Thursday, July 17, 2025

One of the Days Hemme Died | The 98th Academy Awards Nominee

 






The 98th Academy Awards Nominee

Under the direction of Directorate General of Cinema, the 15-person Selection Committee of representatives from various filmmaking organizations, determined the Turkish nominee for the Best International Film category at the 98th Academy Awards which will be held in Los Angeles on March 15, 2026.

Each country selects and nominates one film for the Academy Award. The two-stage vote of shortlisted 15 films will narrow to five films. No Turkish film has yet made it to the final five in this category and competed at the Academy Awards.

After evaluating 14 films sent to the Union of Cinema Professional Associations for considerations, Murat Fıratoğlu’s [1]"One of the Days Hemme Died/ Hemme’nin Öldüğü Günlerden Biri " [2] was selected by a majority vote as Türkiye's Best International Film nominee.

First stop Venice Film Festival

Murat Fıratoğlu’s film, "One of Those Days When Hemme Dies," received the Special Jury Prize in the Orizzonti section which focuses on innovative films, recognized his debut feature film for its unique storytelling at the 81st of the Venice International Film Festival.

Paris based Sales agency Luxbox[3] has acquired “One of Those Days When Hemme Dies!” which has its world premiere in the Horizons section of the Venice Film Festival.

Türkiye was well-represented at the festival with two more films. Turker Suer’s “Edge of the Night” is also shown in the “Orizzonti Extra” section, and Cansu Baydar’s “Almost Certainly Wrong” is included in the “Orizzonti Short Films” category.

Murat Fıratoğlu’s film after its world premiere, was selected as the "Best Film" at the 31st International Adana Golden Boll Film Festival, one of the most prestigious film festivals in Türkiye, which has been running for 30 years where Nuri Bilge Ceylan chaired the jury, and later at the Ankara Film Festival.

After his win at the Adana Golden Boll Film Festival/ Altın Koza Film Festival, Fıratoğlu stated that the idea for the film began when he saw a lone tree in Siverek, and that the limited budget spurred creative inspiration. The familiarity of the locations used in the film and the fact that he spoke the same language as the actors also helped the production process.

Fıratoğlu plotted his screenplay as a powerful outlet for social criticism, using the harsh conditions of the countryside and using local nonprofessional characters, mostly his family members and few professional actors.

When Hemme Dies!

The film tells the story of Eyüp returning to his hometown of Siverek in southeastern Türkiye after financial troubles in the West coast town of Izmir. People dance at a wedding is the first image. The scene changes to him working under the blazing sun during harvest to dry tomatoes under the pressure of an impending debt and unable to earn his daily wages. He argues with his foreman, Hemme. Furious and desperate, Eyüp leaves the field on his red motorcycle, in search of a possibly radical solution to exact revenge.

The Producer Director Murat Fıratoğlu acting as the lead actor as Eyüp uses a simple narrative while he devises a plan for revenge. His villagers continuously divert him with trivial tasks throughout the day, which ends with Eyüp dancing side by side with Hemme at a wedding.

This is a film which forces us to observe the small everyday actions of life, the small but significant acts of rebellion with no intention of laying down arms while engaging the audience to live at Eyüp’s introspection, pace and, pauses, his moments of anxiety and existential doubts with visual pauses sometimes as long as eight minutes where seemingly nothing happens. We feel the urgency in his active mind seeking a solution with subtle visual cues matching red tomatoes to his red motorcycle that constantly stops working. Visual stability makes the viewer feel the suffering under the heat of the yellow sun, empty dust roads, and dry fields becoming characters unto themselves.

The film moves forward without the use of flashbacks except the beginning and ending circle of scenes, with a reluctance for quick editing cuts builds up a slow suspense that deserves to be recognized an important debut and patiently enjoyed making us wait for Murat Fıratoğlu’s follow up with high expectations.

 

Trailer of the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSgYQxjydP8


[1] Murat Fıratoğlu

Murat Firatoğlu

Murat Firatoğlu was born on September 7,1983 in Siverek. He studied law at Dicle University. He lives in Istanbul and works as a lawyer. He has been active in the film industry by attending film-making workshops between 2004 and 2017, including programs organized by Diyarbakır Art Center and film director Reha Erdem. His films have been featured in multiple festivals, including the Antalya Film Forum and the Sabancı Foundation Film Competition.


Filmography

One of Those Days When Hemme Dies – 2024 WATCH

The Photo of Kholoud Ahmed – 2016 – Short film

Albatros Dreams – 2008 – Short film

The Edge of All Possibilities – 2008 – Short film

Straw Dust – 2007 – Short documentary






[2] Credits

One of the Days Hemme Died/ Hemme’nin Öldüğü Günlerden Biri

2024

Türkiye, France, Bosnia and Herzegovina, United Kingdom

Running time: 82 min / Ratio: 1.85  in Color / Sound: 5.1 /

Directed, Written and Produced by:  Murat Fıratoğlu

Cinematography by:  Semih Yildiz, Nedim Dedecan, Abdurrahman Öncü

Edited by: Eyüp Zana Ekinci

Language: Turkish

Cast: Salih Taşçı, Murat Fıratoğlu, Sefer Fıratoğlu, Güneş Sayın, Ali Barkın, Çetin Fıratoğlu.

