A renowned director quietly probes life under Erdogan.
AUGUST 8, 2025, 2:00 PM
FOREIGN POLICY
By Kaya Genc, a novelist and essayist from Istanbul.
Over the past three decades—22 years of it under the rule of Recep Tayyip
Erdogan—Turkey has transformed from a secular society searching for its
spiritual identity to an increasingly self-confident, self-interested, and self-
aggrandizing one. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk’s republican, Europeanizing, old
Turkey has given way to what the governing party has christened “New
Turkey.”
There has been no better chronicler of this transformation than Nuri Bilge
Ceylan. The Turkish auteur, a longtime darling of the Cannes Film Festival,
has never openly referenced politics in his films, but taken together, his body
of work forms one of the most compelling accounts available of what has
become of Turkey under Erdogan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP).
In his films, Ceylan asks what it means to lead an ethical life in Turkey today.
But his protagonists provide unsavory answers, suggesting that doing so may
no longer be possible in this transformed country. Instead, they put on a
frightening display of the values that the AKP has imprinted upon Turkish
society: an unwavering focus on self-interest and self-enrichment, a blindness
to the pains of others, and a consistent disdain for anyone who seeks to lead a
life on ethical lines.
Ceylan’s debut short film, Cocoon (1995), was released just over a year after
Erdogan’s election as Istanbul’s mayor. A former semi-professional football
player, Erdogan made his name as mayor by cleaning up the Golden Horn
waterway and resolving some of the city’s longtime problem areas: water,
2
transportation, air pollution, and waste management. His efficiency in these
matters provided him with enough political capital to begin a broader project
of eroding Turkey’s secular foundations. The outwardly pious leader quietly
banned alcohol from city-run public spaces and injected his speeches with
anti-Western messaging, promising to make Turkey Islamic again.
Cocoon takes place in the rapidly Islamizing Turkey of the 1990s. It opens with
photographs from the 1940s of a married couple, played by Ceylan’s parents.
At that time, they were living in the secular, republican nation-state that
decades of Ataturk’s rigorous political and cultural reforms had built. Viewed
50 years on, they seemed young and hopeful, like remnants of a dying culture
on its last legs.
Ceylan explored this shift in a four-part series.
His feature debut, The Small
Town (1997), tells one town’s story in the mid-1990s through the eyes of
children who often take pleasure in the demise and pain of others. In one
scene, a young boy flips a turtle on its back, believing nobody is watching. The
boy, in a sense, foreshadows the ethos of New Turkey: He lacks guilt or a
recognition of moral failure.
Ceylan’s characters, preoccupied with self-interest and personal gain, embody
the homo economicus model of behavior that proliferated during Turgut
Ozal’s era of neoliberalism. As prime minister (1983-1989) and president
(1989-1993), Ozal sought to insert Turkey into the global economy—a legacy
Erdogan inherited and radically expanded upon. While Reaganism and
Thatcherism swept across the United States and the United Kingdom, Ozal
implemented similar reforms geared toward privatization, deregulation, and
market liberalization. The measures created rapid economic growth in the
short term but came at the cost of rising inequality and suppression of labor
unions. It soon became clear that to succeed in this dog-eat-dog economy,
Turks had to embrace extractive, profit-obsessed means of making a living.
The primary tension at play in The Small Town—and the rest of the
quartet—is between cynicism and idealism.
Ceylan’s nephew, Mehmet Emin
Toprak, plays an idealistic youth named Saffet who dreams of leaving for
Istanbul due to widespread unemployment in rural Anatolia. In Clouds of
May (1999), we see Saffet learn that he has failed his college entry exams—his
only opportunity for leaving provincial Turkey. Saffet’s cousin Muzaffer, who
returns to make a film about his hometown Canakkale, takes advantage of
Saffet’s desperation, overpromising and underdelivering to get what he wants.
In Ceylan’s world, dreamers like Saffet are objects to be extracted, used, and
3
discarded by cynics who know what it takes to survive in harsh economic
conditions.
The cynics and dreamers return in Distant (2002), Ceylan’s first film set in
Istanbul, where Erdogan built his networks before ascending to national
prominence in that year’s general elections. In Ceylan’s films, Istanbul is a
metonym for the self-interested heart of New Turkey. It attracts dreamers
hoping to find better job opportunities, which comes at a moral price.
The final film of the quartet, Climates (2006), offer glimpses of Turkey’s
rapidly changing mid-2000s cultural scene. The film’s protagonist wanders
through the bohemian quarter along rich, bustling thoroughfares and well-
stocked bookshops, and he visits film sets where his partner works in the
booming television drama industry. There is an infectious optimism and
desire for democratic awakening everywhere he goes.
At the time, Turkey really was modernizing. The early 2000s, under the
stewardship of prime minister Erdogan, was an era of individual success
stories, epitomized and glamorized by cultural firsts, such as Sertab Erener,
the first Turkish winner of the Eurovision Song Contest (2003), and Orhan
Pamuk, the first Turkish Nobel Laureate (2006). Star architects and artists
abounded. Turkey’s first modern art museum opened in 2004, in the
neighborhood where Climates takes place.
This flourishing culture was largely financed and publicized by the Turkish
government as part of its strategy to promote tourism. It was the New Turkey
that Erdogan had promised: Unmoored from its foundations as a secularist
social state, the country was increasingly defined by entrepreneurship and
self-sufficiency. Having a good education and strong ethical values would no
longer count as it did in Ataturk’s old Turkey.
