That is the only film that truly matters.

Note: Since there is no actual feature film officially titled simply "Ustav Republike Hrvatske" (the famous 2016 film is "Ustav Republike Hrvatske" or "The Constitution"), this review treats the hypothetical or conceptual "whole film" as a documentary or dramatic interpretation of Croatia's highest legal act. For the purpose of this review, I will analyze the 2016 Rajko Grlić film "The Constitution" as the closest realization, and then expand into the idea of a documentary covering the entire constitutional text. When one hears the title "Ustav Republike Hrvatske – Cijeli Film" , expectations immediately split into two camps: the legal scholar expecting a dry, 500-page scrolling text with ambient music, and the cinephile expecting a gripping political drama. The reality—whether in the form of Rajko Grlić's 2016 masterpiece The Constitution or a hypothetical complete documentary—is far more nuanced, provocative, and essential than either group might anticipate. Part 1: The 2016 Film as a Constitutional Fragment First, let’s address the existing elephant in the room: Rajko Grlić’s Ustav Republike Hrvatske (international title: The Constitution ). While not covering the "entire" legal document, this film serves as the most profound cinematic commentary on the spirit, not just the letter, of Croatia’s constitution.

The film’s genius lies in showing that the constitution is not a remote text but a daily performance. Every act of kindness, every moment of empathy, every suppression of prejudice is a "constitutional moment." The film doesn't show Article 1 to Article 150; it shows what happens when Articles 14 (equality), 17 (rights during emergencies), and 35 (respect for human dignity) are tested in a cramped hallway. As a review of the constitutional idea , this film is a 5/5—a masterpiece of social realism. Now, imagine a true "Cijeli Film" —a seven-hour documentary that literally walks through every article, paragraph, and amendment of the Ustav from 1990 (as amended through 2010). Would it work? Surprisingly, yes, but not as a conventional narrative.

In the end, the best review is this: Go watch The Constitution (2016). Then read the actual Ustav. Then realize the distance between the two is the space where Croatian democracy is either won or lost.

7/10 – Ambitious, necessary, but structurally challenging. Rating for Grlić's existing film (as a constitutional allegory): 10/10 – A timeless European masterpiece about law, love, and the fragile architecture of tolerance.

It is a human story that teaches constitutional values without mentioning a single article number. It shows that a constitution lives or dies in the hearts of neighbors. A homophobe learning to care for a gay man is not just a plot point—it is a direct enactment of Article 1: "The Republic of Croatia is a state of all its citizens." The film’s final scene, where the characters share a modest Christmas meal, is more constitutionally profound than any parliamentary debate.

Set in a decaying Zagreb apartment building, the film follows four neighbors: a homophobic, nationalist policeman; a retired, terminally ill Jewish- Serbian professor; his nurse wife; and a gay, young Croatian assistant. The plot forces these opposites to interact through the professor’s need for help and the policeman’s community service. The title is ironic and devastating: the real constitution—the document guaranteeing rights, dignity, equality, and tolerance—is constantly violated by the very people who claim to defend it. The policeman beats gay people; the professor is attacked for his ethnicity; the nurse is exhausted by patriarchy. Grlić asks: What good is a constitution if citizens refuse to live by it?