Festivals & Awards

2024

Venice International Film Festival – Orizzonti Competition – Special Orizzonti Jury Prize

International Adana Golden Boll Film Festival – Nature Feature Film Competition – SIYAD Best Film Award

Mostra Internacional de Cinema de São Paulo

Eurasia International Film Festival – Central Asia and Turkic World Competition – Special Jury Award

Stockholm International Film Festival – Discovery Section

Marrakech International Film Festival – Competition

Singapore International Film Festival – Panorama Section

Hainan Island International Film Festival – Panorama

[3] International Sales by: Luxbox, a Paris-based company, dedicated to international sales of selected projects. Based on a solid film catalogue and an enthusiastic pool of world cinema directors. https://luxboxfilms.com/

6 Rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, 75011 Paris, France

Théophane Bérenger, Festivals Manager & Marketing

T: +33 6 58 82 25 20 / E: theophane@luxboxfilms.com


REVIEWS

Composed of long, meditative sequence shots, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies - the debut feature film by Turkish director and lawyer Murat Fıratoğlu, winner of the Special Jury Prize in the Venice Film Festival’s Orizzonti section - takes us inside the private world of a character wrestling with the injustices of a world where worth depends on earnings. Of a seeming and disarming simplicity, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies is a film which forces the audience to stop and observe the small everyday actions of life, the small but significant acts of rebellion carried out by souls who have no intention of laying down arms.

Eyüp, the film’s protagonist (played by the director himself), slaves away beneath the relentless sun harvesting tomatoes in south-eastern Turkey. He subjects himself to this inhumane regime because he desperately needs to pay a debt which might otherwise land him in prison. Following a clash with his supervisor, Eyüp roams the city devising a radical plan which might return a little stability and dignity to his life.

One of Those Days When Hemme Dies doesn’t focus on urban life or modern society; instead, the director looks to explore the human, existential problems which torment his protagonists. Composed of poetic, introspective sequence shots which can sometimes last as long as eight minutes, Fıratoğlu’s first feature film encourages the audience to live at Eyüp’s pace, sharing his pauses, his moments of introspection, but also his anxiety and existential doubts. During these pauses, viewers can reflect on their own lives, on the small and seemingly insignificant ups and downs of day-to-day life. In this sense, Eyüp guides us towards a world where taking a break becomes essential, a gentler world which allows us to slow down and observe the beauty around us. Sustaining this state of poetic apathy are the silences - the undisputed protagonists of this film which conveys more with images than with words. The director seems to be looking to capture the pace of life itself, the inevitable moments of stasis where nothing happens, where the body appears immobile but the mind is furiously active.

Just like the silences, the landscapes - places where human beings don’t dare venture - becomes characters unto themselves. The images of fields covered in dazzling white tarpaulins and bursting with red tomatoes, all surrounded by seductively barren, yellow mountains and by a sky too blue to be real, are stupendous in this sense. But, when the workers arrive, this Eden-like land turns into hostile ground where abuse becomes common currency. The working conditions are terrible, without any form of social security, as if this paradise had suddenly morphed into hell. Even though One of Those Days When Hemme Dies focuses on the rural workers’ struggles, on the right to having basic needs met and to having a dignified job that’s respectful of the individual, the director also dares to tackle the topics of toxic masculinity, violence and pride. The film is, in fact, dominated by men, and by characters who sink to grotesque measures to impose and preserve their dominion. Eyüp seems to want to escape this vicious circle to seek out a balance and “respect” which aren’t based on the law of the jungle but on tolerance and solidarity. One of Those Days When Hemme Dies is an aesthetically powerful first film which turns simplicity into a battleground.

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 One of Those Days When Hemme Dies sold worldwide by Luxbox.

Review: One of Those Days When Hemme Dies - Cineuropa

In what can most appropriately be described as a collision between Samuel Beckett and Abbas Kiarostami, we find Murat Fıratoğlu standing at the helm of one of the most ambitious debut directorial efforts of the year, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies, a tragicomic account of a conflicted laborer in modern-day Turkey who forms a vitriolic vendetta against the foreman that has taken advantage of him, and decides to plot revenge, which stirs many polarized opinions from those around the periphery of the situation. A simple but very effective drama that carries immense weight in terms of both its thematic content and socio-cultural underpinnings, the film is a fascinating character study in which the director takes an intriguing premise and allows it to flourish into a bold and daring examination of the human condition, albeit one that begins to veer away from convention the further it dives into the layers of subtext found throughout the story. Considering this is his first directorial outing, there are several impressive details in terms of both the narrative and its execution that signal Fıratoğlu’s potential to be an exciting voice in contemporary cinema, and the intrepid style of storytelling aids in overcoming some of the slight flaws that are embedded in the film as part of the director’s development of his artistic voice. The perfect blend of peculiar and melancholic, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies is a deeply unnerving examination of revenge and the toll it can take on those unprepared for the consequences.

