Cahiers du Cinema | SUPPLÉMENT TURQUIE

Cahiers du cinéma n°647, pp.X-XII

SUPPLÉMENT TURQUIE

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C’est un véritable rêve éveillé : avec un top 10 composé à 100 % de films nationaux, le box-office turc 2008 affirme un peu plus l’extraordinaire vitalité d’une production domestique désormais bien installée dans le panthéon mondial…
par Vincent Malausa


C'est un véritable rêve éveillé : avec un top 10 composé à 100 % de films nationaux, le box-office turc 2008 affirme un peu plus l’extraordinaire vitalité d’une production domestique désormais bien installée dans le panthéon mondial (en hausse de 27,59 points par rapport à 2007 avec 60 % de parts de marché). La crise elle-même, qui est sur toutes les lèvres et affecte de nombreux secteurs de l’industrie, semble sans effet sur le phénomène  : en mars 2009, la part de marché des films turcs atteignait le score irréel de 71 %. Un tel miracle ne doit évidemment pas faire oublier le fossé qui sépare les grosses machines sortant sur 350 copies et déplaçant plus de 4 millions de spectateurs (les phénomènes A.R.O.G ou Recep Ivedik) d’une production plus fragile qui doit souvent composer avec les miettes de ce grand festin. Il en va ainsi de ce paradoxe : en Turquie, « la » star des festivals internationaux, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, devrait presque se féliciter d’avoir dépassé la barre des 130 000 spectateurs avec Les Trois Singes, Prix de la mise en scène à Cannes en 2008.

Impossible, donc, de réduire ce régime à deux vitesses à une banale opposition entre cinéma commercial triomphant et cinéma d’auteur balbutiant ou marginalisé. Depuis le milieu des années 1990 et le surgissement de cinéastes de dimension internationale (Ceylan, Zeki Demirkubuz, Derviş Zaim, Yeşim Ustaoğlu…), le cinéma d’auteur turc jouit en effet d’une réputation qui, de succès critiques en coups d’éclat dans les festivals les plus prestigieux (Cannes, Venise, Berlin, Toronto, Rotterdam), ne semble pas faiblir. La situation nationale se partage donc entre deux phénomènes symétriques : un cinéma commercial triomphant mais trop autocentré pour être exportable face à un cinéma d’auteur reconnu à l’étranger mais qui peine à trouver ses marques sur le marché domestique.


L’absence de modèles de production stables est une première explication. Si les films à gros potentiel commercial bénéficient d’une économie presque exclusivement privée (vedettes venues de la télé, sponsors, investisseurs), les films à visée plus artistique (équivalant en gros à notre label « Art et Essai ») se replient en grande partie sur la coproduction et sur les fonds indépendants (Hubert Bals, World Cinema Fund…). « Dans mon cas, la coproduction est vitale et indispensable, explique Reha Erdem, elle permet aux films de trouver les moyens de distribution internationaux qui les font vivre. » Dans ce cadre, le fonds de soutien Eurimages du Conseil de l’Europe, aide à la coproduction, à la distribution et aux salles (20 000 000 d’euros pour 57 films pour la partie coproduction en 2008), fut longtemps décisif pour le cinéma turc, dont 86 films ont été soutenus depuis 1990.


