Writer/director Sonja Prosenc talks to The Contending about her wildly thoughtful family satire, Family Therapy.
The rich and wealthy Kralj family passes another family’s burnt-out car on the side of the road, and thus begins writer/director Sonja Prosenc’s Family Therapy, Slovenia’s Oscar submission for Best International Film.
The Kraljes have just picked up Julien (Aliocha Schneider) from the airport, a son patriarch Aleksander (Marko Mandic) didn’t know he had. Soon, Julien unsettles the house, first by welcoming the family with the burnt-out car to stay the night, which ultimately tests the family. Julien sets his new family on a path toward looking at their reflection in the glass house they’ve built for themselves (figuratively and literally).
I loved getting to prod writer/director Prosenc’s brain about this very compelling story about one family coming to terms with their obsession with perfection and the many interesting themes running through the film.
The Contending: This is such an interesting family dynamic. And while many films might make meeting the new son Julien a middle plot point, we meet him right away! What did you want to explore in this story? Julien is such an interesting catalyst for change.
Sonja Prosenc: Introducing Julien immediately sets the stage for the film’s social satire. In the opening, the family is presented as the epitome of a certain social condition—detached, insulated, and seemingly perfect. Their inner dynamics and their relationship with the world around them are sharply defined from the start. Julien’s arrival is the disruption that starts peeling away these layers. Through him, we move beyond the satire and begin to see the characters as flesh-and-blood individuals, with their vulnerabilities and struggles laid bare. His presence forces them to confront both their internal dysfunctions and their relationship with the reality they’ve worked so hard to avoid. This shift—from observing a social condition to exploring the human condition—is central to the story.
The Contending: The family on the side of the road eventually tries to avoid them in the grocery store, but the Kralj family seems to want them to like them. Are they offended that the road family doesn’t like them? I love that scene.
SP: That scene captures the Kralj family’s contradictions. On one hand, they see themselves as superior and detached; yet, they crave validation from the roadside family, even as they try to avoid them. Aleksander’s actions are especially revealing here. After locking the roadside family in a room the night before, he now wants to convince himself—and them—that he hasn’t done anything wrong. This moment reflects his escapism, a recurring theme in his character. Just as he dreams of space travel to avoid facing reality, he uses this interaction to justify his actions and deny the truth creeping in. It’s a pivotal moment that highlights the Kraljs’ fragile self-image and Aleksander’s struggle to reconcile his fantasy world with his growing conscience.
The Contending: What does Aleksander’s obsession with going into space represent? It’s so wacky! Especially when he announces it at the party.
SP: Aleksander’s obsession with space travel is a metaphor for his escapism and denial of reality. It’s wacky on the surface, but it represents his deep desire to escape the chaos of his life, his family’s dysfunction, and the world around him. Announcing it at the party—a moment of social performance—is his way of clinging to this fantasy and masking his growing unease. While at first it might seem like he wants to win the trip because it’s the kind of extravagant, absurd thing a rich person would chase, there’s a much deeper desire at play. The trip is marketed as “the perfect trip for a perfect family,” and Aleksander believes that winning it would affirm his family’s perfection. In his mind, achieving this would mean he’s succeeded as a father. This escapism is rooted in his inability to cope with his daughter Agata’s condition, which is hinted at throughout the film but fully revealed in the final act. Her illness, and the strain it places on the family, is something Aleksander avoids confronting. Space, for him, symbolizes not just escapism but the validation he craves—a bizarrely convoluted sense of affirmation that he is doing enough, even if it’s entirely disconnected from reality. His dream of leaving Earth becomes a tragic, almost childlike attempt to escape the reality of his own helplessness and guilt as a father.
The Contending: Why does Olivia end up attracted to Julien? That definitely caught me by surprise.
SP: Olivia’s attraction to Julien is tied to her visceral emotional arc rather than being a deliberate act of transgression. It reflects her growing awareness of the cracks in her life and the overwhelming tension of maintaining a facade of perfection. Julien challenges her, bringing chaos into her meticulously controlled world, and this sparks something unexpected in her. This moment isn’t so much about breaking taboos—it’s about Olivia’s vulnerability. Her attraction to him is less about him as a person and more about what he symbolizes: a confrontation with her suppressed desires, frustrations, and the yearning for freedom from her tightly constrained role in the family. We see this thread continue in her relationship with the young woman from the “roadside” family and in the scenes where she appears to be chasing the robber but is really running after the woman. These moments underline Olivia’s desperation to connect with something—or someone—that represents freedom and spontaneity; to rediscover a part of herself that she’s long buried.
The Contending: Agata is another interesting character. Do you think her condition makes her stunted or does her family? She seems to have few boundaries (like when she went into the bathroom with Julien!).
SP: Agata’s condition and her family’s dynamics shape her in complex ways, but she stands out as a bright light within the family’s dysfunction. Unlike the others, she is spontaneous, full of life despite her illness and uninhibited in expressing herself. However, her lack of interaction with the outside world has left her with little sense of boundaries, which we see both in her interaction with Julien and in the party scene where she seeks the attention of the man next to her father, when her father fails to acknowledge her presence. In that moment, Agata’s spontaneity and desire for connection come through clearly. She’s a teenager living in a world of adults, yearning to bridge the emotional gap her family has created. She’s not stunted by her condition as much as by the insular bubble her family has built around her, which both protects and isolates her.
The Contending: Speaking of nature versus nurture, I love the imagery of the deer entering the house, especially that final shot. Was that a real deer? What do you think the animals represent in the film? (I also love the artist at the party that Agata and Julien make fun of — making nature sounds in nature is so ironic).
SP: Yes, it was a real deer! Interestingly, it also had a tiny role in my previous film History of Love (2018), making its return here feel even more special. The deer is the culmination of nature entering the Kralj family’s world—a process that begins subtly and builds gradually throughout the film. At first, nature invades their controlled environment through sound, then through smaller animals, and finally with the deer as the glass wall is shattered. This progression symbolizes the fusion of two worlds: the artificial, insulated bubble the family has created and the unpredictable reality outside. The deer represents both the physical presence of nature and the emotional chaos that has finally broken through their fragile facade. The barriers between control and spontaneity, artifice and authenticity, are gradually dissolved. As for the artist at the party, the irony of making nature sounds in nature adds a layer of humour to this theme. It’s a commentary on the family’s detachment from reality, juxtaposed with the unfiltered intrusion of the real world symbolized by the deer.
The Contending: The house is very much a character in this. How did you describe it in the script and execute on it as a director?
SP: The house is a character, symbolizing the family’s isolation and their carefully curated facade of perfection. In the script, we described it as a modern glass house—beautiful, pristine, and meticulously designed, yet cold and resembling a gallery not a home. It’s transparent but impenetrable, a literal and metaphorical barrier between the family and the world outside.
For me, it was important that the family built this glass house with the idea of being in touch with nature, living in the middle of it. But in reality, they’ve created a vivarium for themselves—a controlled, sterile environment where nothing can come in, and nothing can go out. They don’t truly interact with nature; they just look at it through the big glass walls.
At the same time, they’re on display themselves, like paintings in Olivia’s gallery, trapped in the very image they’ve created. As the story progresses, the house becomes a reflection of the family’s unraveling. It starts pristine and orderly, but gradually, it becomes messy and chaotic. The shattering of the glass wall enforces change and at the same time reflects the transformation happening within the family. Nature, chaos, and emotion finally breach their carefully constructed barriers, forcing them to confront the reality they’ve been avoiding. This evolution was central to how we visualized and executed the house on screen, ensuring it felt alive and integral to the story’s themes.
