Merlinka Film Festival 2025 will return to Belgrade from 11 to 14 December 2025. Over the course of four days, the halls of the Belgrade Youth Centre (Dom Omladine) will once again transform into a celebration of queer cinema. Merlinka has always been more than a film festival; it grew out of activism and grief and has become a cherished annual gathering for lgbtq+Q+ people and allies in Serbia and across the region. Named after the legendary transgender performer Vjeran Miladinović "Merlinka," the festival honours her memory and uses the power of storytelling to challenge prejudice and create safe spaces for conversation. As Serbia continues to grapple with complex social attitudes, the Merlinka festival stands as a bright and defiant response, offering audiences a chance to see experiences that are rarely represented on mainstream screens.
The festival started in 2009 when the Gay Lesbian Info Centre (GLIC) partnered with the Belgrade Youth Centre to launch a small screening series. What began as a modest two‑day event has grown into a respected international festival with separate editions in cities like Novi Sad, Niš, and Podgorica. Over the past decade and a half, Merlinka has screened hundreds of short films, documentaries and features from around the world. The organisers have always insisted on a non‑commercial, non‑profit model, and much of the programming is free to attend, which is quite rare in the festival circuit. This decision was deliberate: by keeping tickets affordable or free, the festival remains accessible to local youths who might otherwise be excluded. Volunteers and activists help to run the event, and you will often find a mix of student filmmakers, seasoned directors, activists and curious neighbours mingling in the lobby.
Each year, Merlinka curates an official competition for short films, awarding the Dorothy's Shoe Award to the best. Categories typically include short fiction, experimental work and animation, and there is also a separate section for feature films and documentaries. The 2024 edition, for example, presented retrospectives of trans cinema, panel discussions about queer representation in Eastern European media, and a late‑night programme called Pink Life with avant‑garde offerings. For the upcoming 2025 edition, the organisers have issued an open call for submissions for films that explore lgbtq+Q+ themes in creative and honest ways. They encourage new voices and provide a platform for student films and low‑budget productions that may struggle to gain visibility elsewhere. After each screening, there are often informal Q&A sessions where filmmakers and audience members can discuss themes such as body autonomy, migration, rural queer experiences, or even the craft of filmmaking itself. These conversations, which sometimes spill out into the foyer or onto the steps outside, are where Merlinka’s true magic lies.
Beyond the competition, the festival also hosts a number of side programmes. There are usually workshops for young filmmakers on everything from script development to sound design, as well as round‑tables that bring activists and scholars together. In past years, there have been partnerships with local NGOs to host safe‑sex education sessions, mental health talks and legal advice clinics. The organisers believe that art cannot exist in a vacuum, and they work hard to make sure the festival addresses the realities faced by lgbtq+Q+ people in Serbia and neighbouring countries. During the 2025 edition, expect to see a similar mix of film and activism. With anti‑discrimination legislation still unevenly enforced and hate crimes often overlooked, simply holding a queer festival in the heart of Belgrade remains a powerful statement. This sense of urgency and resilience is palpable in the festival’s atmosphere and is part of what draws international guests to return year after year.
Another unique aspect of Merlinka is its commitment to decentralisation. After Belgrade, the programme travels to other cities, screening highlights in smaller venues so that people outside the capital can also participate. When the festival moves to Niš or Novi Sad, it often works with regional cultural centres and student groups to host screenings and open mic nights. This touring model means that films created by queer artists from Mexico, South Africa or Poland might be shown in front of young audiences in Serbia’s second‑largest city or a small town in Bosnia. For many viewers, Merlinka is their first exposure to queer cinema, and seeing their own experiences reflected on screen can be deeply moving. It also has the potential to challenge stereotypes and start new conversations in places where lgbtq+Q+ topics are still taboo. In 2025, organisers have hinted at expanding the festival’s touring schedule to include workshops and reading groups, depending on funding and local partnerships.
Preparing for a visit to Merlinka isn’t complicated. Dom Omladine is centrally located near Republic Square and is easy to reach by tram or on foot from most downtown hotels. Screenings during the day are usually free of charge, while evening premieres may require a small donation. Serbian and English subtitles are provided for most films, but there is often a pleasant linguistic chaos in the hallways as visitors from different countries chat with one another. If you’re travelling from abroad, December in Belgrade can be cold but festive. Mulled wine stands pop up around the city, and you can combine film screenings with visits to museums, galleries or walks along the Sava river. Accommodation options range from budget hostels to boutique hotels, and the city’s nightlife includes everything from cosy kafana taverns to techno clubs, some of which host festival after‑parties.
For filmmakers, the submission process for the 2025 edition is open until early autumn, and there are no entry fees. The festival accepts works up to thirty minutes for the short film competition and feature‑length projects in a separate category. Submissions must align with the festival’s thematic focus on lgbtq+Q+ experiences, but the organisers emphasise that there is no single way to tell a queer story. Over the years they have screened comedies about gay seniors dating online, intimate documentaries about lesbians in rural Turkey, experimental animations exploring gender dysphoria, and even science fiction pieces set in dystopian futures. The diversity of voices is one of the festival’s strengths, and it fosters a sense of global community by connecting artists and audiences across borders. Award winners often go on to screen at other festivals or find distributors after being showcased at Merlinka, but the festival’s aim remains to celebrate the art rather than chase commercial success.
Looking ahead to December 2025, anticipation is already building among regular attendees. After the challenges of pandemic‑era travel restrictions in 2020 and 2021, the festival is once again fully in‑person, which means friends from across the Balkans and beyond will be reuniting in the lobby, hugging and laughing before rushing into dark auditoriums. There is always a sense of homecoming at Merlinka. Whether you’re a seasoned activist, a film student, or someone quietly exploring your identity, you will find a welcoming atmosphere. The volunteers handing out programmes and badges are often participants themselves; you might end up sharing a beer with a director whose work you just saw, or with a queer elder who remembers the early days of underground parties in Belgrade when simply gathering was risky. Many attendees talk about the festival in familial terms – an adoptive family formed around shared values of respect, curiosity and resilience.
Outside of the screenings, the festival tends to host exhibitions of photography and visual art, sometimes in collaboration with local artists. There are also evenings dedicated to drag performances or poetry readings. In 2025, the organisers hope to include more interactive elements like VR installations that let viewers step into the shoes of migrants crossing borders or trans youth navigating healthcare. When the festival ends on December 14, there is usually a closing ceremony where the juries announce the winners of the Dorothy’s Shoe Award and other prizes. Speeches are given, but they are often informal and heartfelt, and there are as many tears as there are jokes. It is a celebration not just of cinema but of survival and joy in the face of adversity.
It might seem cliché to call a festival a “lifeline,” but for many in Serbia and the broader Balkan region, Merlinka truly functions as one. Homophobia and transphobia remain embedded in many institutions, and public discourse can be harsh. Spaces where lgbtq+Q+ people can feel safe and visible are still limited. By bringing communities together and amplifying stories that would otherwise go unheard, Merlinka helps to push the cultural needle forward. Each year, a few more parents attend screenings with their queer children, a few more journalists write stories without sensationalising, and a few more politicians are forced to acknowledge the existence of lgbtq+Q+ citizens. These incremental shifts matter, and they begin in spaces like this festival hall. If you have the chance to attend the 2025 edition, even for an afternoon, you will likely leave with a sense of connection – to the films, to the people sitting next to you in the dark, and to the continuing struggle for visibility and equality in the region.