In the late 2000s, Turkey’s significant economic growth and relative
prosperity emboldened Erdogan to ignore his democratic pledges and jail his
opponents. Social protests followed in the wake of the high-profile
“Ergenekon” trials, where 275 people, including journalists, military officers,
and opposition lawmakers, were accused of membership to a clandestine
secularist clandestine organization.
Soon cynicism about integrity and the values of Ataturk’s old Turkey—much of
it justified, much of it exaggerated—gave way to a deeper moral rot. As the
state cracked down on dissent, ever more people devised ways to trick others,
as well as themselves, to legitimize and further enrich their selfish lives.
4
The central figure of Winter Sleep (2014), which won the Palme d’Or at
Cannes, is Aydin, a former actor who spends his days walking by ancient ruins
and handpicking mushrooms in Cappadocia but in private is a despot.
One day, the child of the tenant he is trying to evict purposely throws a stone
at Aydin’s Land Rover, shattering the front window. The underprivileged boy
is one of Ceylan’s truth-tellers: equally feared and resented by the cynical
Aydin because of his refusal to play by Aydin’s rules. In another scene, the
boy’s father throws stacks of banknotes that Aydin’s wife has given him as
charity into a fire to show how little he cares for money and its power.
In Ceylan’s universe, idealist Turks are underprivileged and disenfranchised,
but they end up morally on top. They speak truth to those in power even when
it risks financial ruin. In the real world, however, truth tellers in Turkey today
are more likely to be punished for their morals than valorized for them—as
seen in the cases of Osman Kavala and Selahattin
Demirtas, imprisoned because of their efforts for social equality and
democratization.
Ceylan’s last two films head to the countryside outside Istanbul to further
probe the lives of frustrated men. In The Wild Pear Tree (2018), recent college
graduate Sinan tries to navigate Turkey during the mid-2010s economic crisis.
His dreams of becoming a teacher are dashed because of the increased backlog
of education graduates waiting to be appointed to state schools. Reeling from
this disappointment, Sinan jokes that he’d “drop an atomic bomb on this town
if I were a dictator.”
Since the attempted coup in 2016, Erdogan’s regime has been defined by its
highly securitized policies and an inordinate obsession with Turkey’s so-called
internal enemies. Purges of civil servants and mass arrests of opposition
activists and politicians have become commonplace. Sinan’s college friend
advises him to join the riot police, beating Marxists and feminists during
rallies against government oppression in return for a handsome salary. Sinan
laughs at the idea. But he recognizes that he’d be lucky to even land the job of
beating dissidents, given the dour economic climate and severe youth
unemployment bred by Erdogan’s unorthodox economic policies. Like many
in his generation, Sinan feels fated for a life of poverty and unrealized dreams.
Ceylan’s latest film, On Dry Grasses (2023), is the darkest in his oeuvre.
Samet, a teacher, resides in an eastern Anatolian village. Amid worsening
economic conditions, it has become near impossible for middle-class Turks to
travel abroad. Samet tells his students that their education has no point, as
5
they’ll all die in their hometowns with no experience or knowledge of other
parts of the world. Instead of fostering friendships with locals, Samet
befriends a military commander overseeing the town. They wile away their
time playing video games and complaining about locals.
It’s an indictment of Erdogan’s broken promises to make Turkey a more
prosperous and less isolated country, one that would join the European Union
and be tied to the West. From the mid-2010s onwards, Erdogan has instead
used his public speeches to antagonize the West and stoke resentment among
his base.
In all his films, Ceylan captures Turkey’s shift from a forward-looking,
potentially democratic country in the mid-2000s to a burgeoning autocracy in
the mid-2010s, where cynicism is the last refuge for many. There is no hope
for Muzaffer the director, Aydin the actor, or Samet the teacher, as they feel
they can no longer lead a fulfilling, ethical existence. The country’s financial
collapse has gone hand-in-hand with a loss of belief in any meaningful sense
of a good life; the only option available is to mock those whose lives retain
hope and higher purpose.
“When I make movies, I try to be as realistic as possible,” Ceylan said earlier
this year at Amsterdam’s Eye Film Museum. He was there for an exhibition
titled “Inner Landscapes,” which offered viewers a chance to see his entire
oeuvre anew.
As they map the inner landscapes of a wide range of Turkish characters,
Ceylan’s films never openly reference Turkish politics. Yet in recent years,
their crews and casts have begun speaking out against Erdogan’s policies in
public. In 2014, Ceylan dedicated his Palme d’Or to the young people of
Turkey, especially those killed during anti-government protests the previous
year. In 2015, he joined more than 100 filmmakers who published a letter
accusing the Turkish government of “oppression and censorship.”
Ceylan’s actors have also been subject to the country’s increasing illiberalism.
Nadir Saribacak of Winter Sleep moved abroad after a pro-government
broadcaster cut off his speech at the 2015 Antalya Film Festival in which he
said, “I have problems related to the country,” and proclaimed his love for
friends “from different religions, languages, races, sects.” In February, Melisa
Sozen, also from Winter Sleep, was questioned by Turkish police on suspicion
of “promoting terrorist propaganda.”
6
Though he does make occasional public pronouncements, Ceylan largely lets
his work do the speaking for him. His films show how people from all walks of
life can justify choices that lead to injustice and violence, cynically accepting
that it’s human nature to act in pursuit of self-interest.