Mais depuis 2005, la création d’un « Bureau général du cinéma et des droits d’auteur » au sein du ministère de la Culture et du Tourisme a quelque peu changé la donne. Accompagnant le « boom » de la production nationale commencé au début des années 2000 (50 films distribués en 2008 alors qu’ils étaient moins de quinze en 2002), ce bureau est un premier pas : aide à la production (avec une moyenne de 150 000 euros par film pouvant monter jusqu’à 250 000 euros), quota pour les premiers films, soutien au développement et à la postproduction dessinent un semblant de modèle qui bénéficie à une trentaine de films par an. Pourtant la situation demeure fragile : « Malgré cet effort, le soutien de l’État n’a pas ouvert le chemin à une politique culturelle stable et multidimensionnelle. Les jeunes cinéastes indépendants doivent toujours s’en remettre à des initiatives individuelles », explique le cinéaste Derviş Zaim. Surtout, le statut de ce bureau lié au gouvernement demeure ambigu. « Ça rend tout très politique. Et comme les responsables sont des bureaucrates faisant plusieurs choses en même temps, le cinéma reste secondaire », note le jeune producteur Emre Yeksan.
Un jeune cinéma turc indépendant s’épanouit néanmoins, rompu aux tournages- guérilla et aux modes de financement aussi complexes qu’aléatoires. « Il y a trois solutions pour faire des films en Turquie, explique Ahmet Boyacıoğlu, secrétaire général de Festival on Wheels. Soit vous êtes un businessman, vous avez un million d’euros et vous réalisez une comédie stupide qui vous en rapporte cinq. Soit vous êtes un producteur ambitieux, prêt à mettre de votre poche, vous cherchez l’aide du ministère, du fonds Eurimages et vous tentez le coup. Soit vous n’avez rien, vous prenez une caméra digitale et vous vous lancez en espérant vous faire remarquer dans un festival. » Cette impression du « tout est possible » tient au fait que le cinéma turc repose sur une économie assez légère. « Avec 150 millions d’euros de recettes pour l’année 2008, nous n’atteignons pas la moitié du chiffre d’affaires des confiseries en France, rappelle le producteur Mehmet Çam. Le budget moyen d’un film tourne autour de 700 000 euros. « Nous avons d’excellents équipements techniques et les coûts sont moins élevés qu’en Europe, renchérit Reha Erdem. Notre système de production est très instable, mais paradoxalement, c’est peut être aussi notre richesse. »


« Le problème vient moins de l’argent que des manques au niveau de la production », explique Aslı Özge, jeune réalisatrice de Men on the Bridge, qui a triomphé au dernier Festival international d’Istanbul. Le flou et la flexibilité des méthodes de production a au moins le mérite de redoubler les énergies. Men on the Bridge s’est mué de documentaire en fiction en cours de route et a pu être produit grâce à un montage remarqué de dix minutes qui a enclenché une suite de réactions en chaîne ; Çağla Zencirci et Guillaume Giovanetti, auteurs du très beau court métrage multiprimé Ata, préparent un film produit entre pas moins de quatre pays : la Turquie, l’Allemagne, la France et… le Pakistan. Quant à Hüseyin Karabey, il a pu réaliser My Marlon and Brando, un des fleurons du jeune cinéma indépendant, en misant tout sur la période d’écriture avant de se jeter à l’eau : « Je n’avais réalisé que des documentaires, c’était le seul moyen pour attirer l’attention. J’ai obtenu plusieurs fonds pour le développement grâce à cette longue préparation. Une fois que j’ai obtenu la moitié du budget, je me suis lancé en espérant obtenir le reste en cours de tournage. »
Dans ce système très libéral, il est quasiment impossible de compter sur les télévisions, les préventes ne concernant que les films commerciaux. « La chaîne publique TRT et la chaîne privée Kanal D ont commencé à acheter des films plus “artistiques” récemment, nuance Emre Yeksan, mais les effets de la crise les ont stoppées dans leur élan. » La distribution, avec environ 1 500 écrans disponibles (fortement concentrés sur Istanbul), bouge elle aussi doucement. Chantier Film, une compagnie habituée à distribuer des films d’art et d’essai européens, a distribué son premier film turc avec My Marlon and Brando récemment. Et le public suit : lors du dernier festival d’Istanbul, tous les films d’art et d’essai ont fait salle comble. Leur image, longtemps résumée à « des films faits pour les étrangers » (Reha Erdem), évolue peu à peu. « Et la plupart des nouveaux cinéastes qui arrivent ont envie de rompre avec l’esthétique minimaliste qui colle trop au cinéma d’auteur », explique Emre Yeksan.
Certes la renommée de Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Zeki Demirkubuz, Semih Kaplanoğlu, Yeşim Ustaoğlu, Reha Erdem, Derviş Zaim et d’autres a contribué à cette avancée. Mais, phénomène plus récent, on note aussi l’apparition de films « intermédiaires  », capables de miser sur le tableau commercial tout en abordant des sujets très sérieux. « Ceylan a eu un rôle décisif, mais il n’est pas seul, explique Ahmet Boyacıoğlu : un cinéaste comme Çağan Irmak a tout changé en réalisant My Father and My Son, un mélodrame qui a fait 4 millions d’entrées en 2005. C’est à ce moment que tout le monde s’est mis à vouloir faire des films. » De fait, il est aujourd’hui possible pour un film d’art et d’essai intermédiaire d’espérer réaliser des scores impensables il y a encore peu, à l’image d’Autumn d’Özcan Alper, qui a attiré plus de 140 000 spectateurs en salles.
Reste un conflit permanent entre les réalisateurs de blockbusters et cette batailleuse nouvelle génération de cinéastes et de producteurs indépendants. « Ils reprochent au cinéma d’auteur d’être aidé sans rien rapporter à l’État », explique Mehmet Çam. En face, Mustafa Altıoklar, réalisateur du premier « hit » du cinéma commercial turc en 1996 (Istanbul Beneath My Wings, 500 000 entrées), fanfaronne : « Les films de Ceylan, je peux en réaliser un toutes les semaines. » Dans ce dialogue de sourds, la solution passerait par un renforcement du corps indépendant via une plateforme d’envergure. « Les manques sont multiples, explique Yamaç Okur, jeune producteur (Summer Book, 2007) : manque de lobbying, manque d’une plateforme qui permettrait de solidariser les réseaux déjà noués, manque de culture nationale cinéphile aussi… Mais nous sommes de plus en plus des producteurs à l’européenne, et non plus de simples producteurs-investisseurs comme dans les années 1990. » Une chose est sûre : fourbissant leurs armes, les jeunes turcs de la génération post-Ceylan ont bien l’intention de conquérir à leur tour leur petit coin de paradis.


