Vladan Nikolic: Crafting Stories from a DIY Spirit
By Emma Minor
For the first installment of a new content series highlighting faculty at the School of Media Studies, we had the pleasure of speaking with filmmaker, Vladan Nikolic.
Vlad shared details about his latest film, Everything That Will Happen Has Already Happened, a multi-narrative project that connects stories from filmmakers worldwide. Inspired by the impact of COVID-19, the film offers a powerful commentary on the deep-rooted flaws in our global systems. You can watch the trailer here.
We also discussed his journey from the vibrant punk music scene of the 1980s to his evolution as an independent filmmaker. He shared how that era’s rebellious, DIY ethos continues to shape his approach to storytelling, and discussed the realities of working in the independent film industry—including how to handle rejection, balance the creative and commercial aspects of filmmaking, and why perseverance is vital for emerging filmmakers.
Your forthcoming film, Everything That Will Happen Has Already Happened, which premieres at a large European Film Festival this November, came out of the disruption caused by COVID-19. Can you speak more about your inspiration for the project
When things slowly started returning to normal in 2023, I was struck by how quickly people wanted to move on from the pandemic, almost forgetting what we’d all just experienced. But it was a critical moment that exposed the glaring inadequacies of our systems—both in the U.S. and globally—in dealing with crises. The consequences were enormous, and I felt a sense of outrage that we seemed to be brushing it aside.
I didn’t want to create a direct retelling with the film but something more global to explore the bigger picture—how not just the pandemic but other contemporary issues are shaping lives around the world. I thought it would be interesting to collaborate with filmmakers from different countries and tell a series of connected stories. So, I reached out to filmmakers from different countries and began crafting a global narrative. There’s a through-line that takes place in New York, which I directed, but we also have these smaller, connected stories from all over the world.
The project became much bigger than I initially planned, but it’s been incredibly exciting. What made it special is how many international filmmakers got involved. Many of them are former students from The New School’s Media Studies program: Julie Deffet from Belgium, Shireen Khaled from Lebanon, and Luz Zamora from Venezuela contributed stories from their regions. And we also have stories from Ukraine, Syria, China, and more. These filmmakers, in their own ways, explored universal themes like migration, economics, politics, and personal identity.
What’s fascinating is that even though we didn’t coordinate specific topics, common themes kept emerging organically. It’s become this mosaic or mandala of stories that, when pieced together, paint a broader picture of the global experience during this time. And doing it all on a shoestring budget has only added to the collective effort—it’s a project where none of us knew how it would turn out, but it’s been incredibly rewarding. I’m particularly excited about how it ties back to The New School’s international scope and the talented alumni who’ve gone on to engage with such important issues.
How long did the project take from your initial idea to completion?
It took over a year because the project developed organically. We shot the New York segment last spring, but I was still gathering stories throughout that time. The editing wrapped up just a few months ago. As I spoke with one filmmaker, they’d recommend someone else from, say, Brazil or another part of the world, so the scope kept growing. In the end, it became an enormous project—powered largely by the energy and willingness of everyone involved. This was a collective film, where each filmmaker brought their own voice. The question was always, would all the stories come together into a unified piece? And they did, with a collage-like quality that still has a unifying thread.
With so many media networks and platforms consolidating, does it limit what bosses and investors look for in films? Do you ever feel like you can’t pitch or make a film because it won’t be publishable?
This has been a recurring cycle in the industry, which always consolidates and creates a bubble, but that’s when independent content comes in—which can be more responsive to the moment and allows filmmakers to create outside that bubble.
While we have an overload of franchise films and superhero content, other projects are still being made. Platforms like Netflix and Apple have actually opened up financing for more adventurous projects. For example, Netflix recently made subtitled series popular in the U.S., breaking the old assumption that American audiences don’t like subtitles. Viewing consolidation negatively is easy, but there’s always space for alternative content.
You’ve touched on this, but what role does media play in shaping social and cultural narratives? What challenges exist in this space?
This isn’t new, but things have changed dramatically with social media. Over the past decade, reaching people who don’t want to be reached has become much harder. If you make a film on something like climate change, those who believe in it will watch, but those who don’t will live in their own information bubbles, seeing only what supports their worldview. That’s the challenge now—how do you get new audiences to engage with ideas that might open them up to something different?