In recent months, this is what the Turkish people have been asked to
do—mind their own business as the Turkish government arrested the mayor of
Istanbul, Ekrem Imamoglu, whose politics of hope and social democratic
ideals have run against the prevalent cynicism and opportunism of New
Turkey. In prosecuting Imamoglu and a growing number of elected
administrators of other major Turkish cities on charges of corruption, the
government is attempting to solidify the cynicism at the crux of its ideology:
There’s no use in seeking moral purity, since only the powerful and the
ruthless survive in today’s Turkey.
This post appeared in the FP Weekend newsletter, a weekly showcase of book
reviews, deep dives, and features.
Kaya Genc is a novelist and essayist from Istanbul. He is the author, most recently, of The Lion
and the Nightingale: A Journey Through Modern Turkey.
2025 Film Festival watch for Turkish Films began at 44th Istanbul Film
Festival 11-22 April 2025. All have been co production or foreign products.
An Iranian director helmed a film made on location in Türkiye.
When first
and second tier film festivals roll around some programmers can program new
Turkish films. Cannes was a pass. Venice and Toronto so far announced none. A
sure thing is to follow national festivals like Adana, Antalya, and Ankara
Festivals as part of their international format.
North
American Turkish Film Festivals might pick new films offering a premiere
screening.
Here is
round up recent festivals where Turkish films were screened.
Tallinn
Black Nights (November 11- 24, 2024, Estonia)
EMPIRE OF
THE RABBITS / TAVŞAN İMPARATORLUĞU Seyfettin Tokmak | TÜRKİYE,
MEXICO, CROATIA
Somewhere in
rural Turkey, 12-year-old Musa has recently lost his mother, and his father
Beko is now insisting that the boy join other local boys in pretending to be
disabled and attending a special needs school a money-making scheme designed to
cheat the state of disability funding run by Beko’s criminal boss Muzaffer He
also runs an illegal greyhound race, with Beko providing the rabbits for prey
while he learns the tricks of playing a cripple from Muzaffer’s young daughter Nergis.
As the suppression of their adult world increases, Musa rescues her into his
dream of a rabbit empire founded in an old mine.
AND THE
REST WILL FOLLOW / O
DA BİR ŞEY Mİ
Pelin Esmer | TÜRKİYE, BULGARIA, ROMANIA
Celebrated film director Levent, the guest of honor at a Film Festival, is
completely unaware of Aliye, a twenty-something housekeeper at the hotel where
he is staying. But Aliye, who is trying to make a new life for herself, knows
Levent and his films very well. Aliye’s intriguing story brings together these
two distant people with completely different lives.
Kadir, a
meatball vendor, discovers that he can realize his long-standing desire to fly
thanks to a paramotor, a powered parachute. From that moment on, he starts to practice
hopefully and tirelessly. His extraordinary dream is considered utterly odd,
provocative, and even causes him to be heavily criticized. Kadir does not give
up on his dream and his passion for gliding in the sky.
Director
Rezan Yeşilbaş’s feature debut had its world premiere in IFFR’s Bright
Future section.
THE
SHIPWRECKED TRIPTYCH
Deniz Eroğlu | GERMANY
Told through
an experimental structure spanning three different time periods, the film
follows the echoes of a maritime disaster across centuries. Using time and
space as layered elements, it offers a philosophical meditation on how human
memory is shaped—and lost.
THE
THINGS YOU KILL / ÖLDÜRDÜĞÜN
ŞEYLER
Alireza Khatami | TÜRKİYE, FRANCE, POLAND, CANADA
Iranian filmmaker Alireza Khatami wrote, directed, and co-produced The Things
You Kill, which premiered at Sundance Film Festival.
Haunted by
the suspicious death of his ailing mother, a university professor coerces his
enigmatic gardener to execute a cold-blooded act of vengeance. But as his
family and the authorities investigate the old man’s disappearance, Ali begins
to doubt the rightness of his actions.
BERLINALE
(February 13-23, 2025, Germany)
CONFIDENTE Çağla Zencirci & Guillaume Giovanetti | TÜRKİYE, FRANCE,
LUXEMBOURG
Set in
Ankara in 1999, the film follows Arzu, a young woman who makes a living working
at an erotic call center. As she crafts a fictional persona to comfort
strangers each night, she finds herself unexpectedly drawn into a real-life
mystery.
HYSTERIA
Mehmet Akif Büyükatalay | GERMANY, TÜRKİYE
During a high-budget film production in
Berlin, a scene involving the burning of the Quran sparks an immediate crisis,
throwing the set into chaos. As the search for those responsible intensifies,
an intern named Elif discovers the existence of a covert group with hidden
motives. She soon finds herself entangled in a growing web of danger where no
one is as they seem.
Istanbul
Film Festival (April 11-22, 2025, Türkiye)
THE
SHALLOW TALE OF A WRITER WHO DECIDED TO WRITE ABOUT A SERIAL KILLER
Tolga Karaçelik USA
Keane, a struggling writer during a divorce, befriends a bizarre man who claims
to be Keane’s biggest fan and a retired serial killer. He tries to persuade a
very drunk Keane to write about him and incidentally becomes his marriage
counsellor when he meets Keane’s wife.
Tolga
Karaçelik’s, dark comedy had its world premiere at Spotlight Narrative Section
at Tribeca Film Festival.
HYSTERIA| Mehmet Akif
Büyükatalay | GERMANY
Büyükatalay’s second feature starts with the filming of a provocative feature
about the xenophobic arson attacks on German migrant residences in the 1990s.
When a genuine Quran goes up in flames during the shooting, the incident
infuriates everyone on set, fingers are pointed at the Turkish German director,
making accusations of racism. Caught in this confrontational crossfire is
production intern, Elif, who soon realizes that everybody involved has layered
motivations and agendas at play.