> Photo accueil : Des temps et des vents de Reha Erdem (Pretty Pictures)

'Can' Opens the Space Between

'Can' Opens the Space Between -- A Panorama of Cinema in Turkey


I was very proud when my film Can was the first film from Turkey to be shown at the recent Sundance Film Festival where it received the "World Cinema Dramatic Special Jury Prize for Artistic Vision." This recognition further established Turkish films as a powerful voice in world cinema.


Can tells the story of a couple, Ayşe and Cemal, who long to have a child. I wanted to explore the somewhat desperate steps a man and woman facing infertility will take in order to create a family. My characters chose to fake a pregnancy and decide to buy a child, which turns their lives into a living hell. Is it a form of insanity to bring a new life into the world? Can anything ever prepare us for the struggle of becoming parents?


Left alone with her new baby, Ayşe is despondent and depressed. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot accept that she is now a mother. We assume that the maternal instinct is so strong that it will eventually overcome any obstacles. But what if a mother can't bond with her baby, particularly when that child is not her own flesh and blood?


My couple finds themselves completely alone dealing with circumstances they could never have predicted. All their lives they have been taught that having a child and being a parent fulfills a fundamental need to be part of a society's great plan for all of us. But what if that plan fails and all that is left is an aching void?


As in many cultures, family is extremely important in Turkey. My film raises the questions: are we ever really prepared to create a family? Does society pressure us to have a child and then offer no help when we are overwhelmed and distraught over this new responsibility?


It is my hope that Ayşe and Cemal's story of deception, passion, doubt and ultimately acceptance of the faults we all share as human beings will resonate with American audiences.


Now Can will open "The Space Between: A Panorama of Cinema in Turkey," the largest retrospective of Turkish films in the United States, which opens on April 27th at the Walter Reade Theater in New York.


I am grateful to Richard Peña, the Programming Director of the Film Society of Lincoln Center, who chose my film along with 28 others to be part of this landmark event, which spans seven decades of Turkish films. My countrymen at the Moon and Stars Project of The American Turkish Society, which organized the program, deserve my thanks as well.


Born in Izmir in 1969, Raşit Çelikezer directed his feature debut Three Apples Fell from the Sky in 2008 to critical acclaim at film festivals throughout the world. His film Can will be shown on April 27th at 6:30 p.m. as part of The Space Between: A Panorama of Cinema in Turkey presented by The Moon and Stars Project, the cultural division of the American Turkish Society, and co-presented by the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

Seyfi Teoman: ‘You can’t have it both ways’

Seyfi Teoman has only presented his sophomore directing effort this year; nonetheless, he has learned a lot about the film distribution business in the process.
The young filmmaker behind the drama “Bizim Büyük Çaresizliğimiz” (Our Grand Despair), which had its world premiere earlier this year at the Berlin film festival, says filmmakers should settle for “success either in film festivals or at the box office.”


