Nikola Krulj’s #45 Marches Straight into the Absurdity of War

Nikola Krulj’s student animation #45 begins with an almost childlike simplicity, little soldiers march, orders are given, everyone stays in line. It resembles the visual logic of a game until Krulj quietly reminds us that real soldiers don't get to stand back up when somebody stops playing.

In this dystopian miniature, identity has been systematically erased. Soldiers are numbers, authority is reduced to a faceless general, and obedience has become choreography. Among the endless procession is #45, gradually sensing that the road ahead may not lead toward glory, victory or even purpose. Perhaps everybody is simply marching toward disappearance.

It is a simple concept, but Krulj understands the usefulness of simplicity. The film is short, concentrated and refreshingly uninterested in overbuilding its dystopia. Instead, heavy symbolism does the work.

The visual approach is particularly effective. Krulj's unusual designs and controlled color palette establish a world that initially feels deceptively innocent. That contradiction becomes the film's sharpest weapon.

Sound design adds another layer of unease, giving weight to an otherwise stylized universe. For something so visually removed from realism, #45 becomes strangely emotional. Its anti-war message isn't buried beneath unnecessary complexity.

One choice, however, slightly weakens that power, the visualization of dialogue and thoughts through animated text. It explains emotions that the film's imagery is already capable of communicating. A hesitation in the march. A glance toward another soldier. A body refusing, for half a second.

Silence could make the revelation considerably more brutal.

Allowing us to understand these soldiers entirely through movement and body language would also reinforce the film's central tragedy. If this world has already stolen their names, perhaps the film should threaten to steal their voices too. Then the smallest gesture of resistance could become deafening.

Still, #45 demonstrates an impressive confidence in symbolism and visual storytelling. Krulj takes something enormous and compresses it into a brief, accessible and haunting animated parable.