There are many fascinating narrative and thematic strands that make up One of Those Days When Hemme Dies, a film that is much deeper than we would expect based on a glance at the premise. On the surface, this is a film about death, which is presented in the vengeful actions of the protagonist against the man who has chosen to abuse his power, and now has to face the consequences. Fıratoğlu crafts something that sits at the intersection between a classical fable that carries an important moral, and a slightly theatrical revenge tale, which are essentially two sides of the same thematic coin, particularly in how they both intend to explore fate and consequences. Interwoven into the central narrative are conversations around culture, particularly life in contemporary Turkey for the working class. Taking place almost entirely in the countryside with a few brief sojourns into the local small town, the film uses its limited scope as a way of exploring the daily routine of these characters, quickly homing in on one particular character as he launches a one-person crusade against a notoriously difficult superior. This unearths some fascinating discourse around class structure, social stratification and the plight of the blue-collar workers who are viewed as expendable labor, but possess both a disdain towards authority and a desire to seize control by any means necessary. Fıratoğlu combines these ideas together in creative and engaging ways, and finds unique components in an otherwise quite straightforward premise.

Based on the simplicity of the narrative, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies could have ventured in many different directions in terms of tone and overall execution. Mercifully, the director chooses to avoid overt sentimentality or an abundance of heavy-handed social commentary, instead crafting the film as a more slow-paced, ruminative piece that develops into a meditative existential odyssey, following the protagonist as he goes through the motions of plotting revenge. The film is told in a bare-bones, mostly unfurnished style, where the camera places the viewer at a distance from these characters, creating the sense that we are peering into their lives rather than actively participating in the journey alongside the protagonist, which situates the audience as voyeurs into their day-to-day routine and its gradual dismantling during the day when the film takes place. For some, this approach is cold and clinical, and can lack the substance to honor the complex components of the narrative, but the director clearly possesses the self-assurance to use this intentional distance as a powerful narrative tool. The approach also massively benefits from the cast, with Fıratoğlu (who also stars in the film) in particular being a fascinating protagonist, playing the part of this man caught between abiding by the law and falling victim to the continuous cycle of abuse and exploitation faced by the working class, or making a bold decision that may stir extreme consequences for him, but improve conditions for those that come after him. It’s often quite brutal and sharply defined, but this only further amplifies the underlying message. The more measured pace and slightly ambiguous conclusion should not be cause for misunderstanding or misinterpretation – One of Those Days When Hemme Dies is a radical work, albeit one that reveals itself in a steady, gradual manner, choosing to approach its themes as a slow burn rather than an explosion. There are many layers to this film, and it takes time to fully understand each one of them. Fıratoğlu weaves a complex depiction of the human condition, which he views as something simultaneously beautiful and savage, and impossible to condense into a single coherent stream of ideas. He takes a concept that could have potentially been overwrought under the wrong approach, and pieces together a harsh but captivating story of revenge and the consequences that exist on both sides of a violent act. The answers to the lingering questions are not always clear, and it can sometimes come across as somewhat frustrating to see how the film meanders at certain points – but by the time we reach the striking conclusion, everything has fallen into place. A strong debut in terms of both narrative and style, One of Those Days When Hemme Dies proves to be an extremely effective blend of social issues and existential ponderings, and firmly establishes Fıratoğlu as an essential new voice in contemporary cinema.

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Venice 2024 review: One of Those Days When Hemme Dies (Murat Fıratoğlu)

People dance at a wedding in the first image of One of Those Days When Hemme Dies by Turkish director Murat Fıratoğlu, presented in the Orizzonti section of Venice 81. A cut takes us away from this fixed, lingering shot to a field covered in an immense white sheet, stained red. There are a myriad of tomatoes, being dried with salt and sun. One of them, Eyüp, is impatient; he hasn't been paid for too long. An argument breaks out, his boss candidly calls him a "son of a bitch." Eyüp can't see anymore. The motorcycle he wants to take home to get a gun, however, jams. He is forced to push it. Arriving in a residential area, two acquaintances of his are sitting at a table and greet him. They invite him to stop and have tea with them. But he's in a hurry. He sets off again, but the motorcycle jams again.

Like the motorcycle, the thriller that One of Those Days When Hemme Dies might seem like from its opening minutes also stalls. And that's a great thing. Because Fıratoğlu's debut and the story of his protagonist (played by himself due to a lack of actors) opens up to a myriad of other films. Starting with the cinema of Elia Suleiman, a clear reference for the entire central section, composed of small, often fixed scenes, where small stories pierce the main narrative line. The motorcycle stalls completely; Eyüp leaves it near a tree to continue on foot. He encounters a fast-talking winemaker who pins him to a table. An elderly uncle walks him home, carrying the watermelon he bought. “Before you leave, cut it up. Eat a piece. You can't leave without eating.” While Eyüp eats a piece of watermelon, his uncle falls asleep.