The film had
its premiere at the Panorama section of the 2025 Berlinale.
IDEA| Tayfun Pirselimoğlu |
TÜRKİYE, ROMANIA, FRANCE
Kemal works as a guard in a villa belonging to a shady businessman. One day,
late at night when he is on the bus, a peculiar man gets on, sits nearby,
leaves a book on his seat, and gets off. Kemal aimlessly browses through the
pages of the book titled IDEA and puts it back down. His life turns into living
hell after that night.
NEW DAWN
FADES / YENİ
ŞAFAK SOLARKEN
Gürcan Keltek TÜRKİYE, ITALY, GERMANY, NORWAY, THE NETHERLANDS
It has been
years since Akın has been in and out of the hospital. He is relentless, angry,
and shell-shocked from being stuck in the system. Since his most recent
discharge, he is now aware that his old life is long gone. He has become unable
to leave his family house except for occasional visits to religious monuments
in Istanbul and falls into a state of ecstasy as he tries to take refuge in
God.
New Dawn
Fades had its world premiere at Locarno Film Festival.
Filiz, a
young, working mother, struggles with postpartum depression. Seeking moments of
escape, she sets out to buy ‘a car of her own.’ Along the way, Filiz meets
Şule, and her search for a car turns into an unexpected bond, offering both
women a chance at solidarity.
THE
THINGS YOU KILL / ÖLDÜRDÜĞÜN
ŞEYLER
Alireza Khatami | TÜRKİYE, FRANCE, POLAND, CANADA
AND THE
REST WILL FOLLOW / O
DA BİR ŞEY Mİ
Director: Pelin Esmer TÜRKİYE, BULGARIA, ROMANIA
And the Rest Will Follow had its world premiere at Rotterdam Film Festival.
Books: New Cinema of Turkey Nowe Kino Turcji Ed. Jan Topolski [1]
Publisher : ha!art
Publication date : 1 Jan. 2010
Edition : 1st
Language : Polish
Print length : 256 pages
ISBN-10 : 8361407715
ISBN-13 : 978-8361407713
New Cinema of Turkey is an anthology of texts by Turkish, German, English and Polish film critics and experts illustrated with photos from films and directors’ photographs. Limited by themes and connected with works and artists presented at the 10th IFF Era New Horizons. The book joins two perspectives, of Western authors who reveal Turkish cinematography to them and of Turkish authors who make an attempt to describe it anew. Articles touch upon social relationships (with particular attention to the figure of a woman, a child and a father/husband), transformations in religion and culture under the influence of industrialization and Westernization, the opposition of provinces and the metropolis, and the presence of history and politics. They show how new Turkish cinema interprets classic genres; they try to provide its stylistic specificity; they look for auteur poetics. The anthology discusses the work of such filmmakers as Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Zeki Demirkubuz, Derviş Zaim, Yeşim Ustaoğlu, Semih Kaplanoğlu, Reha Erdem, Umit Ünal and Kazim Öz.
TOP 20 Filmy tureckie by Agnieszka Czarkowska-Krupa[2]
12. Lęk przed Bogiem (Takva,
2006) – reż. Ozer Kiziltan
13. Jak się kręci lody (Dondurmam
Gaymak, 2006) – reż. Yuksel Aksu
16. Zimowy sen (Kis Uykusu, 2014)
– Nuri Bilge Ceylan
17. Spłonie, kto najbliżej ognia stoi (Atesin
düstügü yer, 2012) – Ismail Gunes
18. Otchłań: gdzieś pomiędzy (Araf,
2012) – Yeşim Ustaoğlu
19. Sen motyla (Kelebeğin Rüyası, 2013)
– Yilmaz Erdogan
20. Mustang (2015) – Deniz Gamze Erguven
[1] Jan Topolski (1982) – musicologist, also studied philosophy at the University of Warsaw. As a music and film critic, he collaborates with media outlets such as "Kino," "Ruch Muzyczny," "Dwutygodnik," "Tygodnik Powszechny," Polish Radio's Second Program, "MusikTexte," and "neue musikzeitung." He was co-founder and, from 2004 to 2011, editor-in-chief of "Glissanda," the only Polish magazine devoted to contemporary music. Since 2010, he has been a consultant to Mariusz Treliński, artistic director of the Teatr Wielki – Polish National Opera, on contemporary opera and commissions from Polish composers. Author of the first Polish monograph on one of the most important composers of the 20th century, Gerard Grisey, entitled "Phantoms and Times. The Music of Gerard Grisey."
[2]Agnieszka Czarkowska-KrupaEditor-in-Chief and Publisher of the Oldcamera.pl website, PhD in Humanities from the Jagiellonian University, author of "Parabolicity in Polish Historical Prose 1956–1989" (Semper, 2014). Co-author and editor of "Faces and Masks. The Last Great Lovers of Cinema" (E-bookowo, 2021). A lover of cinema and literature, she has written for the collective books "The Subject in Polish Literature after 1989. Anthropological Aspects of Construction," edited by Żaneta Nalewajk (Elipsa, 2011) and "Ethics and Literature," edited by Anna Głąb (Semper, 2014). She has published prestigious articles for the Polish Academy of Sciences ("Ruch Literacki"), and articles in scholarly journals ("Tekstualia," "Zeszyty Naukowe KUL"), art periodicals ("FA-art"), and online portals. She worked as an academic lecturer at the Institute of Media and Journalism at the University of Theology and Humanities, where she also served as a supervisor and reviewer of graduate theses. In her private life, she is the mother of Sebastian and Olga.
