From Folklore to Bass Drops: A Love Letter to DJ Ahmet
There’s something quietly electric happening in North Macedonia. Over the past few years, a new generation of filmmakers has emerged from the shadows of post-Yugoslav cinema, stepping away from the heavy legacy of war stories and austere realism. In their place are films that breathe — stories that carry the dust and soul of the Balkans but are told with humor, light, and a deep emotional pulse.
Among them, Georgi M. Unkovski’s debut DJ Ahmet stands out not just for its charm, but for its courage to believe in joy. This is a film that sidesteps cynicism, that believes in music as a form of rebellion and in love as a quiet, subversive act.
At the center is Ahmet, a 15-year-old boy from a remote village nestled deep in the Macedonian mountains. He’s soft-spoken, observant, and largely invisible to the rigid adults around him. His world is one of inherited tradition, arranged futures, and unyielding expectations. But through his headphones, Ahmet hears something different. A pulse. A rhythm. A life beyond the limits of what he’s been told is possible.
When he falls for Aya, a girl already promised to another, the story begins to shimmer with both sweetness and quiet resistance. The two connect not with grand gestures, but with glances, shared silences, and eventually a plan: to perform at the village’s annual folk festival with their own hybrid version of tradition. Ahmet turns a tractor into a sound system, layering folklore with electronic beats. It’s funny, ridiculous even, but also deeply moving. What they’re really building isn’t just a performance — it’s a signal flare to the world that something new is possible here.
This is where DJ Ahmet shines. It could have been a somber coming-of-age tale, and at moments it leans that way, but Unkovski constantly steers it toward brightness. The humor is gentle and organic — the kind that emerges when a goat interrupts a romantic moment, or when a stoic elder stares at a DJ setup like it might explode. The film never mocks the village or its people. Instead, it allows both tradition and rebellion to coexist, sometimes awkwardly, often beautifully.
Visually, the film is steeped in natural light and local textures. Shot on location in actual Yuruk villages, the environment feels alive — golden hills, dusty roads, worn-down homes, and that ever-present backdrop of the mountains. There’s no artifice here. When Ahmet plugs into his music, the film slips into dreamlike slowness. Time bends, the world softens, and we see what he sees: escape, beauty, possibility.
Arif Jakup, in his first major role, brings a soulful quietness to Ahmet. He barely speaks, but when he does, it matters. His performance is all in the eyes — hopeful, hurt, determined. You root for him not because he’s dramatic, but because he’s real.
The film’s premiere at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival marked the arrival of a voice both familiar and fresh. It won both the Special Jury Award for Creative Vision and the Audience Award, and soon after swept major prizes at Art Film Fest in Slovakia. Critics from Cineuropa, Variety, and beyond praised its emotional authenticity and its gentle humor. But perhaps more important than the awards is how the film makes you feel: it lifts you.
DJ Ahmet is about a boy. But it’s also about a country caught between generations. It’s about what happens when someone dares to bring a beat into a space that’s been silent for too long. It’s about love, not the explosive, tragic kind, but the kind that shows up in a quiet dance, in a beat shared between two people who are simply trying to be free.
By the end, when Ahmet plays his music and the village listens — really listens — it’s hard not to feel the weight of that moment. Not because it’s loud, but because it’s true. Macedonia’s new wave is not just about what filmmakers are saying. It’s about how they’re saying it. With heart. With humor. With hope.
And with a beat that won’t stop.
Denica, OLS Community Manager - Macedonian