Glimpses of futile everyday life shatter any pretense in One of Those Days When Hemme Dies, all scrutiny is futile. This simplicity, if looked at at a glance, will remain completely silent, impassive. Eyüp is sitting on a bench, the impasse seems now certified. He stares into space. A man kicks a can abandoned on the ground in front of him. After a couple of steps, he picks it up and puts it back where he found it. A few seconds later, a boy with a plastic gun shoots Eyüp fleetingly (if there's a gun in the story, it must shoot, as Chekhov said), then a little girl interrupts the can's rest by kicking it off-screen. If we accept Murat Fıratoğlu's kind invitation, if we take the time to savor a piece of watermelon or kick a can and resist the incessant rhythm of passing time, something luminous unfolds before our eyes. Paths to poetry, spirituality, peace open up. But only if we surrender to the dance of life, futile, banal, and yet extraordinary.

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One of Those Days When Hemme Dies, la recensione

The film begins with scenes of workers drying tomatoes in the Siverek district of Şanlıurfa. We observe the tomato-drying process in detail, gaining a fair understanding of the process. Because tomato-drying is seasonal, we witness the moments that begin with a quarrel between seasonal worker Eyüp (Murat Fıratoğlu) and his superior, Hemme, but then escalate into a physical altercation, giving the film its theme. The film follows a series of routines that unfold: long walks, casual conversations, and pleasant encounters. We meet all these people through Eyüp's crossing paths. This connection between them actually begins when Eyüp encounters Hemme, the gun he's strapped to his waist, on his way to kill her.

The entire film is built upon Eyüp's encounters with people he knows and the dialogues he engages in. The film's greatest success lies in its authenticity. The story is real, the characters are real, the locations are real, and the costumes are real. The characters are not caricatured; on the contrary, they are ordinary people we often encounter in society. It's safe to say that this genuine story and character development can only be achieved through keen observation.

The director's near-complete mastery of the film's direction and his complete conviction in his work are among the factors that solidify the film's success. For 83 minutes, "One of the Days Hemme Died" doesn't even give the audience a chance to blink. Even in the dialogue-free scenes, boredom is unavoidable; we watch each scene unfold with the knowledge that we'll witness a genuine human routine.

We meet Eyüp on his journey to kill Hemme. We watch him carry an elderly man he doesn't know, stranded in the heat because he can't carry a watermelon, to his home with a slow rhythm. As he travels with the watermelon on his shoulder and the elderly man in his arm, we are convinced that Eyüp is a good person and incapable of killing someone. The dialogue between him and the woman, a childhood friend who comes to the stationery store while we realize she's actually his childhood crush, is heartbreaking. The fact that a simple conversation can touch the heart so deeply inspires us to praise the script's subtleties. In the scene where Eyüp sits on the bench, we can only imagine his thoughts after a day spent like a soda can being tossed around.

The Dynamics of the Film

We see in many scenes that the director references and is influenced by numerous directors. Is this a bad thing? Of course not. Cinema is, above all, a matter of passion. It's impossible to make good films without loving it. Loving cinema, however, begins with the directors of films we admire. Therefore, it's not wrong to create a film without copying it, but simply by emulating and envying it. It's a normal occurrence, especially for someone so early in their career.

The film's dramatic structure is built on solid bricks. The narrative isn't overly complex, the language is simple, and the story is enriched by simple building blocks. The combination of its simple dialogue and familiar human figures makes it feel like another provincial story that has entered our cinematic landscape. However, it may not be for everyone. This film won't please those who dislike long scenes without dialogue, those who can't watch independent cinema, and those who say rural stories aren't for them. But you never know.

The film's title could be considered one of its most interesting factors. It gives the film an identity. Above all, it piques curiosity. It makes one wonder whether the film's title is metaphorical or a reference to reality. It appeals to audiences in many ways and received rave reviews from festival audiences.

The ability to make routines that wouldn't interest anyone follow a flow without blinking an eye… That flow never gets boring… This is the impact One of the Days Hemme Died has on the audience.

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Director/Screenplay: Murat Fıratoğlu

Cast: Salih Taşçıoğlu, Murat Fıratoğlu, Sefer Fıratoğlu, Güneş Sayın, Ali Barkın, Fırat Bozan, Çetin Fıratoğlu

Türkiye / Drama / 83 min.

We learn that Eyüp (Murat Fıratoğlu), the man on whom the story revolves, is from Izmir, unlike the other workers. This is undoubtedly one of the reasons why he's a bit more vocal than the others and demands his rights against the injustices he's faced. We see that Hemme (Salih Taşçı), their leader and employer, hasn't paid their daily wages for a long time and wants to make them work harder than usual. This is precisely where things get out of hand. Just as Eyüp is about to argue with Hemme, the people there stop him. While two or three people try to stop Eyüp, no one stops Hemme. Hemme, meanwhile, says things like, "Let her come." In this scene, we see Hemme's authority over Eyüp. After this scene, Eyüp decides to kill Hemme. However, the path he takes is not what he expected.