“If your [film] has drawn 5 million viewers [in the box office], you shouldn’t set your sights on collecting all the movie awards. If your film received a certain number of awards and is honored by festivals, you shouldn’t anticipate 5 million viewers,” said Teoman, a member of the İstanbul-based independent and arthouse filmmakers collective Yeni Sinema Hareketi (New Cinema Movement), during an interview this week with the Anatolia news agency.


Teoman made a successful foray into film directing in 2008 with his drama “Tatil Kitabı” (Summer Book), which premiered at that year’s Berlin film festival. The film went on to win numerous awards both nationally and internationally as well as being featured in several international film festivals abroad.


The 33-year-old director also said in the interview with Anatolia that the reception for arthouse films was the same all around the world. “All films that have a universal content and are made with no commercial concerns … receive the same reaction throughout the world, which is low box-office returns. But there might be exceptions to this,” he said, noting that “Sonbahar” (Autumn), Özcan Alper’s directorial debut, and “İki Dil Bir Bavul” (On the Way to School), a documentary that recounts a school year in a Kurdish village in southeastern Turkey, were examples of such exceptions.


“Films that have a certain political content but that at the same time do not compromise cinematic quality have reached a certain success in the box office, because politics is important in people’s lives,” he said. “If Yeşilçam is the descendant of commercial cinema, we represent the other cinema. We are the heirs of Yılmaz Güney,” he added.


Source: 3 May 2011 / TODAY’S ZAMAN WITH WIRES., İSTANBUL

February 15, 2012, 6:00 AM

In Istanbul, a Film Festival Is Heavy on Politics

By SUSANNE FOWLER

Photo courtesy !f FestivalThe actor Kerem Can in the role of Can Ozturk in the Turkish film “Zenne Dancer.

¶¶The !f Istanbul International Independent Film Festival opens on Thursday with several movies that touch on controversial issues. It will screen more than 80 movies for an estimated 55,000 viewers in Istanbul, and many of the films examine matters like politics and the environment, at viewings occasionally hosted by stars.

Serra Ciliv, the festival director, said that though there had been no Arab Spring in Turkey, she included two films  on protest movements within the country: “Against the Flow,” a student-made film on efforts to block dam-building in the Black Sea region, and “Playing House,” directed by Bingol Elmas, about child brides.

¶One film that does focus on the Arab Spring is the three-part Egyptian documentary “Tahrir 2011’’ by Ayten Amin, Tamer Ezzat and Amr Salama. It begins with the 18-day protest in the Cairo square, followed by interviews with President Mubarak’s security forces, and ends with a section on “how those in power were manipulating, or thought they were manipulating, the people,” Ms. Ciliv said.

¶A screening of a film focusing on homophobia gets an injection of star power. Rupert Everett will host a screening of the Turkish film “Zenne Dancer,” a feature inspired by the story of Ahmet Yildiz, whose father is charged with murder in what has been labeled as the first gay honor killing in Turkey.

New Turkish Cinema: The Third Wave By Mariana Hristova

New Turkish Cinema: The Third Wave By Mariana Hristova

Will Yeşilçam apologize to Muslims?

Ekrem Dumanli / Todays Zaman
Will Yeşilçam apologize to Muslims?
Wednesday, 18 February 2009

In my previous article I had asked, "Will Hollywood apologize to Muslims?" and I expressed my views about cinema, beliefs, biases and stereotypes by drawing examples from Hollywood productions.
Actually, we don't have to go so far in order to ask this question. Who can say that the Muslim stereotyping in our own cinema industry is so true to reality that we should expect the cinema sectors in other countries to follow suit?

Before going any further, I would like to clarify what I mean by bias or stereotype: If the same cliché is insistently used to refer to the same group, then it certainly means that there is bias toward that group. This applies to every group or people, and it is a clear sign of discrimination and hate. If one group is always depicted with the same characterization of its members and these characters are always evil and if, as part of the same strategy, some people are always shown as good, then it is obvious that there is bias or some preconception at work. This is because no group can be collectively "good" or "evil."

