevo with her film Everything That’s Wrong With You. Through a story of Maruša, a young woman grieving the loss of her mother, and Alja, a mysterious, yet intriguing stranger she meets online, the film explores the concept of intimacy in the digital age. Moving between Slovenia and Germany, the film observes how distance, displacement and changing landscapes can reshape a person’s sense of self and belonging. Rather than reducing its protagonists to their trauma, the film approaches them with tenderness, humor and emotional complexity, revealing two women whose attempts to reach one another are sincere, even though their friendship is fragile. In the end, the film leaves us with the questions of what are we willing to believe, forgive and risk in order to keep another person close, and whether belonging and a purpose can ever be found in someone else.
 
Everything That’s Wrong With You was first presented at Sarajevo Film Festival’s CineLink Co-Production Market in 2021. Now, five years later, with the film completed, looking back at that time, what did Sarajevo mean for the project and its journey?
 
Sarajevo and CineLink specifically was important for us, because it gave us the first hint that the film might be interesting to audiences and the confidence to push forward. I remember the first meeting with Elma Tataragić and the way her interest in the story made me think that there really might be something there. I’m very happy to be able to come back for the premiere.
 
The film follows Maruša, a young woman struggling with the aftermath of her mother’s death, who befriends Alja, a woman she meets online. How did the idea for this story first emerge, and what were the key themes or questions you knew you wanted to explore from the very beginning?
 
I was reading a lot about young women who invent whole new identities for themselves online and the people who befriend them. An aspect that fascinated me was that a lot of the time it was a young woman living in a remote place who was just very lonely. Even more fascinating to me were the people who gravitated toward such personalities – that was the angle that wasn’t discussed much in the stories and articles I read. So, I began thinking about what kind of person that could be, someone who would travel far to meet another person they only know from the internet. And then right when I started exploring that, the pandemic happened and loneliness and isolation became very prominent in our everyday lives, and there was also this longing to just be around people. Which made me connect to those themes even more. 
 
Friendship is often treated as secondary to romantic love, yet it can be just as intense, intimate, and life-changing. Why was it important to you to place female friendship at the center of this story? 
 
Friendships are pretty much the only relationships in life that we choose fully consciously and can exit anytime, seemingly without consequences. Which makes them different, in a dramaturgical sense, from the other relationships humans have. And I also think that, in general, people underestimate how important friendships are and how destabilizing it is to not have them or to lose them. I feel that female friendships are often taken for granted and shown in the media as a given – every young woman has a best friend or a group of girlfriends she hangs out with. But, of course, it’s not that simple.
 
Maruša and Alja are both dealing with personal struggles, but the film never reduces them to their pain. What was most important to you when bringing these characters to life? How did the actresses Anuša Kodelja and Klara Kuk help when it came to shaping the characters?
 
I didn’t want them to be reduced to victims or even their relationship to a manipulator and her victim. I wanted the audience to connect to them even though they are both a bit unusual and have problems connecting to people around them. I think casting Anuša and Klara was the most important step in the process as they understood the characters very well and could bring their own sensibilities to the film. Anuša’s confidence and sense of humor were crucial in giving her character agency and charisma I think she needed. And Klara’s openness and vulnerability really helped to bring us closer to Alja and helped us feel what she feels even when we don’t understand her. They complemented each other well and were very committed. Working with them was a dream.
 
Nowadays, many relationships begin or develop online. Do you think the online world has made it easier to form immediate emotional connections and a sense of intimacy? Do you see these relationships as less authentic to those formed in person, or has the way we understand closeness changed?
 
There is still a lot of judgement around those kinds of relationships, and sometimes rightfully so, but the internet has, in a way, made connecting to people easier. I would never judge someone for trying to connect to people online. That said, the 2026 version of the internet is much more depressing than the internet I grew up with. The exaggerated performance, monetization and the parasocial relationships that form because of it, make exiting that whole world increasingly appealing. The fact that most of us are still online, interacting, just shows how much we crave connection and belonging. That said, I want to go back to the old internet. I don’t want to interact with machines.
 
The story moves between Slovenia and Germany. Were you interested in exploring migration not only as a physical journey, but as something that changes person’s identity and sense of belonging as well? 
 
The perspective of a stranger in a strange place has always been very interesting to me. Of course, a sense of belonging is one of the crucial needs we have as humans and something that is a big part of trying to establish yourself in young adulthood – it’s also pretty subjective and hard to define. The other thing is, I think changing the environment affects us physically somehow. It works that way on me, at least. And I wanted the audience to feel that change, coming from a world that is pretty closed in with the steep hills around Maruša’s father’s farm, then the long travel, and finally coming to a place that is very flat and wide open, with the sea extending seemingly into endlessness. It’s the change of perspective Maruša needs.
 
In the film, the conflicts seem to come from isolation, grief, and the deep human need to feel loved and seen. Were you interested in exploring the grey zones of human relationships, where love, fear, loneliness or the need to be understood can sometimes make people act in unexpected ways?
 
I’m very interested in the things people will do to overcome loneliness, these attempts to grow closer to others that can sometimes come across as a bit desperate, and how these attempts often fail. When we try to approach one another, we're not all equally skilled at it. I'm interested in the mechanisms we have and the different approaches we use, and how, because we have different expectations, this attempt at connection often fails.
I was also wondering, what does it take to keep a friendship that can seem very instant and disposable, and what are we willing to forgive when we want to keep it.
 
Your previous film, My Last Year as Loser, became something of a generational portrait. Do you see Everything That’s Wrong With You as a continuation of your commentary on the expectations and struggles of adulthood?
 
When I think about it, everything I write is about the expectations and struggles of adulthood. The way I see it, adulthood has become harder to achieve, but also harder to define as a term - what are we expected to do as adults and is it even possible for most of us to live up to the expectations? I think the future is much less clear for today’s young adults than it was decades ago so these questions are hard for me to avoid.
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