Eyüp, wanting to go to his home in Siverek to retrieve his gun, decides to get on his motorcycle and leave. The engine's constant stalling and breakdown along the way serve as a sign that Job shouldn't embark on this journey. Despite the engine stalling repeatedly, when he reaches Siverek, he puts his gun back on his belt, and the story takes a very different turn. Meanwhile, we see that the people in Siverek, like his engine, are also "staggering," hindering Job even if he doesn't do anything. We realize that while Job's day in Siverek may be an unusual day for him, it's just another day for everyone else. In fact, it's one of the days when Job kills the person he wants to kill. Life follows its normal course, and this normality creates obstacles for Job.

The slow narrative that continues throughout the film is particularly evident in Siverek. Many people unconsciously, without any intention, slow Job down. Job's dialogues and his patience in the face of what he experiences remind the audience of the Prophet Job. While all this is happening, the slowing pace transforms the audience into the prophet Job. One of the Days Hemme Died Film Review Arakat Mag Murat Fıratoğlu Ali Barkın Fırat Bozan MUBI

A Film Prone to Different Interpretations

One of the Days Hemme Died is a hybrid film that simultaneously evokes the influence of many directors and cinema from many countries, with its scenes, the character's transformation, its minimalist humor, and its supporting characters.

The slow pace of its story and the cast of amateur actors also reminded me of the Italian Neorealist movement. The films of Vittorio De Sica came to mind as films from this movement. While watching Eyüp, I was particularly reminded of the character's journey in Umberto D. (1952).

When it came to the film's minimal humor, I was reminded of the films of Aki Kaurismaki. Of course, the location choices and cinematography are quite far removed from Kaurismaki's films. But how can a filmgoer not make connections between the texts? It's also a significant film for its use of deadpan humor, a style often seen in Aki Kaurismaki's films and rarely seen in our own cinema.

Perhaps the most significant connection between One of the Days Hemme Died is Iranian cinema. Except for the aesthetic image of tomatoes being shown from the sky at the beginning, we see the oppressiveness and unaesthetic side of the countryside in many of the scenes. In comparison, the minimalist humor within inevitably reminded me of Abbas Kiarostami's films. Furthermore, the character's journey and the transformations along this journey brought to mind the Iranian film Where is the Friend's House? (1987). In this respect, I can say that One of the Days Hemme Died represents the intersection of the aforementioned Italian Neorealism Movement and the cinema of Aki Kaurismaki.

I must say that the film lends itself to interpretation within the context of the "hero's endless journey"—not to mention the cinema of all these countries and directors. One Day Hemme Died is a film that can be further layered and intertextualized with many other films as we reflect on it. One Day Hemme Died Film Review Arakat Mag Murat Fıratoğlu Ali Barkın Fırat Bozan MUBI

A Well-Considered Technique

Murat Fıratoğlu generally doesn't want to draw us closer to Eyüp or the other characters. That's why he and cinematographer Nedim Dedecan generally set the camera far away. Sometimes we see the camera static, with characters entering from the left and exiting from the right, for example. Sometimes we see characters moving away from the camera along the way. In all these scenes, the camera is positioned more as a witness than as a tool. In this respect, we see a film that complements itself with minimalist camera movements that match the film's tempo.

When we look at the film's editing, we see that we are watching an example of slow cinema. Since we're watching a film that doesn't cover a very long period of time, we have a director who also wants to tell it slowly. So much so that even in the scenes where Eyüp occasionally recalls his childhood in Siverek, we see that he remembers his past from where he is, without going back in time.

From this perspective, we see that he doesn't even use flashbacks. Furthermore, the most significant issue with editing is that the camera often doesn't cut. We see that many scenes consist of long-take sequences, and that the editing is based on camera movements. This makes the film a film that requires some patience for unfamiliar cinemagoers.

When we look at the colors used in the scenes, we notice the red accompanying the overall color of the setting, yellow. We see that red continues to haunt Eyüp, starting with the endless tomato display. Even Eyüp's motorcycle is red, and at some point, we notice that many objects around him gradually turn red. One of the Days Hemme Died is an unplanned, unexpected, and quite surprising film in our recent Turkish cinema. It's a very good film, especially considering the director and the cinemas of the country it has established relationships with.

Can Ahmet Çelik


Monday, June 16, 2025

ZOOM Meeting | Do you See Turkish Festival Dreams


A meeting of hearts and minds working to bring Turkish cinema to North America 

On June 11, 2025, at 7 PM EST, fifteen Turkish cinema enthusiasts from across the U.S. and Canada gathered on Zoom to share ideas, challenges, and aspirations around launching Turkish film festivals in North America. 

The meeting was hosted by Mr. Erju Akman, an independent film curator and editor of the Turkish Cinema Newsletter. He introduced special guest Mr. Erkut Gömülü, director of the Boston Turkish Film Festival and founder of the longest continuously running Turkish film festival in the U.S. 

Mr. Gömülü opened the floor by inviting each participant to introduce themselves. What followed was an engaging and inspiring discussion among organizers, curators, and community leaders passionate about Turkish cinema. 

From the Pacific Coast to the shores of Lake Michigan, attendees voiced their concerns—chief among them, the challenge of reaching wider audiences while navigating high distribution costs. 