Snow and the Bearwas produced by Nefes Films and Albino Zebra Films in Turkey, and co-produced byRiva Filmin Germany andSet Sailin Serbia. International sales are handled byArtHood Entertainment.
"Snow and the Bear" was shot in the Şavşat region of Artvin. Having its Turkish premiere at the 59th Antalya Golden Orange Film Festival and returning with Best First Film and Best Actress awards, "Snow and the Bear" won the New Directors Award at the 66th San Francisco International Film Festival, one of America's most established festivals.
Review
In a remote rural region during a seemingly never-ending winter in one of Turkey’s eastern provinces, a young and self-assured nurse from the capital named Aslı (Merve Dizdar) is appointed to an obligatory post. Roads to the outside are blocked and, as the mounting precipitation increasingly segregates the population from the outside, tales begin to spread about bears rousing from wintersleep and encroaching upon the town.
One long and dreary night, Hasan (Erkan Bektaş) — a local known for his drunkenness, infidelity, and troublemaking — suddenly disappears, further fuelling the town’s rumour mill. Some believe Hasan was eaten by a bear, while others point their fingers at Samet (Saygın Soysal), who’d recently butted heads with the missing party. Soon, a manhunt for the sin-bearing creature ensues and Aslı is buried in an avalanche of local politics and power dynamics. Confronted with the unknown, she must thaw and reach within herself to uncover whether she has what it takes to survive such conditions.
Snow and the Bear is the debut feature of writer-director Selcen Ergun, whose acute and wide-awake direction emphasizes the undertones of a rigid patriarchal society while brilliantly setting the atmosphere for this anti-fairy tale. Her clear vision unveils subtle subversion and presents an unlikely heroine in Dizdar, whose niveous gaze and temperate performance as Aslı inches beyond the snowscape. Shot through Florent Herry’s careful lens, paired with a subtle score by Erdem Helvacıoğlu, Snow and the Bear is a metaphor for living under increased scrutiny and insecurity, a mounting reality for women around the world where violence has become increasingly systematic and preserved.
DOROTA LECH
Snow and the Bear the first feature by Turkish director Selcen Ergun, presented in world premiere in the Discovery section at Toronto and now winner of the Cineuropa Award at the Brussels Mediterranean Film Festival, asks itself a question: of what could bears be guilty of? Asli (Merve Dizdar), a young city nurse, is sent for a compulsory service to a small isolated village, in the farthest reaches of Turkey, a place that seems asleep in an endless winter. A thick layer of snow covers the souls as well as the lands. But under the snow, unspeakable secrets hibernate, which plant doubt and suspicion in the villagers. While naming the culprit(s) could well bring down many supposedly honest citizens, the bears stand out as the perfect atoning culprits for all.
We quickly understand that Asli doesn’t have to be there; her father, who doesnt accept her decision, has offered and still offers to find her a job elsewhere, closer to the city, far from this mysterious community where dissent is rife. Arriving in the hamlet like a hair in the soup, she casts her sharp foreign eye on the habits of the villagers, steeped in patriarchal traditions. She will try to integrate herself amongst these silent families, doing her best to help them, offering her medical knowledge despite some reticence. But while the worrisome shadow of the bears that are said to have come out of hibernation very hungry during the abnormally long winter hangs over the village, the disappearance of one of the pillars of the community will exacerbate tensions and awaken resentments. But aren’t the villagers a little too quick to sell the skin of the bear and blame it for Hassan’s murder?
Snow and the Bear begins like a horror film – a young woman alone runs into a stranger after a car accident on a deserted and snowy road –, evokes fairy tales with its title and its mysterious forest, and asks for a more metaphorical and political reading with its catchphrase: “To all those who hope for the fall of this endless winter.” This endless winter is the one that suffocates the village, but also the one that falls like a leaden curtain on Turkish women, confined and oppressed, like Asli and her peers. This hushed drama, in which feelings are boiling up, contained but ready to explode at any moment, portrays the determination of a character caught in a whirlwind of internal struggles and power games, who will find her inner strength to overcome the obstacles.
TIFF REVIEW
Snow and the Bearpremiered at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival.
Asli (Merve Dizdar) didn’t have to come. It doesn’t matter that her compulsory assignment as a nurse was to be stationed in a small Turkish village in the middle of nowhere. Her father had strings to pull to get her reassigned. The reason she went anyway isn’t about not wanting to cheat the system like her parents think when they blame “stubbornness” as the cause of their fear for her safety due to blizzards and bear attacks. It’s because Asli doesn’t want to feel as though she needs protection. She doesn’t. She’s an adult woman who understands all too well the implicit patriarchal demand for compensation that comes with good deeds—that sense of feeling trapped, always owing. She’s tired of not being respected and having no control.
It’s that sense of always being on alert that drove director Selcen Ergun to make Snow and the Bear. During a post-screening Q&A she said this feeling sparked the process before her thoughts about humanity’s treatment of nature helped her and co-writer Yesim Aslan bolster the suspense for how that fear could be augmented by the overarching philosophy of mankind’s need to bend over backwards to blame someone (or something) else rather than own up to their own responsibility. It’s therefore only natural for Asli to be angry when the townsfolk disregard her medical advice while the doctor is stranded in snow a town over. And for her to panic in response to the unyielding aggressive entitlement and hospitality supplied to her upon arrival.
