This might be my favorite of Makavejev's films. At once a portrait of a singularly strange individual, a history of post-war Yugoslavia, and a meditation on aging, this might be the most purely enjoyable essay film I've ever seen. There are ways in which Innocence Unprotected strikes me as Makavejev's most personal movie, which is ironic since most of the footage isn't his own. Indeed, most of the movie is another movie: the first talkie made in the Serbo-Croation language. The original Innocence Unprotected was barely competently made by a then-famous body-builder, acrobat and escape-artist named Aleksic, a man of undeniable physical talents and almost impossible-to-believe narcissism, during the Nazi occupation. Aleksic insists his film was made surreptitiously, but rumor that it was made with the approval of the fascists makes Aleksic a pariah in post-war Yugoslavia. One can see why Aleksic's "film" might have have met with fascist approval. A valentine to his own muscles and bravery, it seems both a celebration of white, European strength and sheer force. Makavejev interviews Aleksic and the film's cast and crew in old age, as they share fond remembrances of their adventures under the occupation. This is interspersed with truly horrific and moving news footage of the sacrifices made by the people during the war and the bombing of the country at the time the artists were working. Makavejev seems simultaneously charmed and repulsed by Aleksic, as was I. He seems a living, breathing allegory of the twentieth century.