Mr. Gömülü offered practical advice: start small, focus on selecting compelling films, and grow gradually. In the early years, it’s more important to bring rare, high-quality films to local audiences than to invest in expensive features like celebrity appearances. However, as interest builds, organizers might consider inviting Turkish actors and directors to attend in person. 

He emphasized the importance of setting a realistic, conservative budget and exploring all funding avenues—from grants to sponsorships. Contingency funds are essential for unexpected costs, and any surplus should be reinvested into future festivals. 

Several key topics emerged during the discussion: how to choose the right venues, obtain screening rights, navigate funding sources, and market effectively. For many, the biggest challenge is the limited representation—or misrepresentation—of Turkish culture in mainstream North American media. This presents both an obstacle and an opportunity. 

Reaching a large enough audience to cover costs requires a thoughtful strategy. Mr. Gömülü stressed the importance of passion and persistence. He recommended partnering with existing arts and culture festivals, reaching out to academic institutions, and tapping into university communities. Early collaborations with the Harvard Film Archive and Boston University’s College of Fine Arts were critical to his festival’s success. Later, the addition of short film and documentary competitions helped broaden their reach and promote a more nuanced understanding of Turkey and its people. 

The struggle against stereotypes isn’t unique to the Turkish diaspora, but the specifics are. As seen in the success of Iranian American film festivals, cinematic storytelling can entertain and educate, while shifting public perceptions over time. 

Many participants, themselves immigrants, spoke of a dual goal: reconnecting with their cultural roots while also building bridges within their new communities.  

Mr. Gömülü referenced a recent article by Mr. Akman (Turkish Film Festival Articles.pdf / previously provided ), which outlines cost-saving strategies for festival planning—offering yet another valuable tool for aspiring organizers that can help in budgetary considerations. 

A recurring theme throughout the conversation was collaboration. Boston’s partnerships with local colleges, Seattle’s coordination with other ethnic film festivals, and joint initiatives between regions all underscored the power of working together. 

For example, the Seattle Turkish Film Festival (STFF), led by Mr. Semih Tareen, recently supported a Texas-based team in launching their own festival. Mr. Tareen also advocates inter- community outreach exemplified by his collaboration with the Italian Film Festival in Seattle and extended an open offer to support similar initiatives across North America. 

Mr. Tareen shared Seattle’s approach to building an audience: focus on independent films with socially and politically relevant themes that appeal to the public—not just the Turkish community. Their festival screens both features and shorts and often brings over filmmakers, thanks to cost-effective programming and diligent sourcing of independent funds. In some cases, they’ve even hosted world premieres of rare indie films and regularly feature at least 1 filmmaker of acclaimed shorts. 

An especially innovative move by STFF has been its partnership with the Vancouver Turkish Film Festival (VTFF). By scheduling their festivals back-to-back, films and visiting filmmakers can travel from Seattle to Vancouver, maximizing exposure and minimizing cost-provided visas are secured for both countries. 

Many attendees are active volunteers within larger cultural organizations. The team from California, for example, is preparing to celebrate 50 years of community presence in the Golden state. 

Despite this long-standing history, securing arts funding remains a struggle—particularly for Turkish-focused initiatives. Regional collaboration, such as sharing resources between states and provinces, may offer a path forward. 

The one-hour call flew by, packed with thoughtful insights and a spirit of innovation. There was serious discussion of launching a traveling festival, starting on the West Coast, where groundwork between Seattle and Vancouver is already in place. Others proposed seeking out public-private partnerships and academic collaborations to expand reach and access to the arts. 

With these efforts, there is increased access to beloved content that not only deserve wider reach, but platforming these narratives has the added bonus of shinning a positive light on Turkish cinema created both within the Turkish border and beyond. 

The conversation ended on an optimistic note: while the primary barrier to launching Turkish film festivals remains funding, there are many tested and emerging pathways to success. Veterans like Mr. Gömülü, Mr. Akman, and Mr. Tareen encouraged continued dialogue, mentorship, and cooperation—planting the seeds for a vibrant future for Turkish cinema in North America. 

 

FUTURE ZOOM MEETINGS ARE PLANNED TO BE CONDUCTED IN TURKISH / ALL RELATED CORRESPONDENCE WILL BE IN ENGLISH. 

Ercument  Akman
Washington DC

T: 703 868 4312

E: eackman#gmail.com
maviboncuk.blogspot.com

turkfilm.blogspot.com

Minutes recorded and written by Billie Akman to be issued to all registrants and attendees.


Friday, June 13, 2025

Review: New Turkish Cinema By Olaf Möller

Columns | Books Around: New Turkish Cinema

By Olaf Möller[1]

 "I write regularly for Stadt-Revue, which is something like the Village Voice of my beloved hometown. Then there's film-dienst, the film magazine of the Catholic Church, to which I contribute sometimes more frequently and sometimes less, depending on the mood. Besides that, this daily or that magazine runs something by me, occasionally. But the only magazines I'm tied to rather closely are Film Comment and Cinema Scope. Everything else is just on a more or less piece-by-piece basis."