What happens as a result, while tragic, is therefore an accident. Ever since Asli came to town, the residents have warned her about going places alone. They assume she’ll get lost or that the relative of a bear killed earlier in the year by local butcher Hasan (Erkan Bektas) will attack. The only danger she actually finds, though, is them. They’re the ones skulking in the dark, popping up everywhere she turns. They’re the ones quick to dismiss her as an outsider who both doesn’t understand their strength against the elements and is too weak to match that constitution when she dares to act autonomously. So it’s impossible to know who to trust and even more impossible to bestow any benefit of the doubt. She’s in foreign territory.
Can she trust Hasan? The womanizer who “knows what’s best” when making his pregnant wife (Asiye Dinçsoy’s Cemile), who’s prescribed bedrest so as not to lose the baby or her own life, work the shop on her feet? How about Samet (Saygın Soysal)? The kind soul everyone treats like a simpleton who’s never far away when Asli needs assistance? Mahmut (Muttalip Müjdeci) proves the likeliest ally as de facto town elder with a finger on the pulse of everything that goes on inside the village. He attempts to even facilitate a truce between those other two after a tricky situation causes the neighborhood to mistrust each other. Samet turned Hasan in when he killed a bear because they’re protected by the government. And now the village is cursed.
When Hasan goes missing, the rumor mill accordingly swirls. Did he abandon his family again? Did Samet murder him after an escalation of their rift? Did the other bear whispers have been saying is coming near enact revenge for the murder of its kin? Every conclusion imaginable is put on the table; each one is feasible depending on who you ask. Shouldn’t “accident” be the top assumption, though? Shouldn’t everyone be innocent until proven guilty? In a perfect world, maybe. But anyone telling you we live in one is lying. The result is thus a tense escalation of danger with Asli caught in the middle. She’s theoretically an objective observer—except, of course, she’s also a woman. She cannot afford to pretend any of them is innocent.
What’s great about Ergun’s pressure cooker in sub-zero temperatures is that she shouldn’t be able to pretend she’s innocent either. Snow and the Bear is structured in such a way that even Asli could be the reason Hasan disappeared. Just as she can’t trust those around her to not be the cause, however, she can’t trust them not to turn on her if she was. Because who’s she to them? Nobody. They already don’t want to listen to her diagnoses, why would they listen to her when she says there was no intent to injure in her actions? Suddenly all the people who saw each other out that night are as much each other’s alibi as each other’s executioner. It’s why blaming the bear solves all their worries.
It’s what we do. Pass the buck. We lord our superiority over nature in one breath and deny we have the power to change it in the next. Men do the same to women, seeking to dominate and steal their power before blaming them for daring to think they could possess it in the first place. We create enemies in order to absolve ourselves of guilt, knowing full well that we’re the ones who manufactured the conditions that force them to fight back. Survival perpetually becomes paramount to truth. Even more so when you’re isolated in the dark with nowhere else to turn. That’s where Asli exists (uncertain what man will accost her in the street). Same with Samet (the town pariah blamed for everything) and the bear.
Ergun presents it with the harsh sound of wind whipping through apparently serene landscapes that hide the potential for violence we all know exists regardless of evidence. And those with the most to lose prove to be those with the answers the others seek. Do they speak or stay silent? Put yourself in their shoes and register your impulse. Pay attention to the details of the circumstances, too—some of these characters confront an almost identical situation twice with opposite responses. The reasons are valid too since we live in nuance. Dizdar and Soysal brilliantly deliver what that means via complex performances breathing life into morally imperfect people reconciling the prejudices held against them with the difference between wrong and right. Nothing is ever black-and-white.
Turkish Cinema never widely captured film market unless a well-connected
European distributer has the rights or proven auteur Nuri Bilge Ceylan makes his
next film.
Turkish films are rarely present in ‘Main Competition Selection’
of major film festivals save second-tier competition programs for first films
or up and coming talent mainly catering to Art House audiences usually produced
with multi country co-productions.
Opportunities are limited for making films that appeal to
festival programmers. The support provided by the Ministry of Culture to the
cinema industry nearly doubled in 2024, only reaching 2.4 million US dollars divided
between 22 projects in feature, co-production and post-production. It is a
small amount at par with Nasreddin Hodja adding yeast into a lake hoping to
make yogurt. However, there are other small and successful funds with a proven record.
Application
Deadline Announced
Applications are now open for The Germany-Turkey
Co-Production Development Fund, established in 2011 by the Istanbul Foundation
for Culture and Arts (İKSV), with the support of Anadolu Efes, as part of the
Istanbul Film Festival, in collaboration with Medienboard Berlin-Brandenburg and
the Hamburg Schleswig-Holstein Film Fund, will be held for the 15th time this
year. The fund, launched to support feature-length co-production projects
between Germany and Turkey, is open to all feature-length German Turkish
co-productions that have not yet begun filming.
The fund aims to support feature-length co-productions and
cultural exchange between the two countries. This fund is still a valuable
resource for encouraging new voices and expanding the boundaries of
international co-productions. The fund is small and has provided only a total
of €1,096,000 in support until this year in total to bring original cinematic
stories to the screen.
The rules
and regulations of the "Germany-Turkey Co-Production Development
Fund and Application
form are available for the 2025 cycle. And questions can be sent to:
onthebridge@iksv.org
A Fund
with Results
No matter how small, the fund’s financial support for of the
67 films gained a place and recognition by premiering at festivals such as:
Kız Kardeşler (Sisters) (Emin Alper) Berlinale Main Competition.