The Turkish cinema sector has long pursued negative attitudes against religion and devout people and attempted to develop a negative stereotype of them. Until recently, almost all portrayals of clerical officials, kadıs (religious judges), hodcas and pilgrims have been negative. People who seem to be devout in appearance have been portrayed as secretly malicious. Is there no exception to these stereotypes? No, unfortunately. Moreover, this unrelenting attempt to create such stereotypes has never let up.

It is wrong to suggest that this can be explained by negative attitudes against religion on the part of scriptwriters or producers. Indeed, this attempt has been aggravated, in part, by official policies. The "fanatical cleric" stereotype is a recurring theme in all fictional works (novels, short stories, plays) published since the early years of the republic. Such characterizations of devout people (or other pandemic preconceptions about other groups) cannot be correctly diagnosed unless they are viewed from a political vantage point. It is for this reason that we can find various forms of this stereotype, from the single-party regime to the Justice and Development Party (AK Party) era.

The negative portrayal of clerics and devout people that started after the establishment of the republic continued for some time and the nation perceived this portrayal as a "hatred of religion." There may be factors that justify this perception, but the point here is not about believing in or denying a certain religion. A new regime was established and, like every new regime, the Republic of Turkey thought that the previous era had to be defaced. Therefore, all values that belonged to the previous era were to be portrayed as evil while the values of the new regime were to be glorified. All people that represented the old regime were characterized in films as traitors, collaborators and liars. On the other hand, those who symbolized the new regime were promoted as idealistic, hardworking and self-sacrificing. The old regime was represented by fanatical religious people or superficial clerics, while the new regime was represented by teachers, physicians and engineers.

Ultimately it was religion and science that were pitted against each other. In an atmosphere where nothing is expressed openly, the row was going on between tradition and modernism. In the picture portrayed for the spectators were those who represented the return of the old regime (reactionary people) and those who fed on positivism but, at the same time, tried to cling to the nation through national values (progressive people). Later, the names and forms of these symbols changed, but the characterization remained the same. Advocates of innovation were always "progressive and intellectual" types, while proponents of tradition were always "reactionary and fanatical."

It seems that our cinema sector and democratic quest have made parallel progress. As the freedom of expression and belief has expanded, these characterizations were modified. Now let us look at the following main developments briefly and try to make sense of them according to eras: the single-party era, the introduction of the multiparty regime, the years of military coups, the rise of left-wing movements, the rise of nationalist movements and the rise of conservative movements. Now let us treat these main developments briefly and try to make sense of them according to eras.
The era of stage actors and the building of a new regime

Some of the striking films produced between 1922 and 1939, known as the era of stage actors in the history of Turkish cinema, should be viewed as an effort to contribute the nation building process that was in the works then. The dominant personality of this era was, without a doubt, Muhsin Ertuğrul. "Ateşten Gömlek," a film adapted from Halide Edip Adıvar's novel of the same title, is regarded as one of the first successful films on the War of Independence. "Bir Millet Uyanıyor," directed by Ertuğrul in 1923, serves as the unforgettable model for the subsequent wave of films about the war. The common theme of these films was the enthusiasm of building a new state. Two films, both directed by Ertuğrul, should be noted in particular, as they created the clerical official prototypes for subsequent films: "Aynaros Kadısı" and "Bir Kavuk Devrildi."

Another recurrent theme in the era of stage actors is the Bektaşi sheikh, seen first in "Nur Baba" (1922). This sheik is a lustful, ambitious and devious type and the Bektaşi lodges are places where wild parties are held. After Bektaşis raided the film set and several incidents broke out, the producers started to act with caution in their portrayals of Alevis and Bektaşis. Later, open references to Bektaşis were removed from the films. Instead, only sheiks and their lodges tended to be discussed. Nevertheless, there were still references to the struggle between the old and the new.
"Aynaros Kadısı," which was originally written as a play by Musahipzade in 1927 but was adapted for the screen by Ertuğrul in 1938, is the most striking example of the stereotyping of clerics and religious people. The film intentionally revolves around a kadı because this allows the director to offer his biased portrayal of a cleric and, at the same, denigrate the Ottoman legal system. It should be clear that this judge is deceitful and lustful and takes bribes, amongst other things. Despite some harsh criticism, Yeşilçam never found the courage to develop new perspectives. Ertuğrul maintained the same characterizations in his subsequent films. In "Bir Kavuk Devrildi," for example, you can find the same characters and themes.