It was only a matter of time till a bunch of books on Turkish cinema would hit the stores; film-cultural fads work like that. To give things a more positive spin, what’s a passing fancy for many might be a life’s passion for a few who can now, in the tiny window of opportunity opened by hype, realize that one work they always dreamed about. And let’s face it, normally one wouldn’t get a book on Turkish cinema published too easily. (Next up: Romania—wait another two years and see…)

All that said, I’m very, very happy that there are finally a few tomes on Turkish cinema around. Chalk that up to my life and times: I grew up in a working-class neighbourhood of Cologne, which meant living alongside many migrant families, mostly from Turkey—Gastarbeiter, as they were (and sometimes still are) derogatively called. (Good thing that the presumed guests stayed, became residents, etc. and saved us from ourselves.) Anyway, Turkish neighbours and classmates also meant Turkish movies. Step 1: A schoolmate of mine and I watched unsubtitled videos at his family’s apartment (he translated, or at least tried, or probably only pretended to try and instead made up his own dialogue). The pleasures of Turkish entertainment! That unique cinegenie of Cüneyt Arkın and Kartal Tibet!! The soul-soothing absurdity of Çetin İnanç’s The Man Who Saves the World (1982)!!! Bliss. Step 2: Cologne’s now defunct cinematheque began to host the occasional season of Turkish films, the serious stuff above all: the master of masters, Yılmaz Güney. (I also fondly remember a screening of Police [1988], a coarse though smart comedy directed by Güney acolyte Şerif Gören, featuring Garib the parrot.) Step 3: Somewhere during the second half of the ‘90s, Turkish films slowly started to get distributed on a regular basis in German cinemas. An audience of millions wanted to be entertained; a now also defunct Cologne downtown multiplex had one or two screens reserved exclusively for Turkish films, usually subtitled, which allowed me to closely follow the careers of, say, Yavuz Turgul (The Bandit, 1996), Sinan Çetin (Propaganda, 1999), Yılmaz Erdoğan (Vizontele, 2001), and Serdar Akar (Valley of the Wolves—Iraq, 2005).


New Turkish Cinema: Belonging, Identity and Memory

Publisher ‏ : ‎ I.B. Tauris (February 15, 2010)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 224 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1845119509
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1845119508

Asuman Suner Istanbul Technical University Associate Professor 

Turkish Cinema: Identity, Distance and Belonging

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Reaktion Books (November 15, 2008)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 224 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1861893701
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1861893703

Gönül Dönmez-Colin is a film scholar specializing in the cinemas of Central Asia and the Middle East. She is the author of Women, Islam and CinemaCinemas of the Other: A Personal Journey with Filmmakers from the Middle East and Central Asia, and The Cinema of North Africa and the Middle East.

None of these names probably means much to most readers, as they’re key directors of post-Yeşilçam commercial cinema, the kind of stuff that usually doesn’t make the international festival rounds. Sad to say that neither Gönül Dönmez-Colin’s Turkish Cinema: Identity, Distance and Belonging (London: Reaktion Books, 2008) nor Asuman Suner’s New Turkish Cinema: Belonging, Identity and Memory (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2010) is going to change that, even if both try to incorporate them into their essentially art-house-focused-and-driven arguments. Dönmez-Colin’s work might at least entice a few curious souls to start looking for such titles as Akar’s ultra-ambivalent gems On Board (1998) and In the Bar (2006) or Sırrı Süreyya Önder and Muharrem Gülmez’s weird International (2006), while Suner’s book likely won’t lead to pressing demand to see Akar’s Offside (2006) or Çağan Irmak’s My Father and My Son (2005), despite some serious supportive phrases.

As the books’ sub-headings suggest, both are covering more or less the same ground vis-à-vis names and titles: there’s plenty on Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Zeki Demirkubuz, Yeşim Ustaoğlu, and Derviş Zaim, the four low-budget pioneers turned main auteurs of contemporary Turkish art-house cinema; home, migration, and exile in general are discussed, as well as the Deutschländer/Alamancı cinemas in particular; the Kurdish, Greek, and Armenian “questions” are addressed (the latter barely, as there are so few films even acknowledging the existence of Armenians); and then, of course, women and gender. Sorry to sound a bit dismissive but, really, these are the same themes that everybody and his/her/its grandmother routinely fills pages with, which begs the question of whether the books would have appeared at all if they strayed too far outside this familiar turf.