The Album (Mehmetcan Mertoğlu) Cannes Film Festival Critics' Week.
Ansızın (Aslı Özge) Berlinale Panorama.
Until My Breath Stops (Emine Emel Balcı) Berlinale the Forum.
The Blue Bicycle (Ümit Köreken) Berlinale Generation
Sesime Gel (Hüseyin Karabey) Berlinale Generation.
My Father's Wings (Kivanç Sezer) Karlovy Vary Film Festival Main
Competition.
Kardeşler (Ömür Atay) Karlovy Vary Film Festival Main Competition.
Bir Nefes Daha (Nisan Dağ) Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.
Zuhal (Nazlı Elif Durlu) Antalya Golden Orange Film Festival.
Les Enfants Teribles (Ahmet Necdet Cupur) Visions du Reel.
Ela and Hilmi and Ali (Ziya Demirel) the Istanbul Film Festival winning four
awards, Snow and the Bear (Selcen Ergun) Toronto Film Festival
Yurt (Nehir Tuna) Venice Film Festival.
A name who argued that one cannot be universal without being national, who responded to those who said, “Cinema is a festival,” that “Cinema is a culture,” who maintained his independence despite everything as a dissenting intellectual, who could also be a director who provoked discussion and debate with his writings on cinema, was made to pay the price for not cooperating, for standing in a contradictory position with his thought and cinema, for declaring certain film circles the “Istanbul Culture Mafia” in a country where creativity is taken over by the concept of rationality, and thus was rendered unable to make films in Yeşilçam before reaching the age of fifty.
The speech he delivered in 2004 upon receiving the Ministry of Culture and Tourism's Grand Prize for Culture and Arts from the President reflected the sorrow of a combative, ill-tempered director, an intellectual, a lonely man whose cinema had not been understood and had not found the recognition it deserved: "Throughout my life, I have never been a member of any organization or association other than the Cinema Workers' Union and the Cinema Directors' Association, which I founded. I have never been a supporter, advocate, or defender of any ideology or ism. Even though I have never encountered a positive attitude from any government, I have never been resentful of my state or my nation."
(...)1947’den bu yana gazetelerde ve dergilerde sinema makaleleri yazan, üniversite öğrencisi olduğu 1950’de Yusuf Ziya Ortaç’ın “Binnaz” adlı eserini senaryolaştırarak sinemaya adım atan, “Kamera” müstear adıyla Dünya gazetesinde film eleştirileri yazdığı 1952’de, ilk filmi “Aşık Veysel’in Hayatı-Karanlık Dünya”yı çeken, Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu’nun yazdığı senaryonun çekiminde, tamamı TKP’li olan bir oyuncu kadrosu oluşturan, ilk filmiyle sansürün gazabına uğrayan ‘bir isim’di.
Peyami Safa’nın “Server Bedii” takma adıyla yazdığı “Beyaz Cehennem”i, Halide Edip Adıvar’ın “Yol Palas Cinayeti”ni sinemaya uyarlayan, ömrü boyunca Türk Edebiyatı’nın önemli metinlerini senaryolaştırma çalışmalarından vazgeçmeyen de O’ydu…
’50′li yıllarda birçok sinemacı ve entelektüelin burun kıvırdığı Osmanlı’yı bir sosyolog titizliğiyle incelediği “Dokuz Dağın Efesi”ni Türk Sineması’na armağan eden; setlerde sigara paketlerine senaryo yazılan yıllarda akademisyen titizliğiyle, uzun araştırmalar sonucu yazdığı metinlere hayat veren, neredeyse çektiği tüm filmlerin senaryosunu kendisi yazan da ‘bir isim’di.
Türk Sinema Sanatçıları Derneği’nin kurulmasına öncülük eden, Türkiye Sinema İşçileri Sendikası’nı ve Film Rejisörleri Derneği’ni kuran, kurulma aşamasında destekleyip arşivinin oluşturulmasına katkıda bulunduğu İDGSA Sinema-TV Enstitüsü’nde -Türkiye’de ilk sinema eğitimini bu kurum verdi- “Sinema Kuramı” dersleri veren de O’ydu…
Şoför Nebahat, Mahalle Arkadaşları, Hicran Yarası, Çifte Kumrular, Sahte Nikah, Ateşli Çingene, Feride, Hicran, Makber, Keloğlan ve Can Kız, İstanbul Kaldırımları, Süreyya, Dağdan İnme gibi ticari filmler bir yana; William Peter Blatty’nin yazıldığı dönemde bestseller olan romanından uyarlayıp teknik imkansızlıklar içinde çektiği gerçek anlamda ilk Türk korku filmi “Şeytan” bir yana; gösterime girdiği yıllarda anlaşılamayıp yıllar sonra “başyapıt” olduğuna hükmedilen “Kuyu” bir yana; imza atma cesareti gösterdiği Türk Sineması’nın en ilginç deneysel filmi Kadın Hamlet bir yana; sinema tarihimizin ilk toplumsal gerçekçi filmi “Gecelerin Ötesi”ni, sansür karşısında verdiği mücadeleden zaferle çıkarak “Yılanların Öcü”nü izleyicisiyle buluşturan; “Acı Hayat” filmi sonraki yıllarda başka yönetmenlerce de tekrar tekrar çekilen, “Suçlular Aramızda” ile seyircisine beylik sinema kalıplarının, klişeleşmiş metaforların ötesinde bir dünya sunan ‘bir isim’di.