These prototypes, which were invented with the motive of lending ideological support to the newly founded state, are understandable in the context of their time. But today the film sector must realize the realities behind them and engage in some self-criticism. While the clerical officials -- and devout people -- heartily supported the War of Independence and while the first Parliament's respect for religion is well known, the Turkish filmmaking sector insistently opted to denigrate and humiliate religion and devout people, which had bad consequences. The constant portrayal of clerics as evil and disgusting characters has led to the alienation of the nation from cinema.

For some reason, clerics were portrayed as opponents of the national struggle. Clearly this does not correspond to historical realities. As a matter of fact, while there were some clerics who were against the national liberation movement, one cannot deny the support provided by the majority. Yet one can never find a positive portrayal of them in film. I do not want to do injustice to the filmmaking sector, as these negative stereotyping attempts are not limited to cinema. All fictional works suffer from this defect. "New" is represented by teachers, while "old" is symbolized by clerics. This applies both to novels and plays.

The unchanging cliché of the transition era: religion and religious people

The eruption of World War II had negative effects both on world cinema in general and the Turkish filmmaking sector in particular. At the end of this phase, known as the transition era, stage actors left the scene to directors. But the influence of stage actors was still visible in the films of this era. In 1948, the sector became financially supported by the state following a series of legal measures and this ushered in a diversification of the themes of the films. In 1949 the landmark film of negatively stereotyping clerics was produced: "Vurun Kahpeye." Directed by Lütfü Ö. Akad, "Vurun Kahpeye" pits the idealistic and enlightened teacher Aliye and the devious, devout cleric Hacı Fettah against each other. The most striking scene in the film is the lynching of Aliye by the "pro-sultan Hacı Fettah and the ignorant mob led by him." The film was adapted from Halide Edip Adıvar's novel of the same title. Her novel has been adapted to cinema three times and each time it has created major reactions. In its latest adaptation, Halif Refiğ adopted a delicate and cautious approach. Nevertheless, its damage in terms of stereotyping is great.

Interestingly, the Turkish cinema sector tends to portray the clerics as devious, ambitious, unreliable or lustful types while it refrains from making similar negative generalizations about other professions. Teachers are always respected, police officers are characterized as dignified people, soldiers are shown as symbols of national dignity and judges are portrayed as models of justice. Is it possible for any profession to include nothing but good people? Of course not. However, this is a consequence of the nation-building process. The fact that our stereotypes do not correspond to the stereotypes of world cinema is clear proof of the influence of political and social engineering projects on the Turkish cinema sector. In a later article, we will continue to discuss how internal dynamics have affected the cinema sector from the point of view of their perception of religion and devout people.

Anılar arasında ‘Yaralı Kurt’

Anılar arasında ‘Yaralı Kurt’
28/11/2008

Hürrem Erman’ın yaşamöyküsünü geçmiş günlere dalıp giderek okudum. Rıza Kıraç roman tadında yazmış. Hürrem Erman’ı, Rıza Kıraç’ın doğduğu yıl tanıdım, 1970’te
SELİM İLERİ (Arşivi)

Can Yayınları’nın Yaşam dizisini elden geldiğince okuyorum. Elden geldiğince diyorum, çünkü, Rıza Kıraç’ın kaleme getirdiği Hürrem Erman/İzlenmemiş Bir Yeşilçam Filmi dizinin 122. kitabıymış. 2. sayfada öyle yazıyor. Bu 122 kitabın hepi topu kaçını okumuş olabilirim?
Hürrem Erman’ın yaşamöyküsünü geçmiş günlere dalıp giderek okudum. Rıza Kıraç roman tadında yazmış. “Bir edebiyat yazarı olarak kurmacanın, belgesel filmci olarak gerçeğin değerini her zaman önemsemişimdir” diyor. Kitabın başarısına bir anahtar.
Hürrem Erman’ı, Rıza Kıraç’ın doğduğu yıl tanıdım, 1970’te. Yeşilçam’ın Yeşilçam olduğu günlerdi. Mesela Erman Film, o yıl, Adsız Cengâver’in yapımevi. Adsız Cengâver, hem renkli hem sinemaskop. Hollywood filmlerinden sinemaskobu biliyoruz, ama yerlisini -galiba- ilk kez görüyoruz.