Another shift is the sheer amount of media out there. You’re no longer just competing with new films and series but with the entire history of media, all available online. Anyone can watch a 1943 film on YouTube if they want. And then, there’s the marketing power behind blockbuster films like Barbie and Oppenheimer—these billion-dollar campaigns push certain projects into the spotlight while thousands of other, often more interesting films and media pieces, struggle for attention. So many creative works out there deserve an audience, but they face huge barriers to getting noticed.
Who are some filmmakers, writers, or creatives that inspire you, and how do their works influence your creative process? I’m sure it’s changed over time, but who stands out for you?
Different filmmakers have influenced me at different stages. When I was younger and studying film, some were really inspiring, like Godard—he was a huge influence, especially with the French New Wave. Canonical filmmakers broke the rules to create something new, not just for disruption’s sake but to reflect personal realities and viewpoints. That always resonated with me.
Nowadays, having seen so many films, I sometimes feel like, “Oh, I’ve seen this before but better,” but then a film surprises me with something fresh. Our Media Studies program has the Hirshon Artist-in-Residence, where we bring in filmmakers for masterclasses and public presentations, who are truly doing something personal and unique. Over the years, we’ve invited filmmakers like Sean Baker, Raoul Peck, many others, and most recently Christine Vachon, who, for instance, helped bring queer cinema into the mainstream with films like Boys Don’t Cry.
All these filmmakers have been hugely successful, and what I find inspiring in their work is a unique vision that corresponds with their times. They didn’t conform to what the industry expected—they pushed their ideas forward. I try to pass that on to students: don’t be afraid to push boundaries.
What initially drew you to filmmaking, and how has your approach to the craft evolved over time?
Initially, I wanted to go to art school—I was into drawing and painting. But this was the ’80s, and music was exploding, especially new wave and punk. I had a band back in Yugoslavia; we made some records and did a bunch of concerts. It was the most exciting time of my life, but music wasn’t exactly a long-term career there. Some friends were interested in film, and I realized film brought everything together—the visual, music, and audio. That’s what drew me to it.
When I came to the U.S. in the early ’90s, I gravitated to the independent scene, especially in New York. I met filmmakers and producers who were doing really unique work, and I wanted to be part of that. Independent filmmakers have to be scrappy and figure out funding independently. I really admired that spirit—the same kind of DIY spirit that punk and New Wave music had in the 80s —this idea of just making a film because you believe in it.
There’s actually a whole generation of filmmakers from that time who started out by making music. I spoke to our recent resident Mary Harron, who directed American Psycho and I Shot Andy Warhol, about this. She had a similar background in the punk scene in Britain. We discussed how there’s a mindset that carries over from punk: you don’t have to be a master, it’s about having ideas and putting them out there. For many of us, film became the next medium for that DIY mentality.
You’ve evolved from the punk scene into filmmaking, drawn by its scruffy nature as a way to tell stories. Can you discuss a particularly challenging project and how you overcame those challenges to bring your vision to life? What advice would you give to students and filmmakers learning the craft about staying innovative and energized, even when it’s difficult?
Challenges come in all shapes and sizes. The key is to scale your expectations to the project’s reality. If I’m making a lighthearted comedy, I know it could appeal to a larger audience and maybe secure more funding. But if it’s a dark, difficult project, I might do it on a smaller budget—just a few people and one camera. Technology today makes that possible. When I started in the ’90s, even a “no-budget” film meant $30,000 to $50,000, and to finalize it for a theater release, you needed half a million to a million dollars. Now, you can make a film for next to nothing. But stay realistic about your expectations. Not every project will be a blockbuster, but if you create something solid, it will find an audience.
Filmmaking requires funding from the start, so if you’re not comfortable hustling for money, find a producer who is. Don’t try to do everything yourself—build a team. I always tell my students: “Sure, you can crowdfund your movie and shoot it, but maybe first try to get some external funding.” You never know—an organization, institution, or individual could believe in your subject matter and want to support it. People finance films for all kinds of reasons, not always to make money, especially with independent films. But expect rejection, and get used to people telling you “no.” It’s tough at first, but you learn to handle it over time. Your first bad review might make you want to quit, but by the fifth one, you’re like, “Whatever.”
Finally, remember that your first film is just that—your first. Everyone thinks their debut project has to encompass their whole worldview or life’s work. It doesn’t. You’ll make more films. Keep going and stay focused.
If you are an SMS faculty member interested in being interviewed for this content series, please email us at: smscommsandevents@newschool.edu. We’d love to hear from you!