Dünyaya Türk Sineması’nın varolduğunu duyuran “Susuz Yaz"da, adı hiç duyulmamış oyuncularla çalışıp star sistemini yerle bir eden, sinemamıza ilk uluslararası ödülü kazandıran, 1965 seçimlerinde TİP listesinden İstanbul Bağımsız Milletvekili adayı olan; kısacası Türkiye’nin temel siyasal düşünce doğrultusu ile hiçbir zaman uyumlu olmayan da O’ydu.
Oyunun ilk perdesinde olan ise şuydu: Daha 1 yıl önce, 35 yaşında ülkesine ilk uluslararası ödülü kazandıran rejisör, başladığı filmi bitirebilmek için ev eşyalarına varıncaya dek satmış, nihayet filmi tamamladığında gösterecek sinema salonu bulamamıştı. Birkaç özel gösterimde kısıtlı bir izleyiciye sunulabilen “Sevmek Zamanı”na, Türk sinema çevrelerinde “psikiyatrik bir vaka” diyenler de olmuştu, “başyapıt” diyenler de… (Fransız sinema tarihçisi Sadoul, sinemada sert bir sınıf çatışmasının en net göründüğü metin olarak Sevmek Zamanı’nı göstermişti.) Filmi değerlendirme konusunda fikir ayrılığına düşenler, “Bu film toplumsal sorunları çözme, Türk Sineması’na yeni bir şeyler getirme gibi savlardan uzak, sadece insanın dramını anlatmaktadır” diyen, “Yalnız kendim için film çekerim” sözleriyle meydan okuyan yönetmeni kınama konusunda hemfikirdiler. Ne de olsa toplumcu fikirler modaydı, varsın o yönetmen sinemada siyasetin esamesi okunmazken, TKP’li oyuncularla çektiği filmi sansüre ve yapımcıların insafına kurban versin; varsın ilk toplumcu-gerçekçi Türk filmini yapsın, varsın dünyanın en saygın-en önemli sinema ödülünü alsın… “Kendi için film çekmek”, sonradan sinemacıların diline pelesenk olurken; siyasette de, sanatta da toplumunun önünden gitmenin talihsizliğini yaşayan ‘bir isim’di.
Milli olunmadan evrensel olunamayacağını savunan, “Sinema bir şenliktir” diyenlere, “Sinema bir kültürdür” cevabını veren, muhalif bir aydın olarak her şeye rağmen bağımsızlığını koruyan, sinema üzerine yazılarıyla da tartışan- tartıştıran bir yönetmen olabilen ‘bir isim’e; yaratıcılığın rasyonellik kavramıyla teslim alındığı bir ülkede, işbirliği yapmamanın, düşünce ve sinemasıyla aykırı bir yerde durmanın, bazı sinema çevrelerini “İstanbul Kültür Mafyası” ilan etmenin bedeli böyle ödetilmiş, ellisine varmadan Yeşilçam’da film yapamaz hale getirilmişti.
Sinema filmi çekemediği yıllarda; Sait Faik Abasıyanık, Kenan Hulusi, Samet Ağaoğlu, Sabahattin Ali ve Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar’ın birer hikayesini TRT için filme aldığında; çok sevdiği tutku, saplantı temaları üzerinde yoğunlaşan ve ağır temposu seyirci tarafından anlaşılamayan bu filmler, tartışmalara yol açmıştı. Ve tartışmalar, ‘bir isim’in, “Kemal Tahir’den sonra Türk Edebiyatı ancak kese kağıdı olur” sözüne karşılık, TYS Genel Başkanı Aziz Nesin’in, “ …’in düşünme ve yaratma özgürlüğü elinden alınmalıdır” açıklamasıyla son bulmuş, perde işte böyle kapanmıştı. Gelin görün ki, ‘bir isim’, sinema yap(a)madığı zamanlarda da, sinema üzerine, Türkiye üzerine düşünmeye devam etti. “Atatürk Filmi”, “Avrupa Topluluğu”, “Türk-Yunan İlişkileri” kitaplarını yazdı. Tartışılan bir aydın ve yönetmen olmayı sürdürdü.
2004’te Kültür ve Turizm Bakanlığı’nın Kültür ve Sanat Büyük Ödülü’nü Cumhurbaşkanı’nın elinden alırken yaptığı konuşma, sineması anlaşılamamış ve hak ettiği yeri bulamamış kavgacı, hırçın bir yönetmenin, entelektüel bir aydının, yalnız bir adamın hüznünü yansıtıyordu: “Hayatım boyunca kendi kurduğum Sinema İşçileri Sendikası ve Sinema Yönetmenleri Derneği dışında hiçbir örgüte, derneğe üye olmadım. Hiçbir ideoloji, hiçbir izm yanlısı, yandaşı, savunucusu da olmadım. Hiçbir hükümet tarafından olumlu bir tutumla karşılaşmamış olsam dahi, devletime ve milletime küsmedim.”
Varsın ticari filmlerinden gayrısına tv kanallarımız burun kıvırsın, varsın bazı filmleri arşivlerde dahi bulun(a)masın, varsın tezgahlarda filmlerinin DVD’leri- VCD’leri satılmasın; ‘bir isim’ dimdik ayakta, karşımızda duruyor, yaşıyor. Türk Sineması varoldukça da yaşamaya devam edecek… Bugün O’nu yok sayma gücüne sahip olanlar da dahil, hiçbirimiz, O’nun adını tarihten silmek kudretine sahip değiliz.
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.
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.
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/
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.
=====================================
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.
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.
===================================
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.
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.
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