Unutamadığım Kezban Roma’da, yine aynı yıl çekilmiş. Yapımcı yine Hürrem Erman. Siyah-beyaz, fakat Avrupa’da geçen Küçükhanımefendi’lerden sonra, bu kez, Kezban Roma’ya gidiyor...

Benim Yeşilçam maceram da başladı başlayacak. Kemal Tahir’in evinde tanıştığım, Adsız Cengâver’in yönetmeni ve senaryo yazarı Halit Refiğ, Türk sinemasının genç senaryo yazarlarına ihtiyaç duyduğunu söylüyor. Halit beye hep sormak isterim, sonradan ne kadar pişman oldu... 15-20 gün sonra birlikte çalışmaya başlamıştık. Yeteneksizliğim, bilgisizliğim gözler önüne serilmişti.

Yapımevi, Erman Film değildi. Fakat bir gün, Erman Han’a uğradık. Senaryoda bir adım yol alamıyorum, ama Halit Refiğ hevesimi kırmıyor, beni yanında çanta gibi taşıyor.

Erman Han’ın en üst katı, Erman Film’in yazıhanesi güzel döşenmişti. Başka bir hava esiyordu burada. Büyük yapımevi nedir, birden fark ediyordunuz. Hürrem Erman, çok zarif, mesafeli, saygı uyandıran bir insandı.

Hem Halit Refiğ’le, hem Atıf Yılmaz’la senaryoculuk oyunum yetmemiş olmalı ki, 1971’de büyük usta Lütfi Ö. Akad’ın çırağıydım. Erman Film için sözüm ona Yaralı Kurt’u yazıyordum. Şimdi sözü, anlatıyı sevgili Rıza Kıraç’a bırakıyorum:

“Hürrem Erman, Lütfi Akad’ın Cüneyt Arkın’la bir film daha yapmasını ister. Akad o günlerde okuduğu Graham Greene’nin A Gun For Hire adlı romanından Cüneyt Arkın için bir film konusu çıkabileceğini düşünür.”
Hatırladığım kadarıyla, Hürrem bey, eski Hollywood yapımı, Green’in eserinden uyarlama bir filmi seyretmiş, Akad’a önermişti. Eserin Türkçesi Varlık Yayınları’nın kitapları arasında. Hürrem Erman’dan konuyu, temayı dinleyen Lütfi bey ise ne kitabı okumuş, ne filmi seyretmişti. Bir yerlerde yazmış olmalıyım; Akad ‘uyarlama’ya bambaşka yöntemlerle yaklaşır, yalnızca tema’yla, izlekle yetinir, bütünüyle ‘özgün’ bir yapı kurardı.

Kıraç devam ediyor:
“Yaralı Kurt adlı senaryoyu yazma işini o günlerde sinemaya yeni bulaşmış Selim İleri’yle yapmaya çalışsa da sonra bu işi tamamen ona bırakır. Fakat sonuç pek parlak olmaz. Yine de Akad, Hürrem Erman’a anlattığında filmin hikâyesini çok beğenir. (...) Ama senaryo pek işe yarar gibi görünmediği için Akad senaryo çalışmak zorunda kalır. (...) Kumbağ’da Yaralı Kurt’un senaryosunu yeniden yazar.”
Düzeltmek ihtiyacını duyuyorum:

Hatırlıyorum’da ve Anılar; Issız ve Yağmurlu’da dile getirmeye çalıştığım gibi, bende derin iz bırakmış eşsiz Akad, senaryo yazarlığı konusundaki bilgisizliğimi daha ikinci çalışma gününde fark etmişti. Yüzüme söylemeyecek kadar ulu gönüllüydü. Usta-çırak ilişkisi öylece başladı. Hayatımın en güzel günleri arasında saydığım bir dönem: Bir yandan Yaralı Kurt yazılıyor, yani Akad yazıyor, bir yandan da senaryo nasıl yazılır, bana öğretiyor. Diyaloglar azdırıyor, bekliyor, okuyor, tartıyor, seçiyor. Sahneler yazdırıyor, bekliyor, okuyor, düzeltiyor, çoğu kez yeniden yazıyor. Diyebilirim ki, Akad sinemada ilk ve tek öğretmenim oldu. O incelikli eğitimden sonra, Zeki Ökten’e Bir Demet Menekşe’yi yazmıştım...
Kıraç’ın kitabının dizininde adım geçmiyor.