That said, Turkish cinema does invite these kinds of discussions—though what’s more puzzling is that Dönmez-Colin and Suner at times even have the same blind spots. (Let’s only note that neither of them thinks the blatant anti-Semitism of Akar’s Valley of the Wolves is worth considering in depth.) Turkish Cinema: Identity, Distance and Belonging proved to be the more enjoyable and enlightening read, which, to be honest, I didn’t expect, as I’m not exactly a fan of Dönmez-Colin: she always seemed too much the professional engagée to me. Whenever I read her texts I have the distinct impression that she’s supportive of (something that’s incidentally) a film because she thinks it’s good for us; here for once it feels as if she’s talking about carefully selected films that she likes. So even if the themes dealt with and arguments made are fairly generic, it’s still engaging, educational, and at times even fun to follow them through with her. Admittedly, her book has a major advantage over Suner’s: its scope. Dönmez-Colin discusses Turkish cinema in general (even if the last two-plus decades are the centre of her attention), which means that older masters like the venerable Atıf Yılmaz (Oh, Beautiful Istanbul, 1966), the great Ömer Kavur (Istanbul, 1981), or the ever-excellent Erden Kıral (A Season in Hakkari, 1983) are discussed a bit more extensively, while the likes of Lütfi Ömer Akad (Strike the Whore, 1949) and Metin Erksan (Dry Summer, 1963) at least get their due. Best of all, Dönmez-Colin devotes a whole chapter to Yılmaz Güney, and justifiably so considering his ongoing influence on younger directors, above all Ustaoğlu, as well as his pivotal importance for any discussion of Kurdish cinema. The importance of Turkish Cinema: Identity, Distance and Belonging lies in just that: Dönmez-Colin lays out convincingly how today’s Turkish cinema is connected to its past (even if at one point she wonders whether this isn’t a passé way of thinking). In a film-cultural climate where these kinds of developments seem to count less and less, this is an important argument to insist on.

While Dönmez-Colin from time to time references this historian-theorist or that essayist-philosopher, Suner does little else but in New Turkish Cinema: Belonging, Identity and Memory. At least it feels like that. In the first chapters of this very academic read, Suner barely talks about the films as films, i.e., rarely describes an image, analyzes its components, or tries to understand what they mean. Instead, it’s content, content, symbol, content, historic backgrounds of the stories, some more content, and lots of digression-heavy references to all kinds of thinkers old and new; this is useful, of course, but leaves one wanting. Things get a bit more detailed in the chapters devoted to Ceylan and Demirkubuz, but not more interesting: Ceylan is all about home and paradox, Demirkubuz vexingly opaque. Yawn. And then, suddenly, there are a few pages of interest, and they’re devoted to two works by…Fatih Akın, of all people. Yet, what Suner has to say about the music in Head-On (2003) and Crossing the Bridge: The Sound of Istanbul (2005) is worth reading and pondering. Beyond that, the book has little more to offer than the ordinary emptiness of a culture more interested in its own rituals and mores than the subjects they use to express these with—even if one does learn quite a few things.

Let’s recommend, in closing, the Senem Aytaç and Gözde Onaram-edited Young Turkish Cinema (Istanbul: altyazi, 2009). This slim, pleasantly done booklet was published to accompany a program of (mainly) debuts and sophomore efforts presented in Rotterdam at the IFFR and Linz at the Crossing Europe festival; it offers some crisp, well-informed, always personal, often partisan journalistic writing on films that don’t always warrant such generous treatment.

Olaf Moller

Posted in Columns, CS45, From Cinema Scope Magazine

[1] "Olaf Möller  is a freelance writer and programmer based in Cologne and Helsinki. He is a critic for various international film magazines and a consultant for several film festivals. He is an adjunct Professor of Film History and Theory at the School of Arts, Design and Architecture of Aalto University, and has co-written and published a variety of books on cinema." It's a typically modest blurb that appears at the end of innumerable articles for international film magazines but behind it lie countless texts for festival catalogs, regular columns in Cinema Scope and Film Comment (where Möller has also served as a European editor since 2004), annual festival reports.

 from BerlinVeniceRotterdam and Udine, books on filmmakers such as John Cook and Michael Pilz, selection duties for the International Short Film Festival Oberhausen and curatorial work on retrospectives and film programs for the Austrian Film Museum. He also happens to be the Other First Secretary and Minister of Spirituality of the Ferroni Brigade.

There are several qualities that Möller has brought to the proverbial table of film criticism since the beginning of the last decade: a) astute and well-informed writing, with an instantly recognizable style and his own brand of syntax and punctuation, balancing seriousness and humor without lapsing into dry academispeak or empty witticisms; b) unprecedented knowledge of the blind spots of film history and contemporary cinephilia, based on years of indefatigable investigation and championing of the unknown, unseen, ignored and forgotten directors and films; c) a total lack of snobbish territoriality that is all too frequent among some trailblazers; d) contempt for what currently passes as political correctness and politeness, never shying away from strong opinions (some of his favorite targets are cinephilia as a "cult of universal surface," "abstract humanism" and a paternalistic approach to non-Western cultures), even if he occasionally puts off some of his readers and colleagues (no wonder one highly respected Australian critic has called him "Olaf the Mauler"). SOURCE

Interview with Olaf Möller, Part 1 | Interview with Olaf Möller, Part 2

Harvard | Conversation Olaf Möller

Saturday, June 07, 2025

Zeki Demirkubuz | Two Interviews

Director Zeki Demirkubuz and Selim Evci, one of the notable names of independent cinema, came together with moviegoers in a talk held on March 20, 2025, as part of the 21st Akbank Short Film Festival. The directors shared their creative processes in Turkish cinema, the difficulties of short film production, and their own experiences, offering important perspectives to the audience.