Hürrem beyi en son, 1990’ların iyice sonunda, Beyoğlu’ndaki Pamuk Eczanesi’nde görmüştüm. Her zamanki lord haliyle. “Sizin sevdiğiniz sinema bitti” demişti, “o günler...”

Kıraç’ın eseri, çok etkileyici bir sonla noktalanıyor.

Variety Article | Turkish box office is up

Turkish box office is up | Local hits have helped attract private money
By NICK HOLDSWORTH | Fri., Oct. 3, 2008,

As Turkey's Golden Orange Film Festival gets ready to kick off its 45th year, local films are burning up the wickets, with domestic pics set to capture some 50% of the country's box office this year.

A wave of local hits -- dominated by comedies and action movies -- has helped attract private money and investment from TV companies in home-grown product, Turkish film industry professionals say.

Box office figures for 2008 through August show the top six positions all taken by Turkish films, with comedy "Recep Ivedik" at the top of the list, pulling in 4.3 million viewers since its release late February.

"We are witnessing an explosion in the number of films being produced in Turkey," says Ahmet Boyacioglu, chairman of the Ankara Cinema Assn. "Two years ago, a couple of dozens films were produced, last year 43 (were made) and this year already around 60. Currently there are some 30 films waiting to be released, reflecting films from across a range of genres -- comedies, arthouse, personal (auteur) films."

Boyacioglu says it is hard to identify precisely what factors have contributed to the sharp increase in interest among audiences in domestic movies, but notes that institutional and industry investors have been quick to capitalize on it.

"Television channels are increasingly interested in buying films before they are shot, and we even have an example of a single private investor putting up the entire $2 million budget for one film currently in production," Boyacioglu adds.

Market share for Turkish films went from just 13% in 2002 to 51% in 2006, he says. Although the share dipped to 38% last year, latest figures suggest that by year's end the figure will be back up around 50%, with "Recep Ivedik" accounting for approximately 12% of total market share based on an average annual audience in Turkey of 30 million-35 million.

Figures like that are knocking some of Hollywood's best efforts off the charts: "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" pulled in just 323,000 viewers.

"It's a disaster for American films. Why the Turkish people have decided to watch more Turkish films over the last six years I don't know, but now anyone with any interest or opportunity in cinema wants to make a film here," Boyacioglu says.

Although many of the blockbuster local films will rarely be seen beyond Turkey's borders -- or outside its large diaspora communities in countries such as Germany -- festival fare is also enjoying a new wave.

Turkish films have been featured heavily in the competition and showcase programs of virtually all European film festivals this year, with Nuri Bilge Ceylan's taking the director prize at Cannes this year for "Three Monkeys."

Other Turkish pics on festival and award radars include "Pandora's Box" by Yesim Ustaoglu; "Milk" by Semi Kaplanoglu; "Autumn" by Ozcan Alper; "My Marlon and Brando" by Huseyin Karabey; and Seyfi Teoman's feature debut "Summer Book."

Deniz Ziya Temeltas, of the Eurasia Production Platform and Film Market -- a professional sidebar that runs during the Eurasia film festival in Antalya -- says local films look likely to remain a force in Turkey for the foreseeable future.

"With the arrival of new festivals, production platforms and markets as well as various new media, there is a question whether the U.S. will be able keep its market share," Ziya Temeltas says. "More and more local productions are airing on primetime TV. ... In Turkey, there is not a U.S. series on a major network in primetime."

Turkish box office is up

Turkish box office is up
Local hits have helped attract private money
By NICK HOLDSWORTH | Variety Posted: Fri., Oct. 3, 2008

As Turkey's Golden Orange Film Festival gets ready to kick off its 45th year, local films are burning up the wickets, with domestic pics set to capture some 50% of the country's box office this year.

A wave of local hits -- dominated by comedies and action movies -- has helped attract private money and investment from TV companies in home-grown product, Turkish film industry professionals say.

Box office figures for 2008 through August show the top six positions all taken by Turkish films, with comedy "Recep Ivedik" at the top of the list, pulling in 4.3 million viewers since its release late February.

"We are witnessing an explosion in the number of films being produced in Turkey," says Ahmet Boyacioglu, chairman of the Ankara Cinema Assn. "Two years ago, a couple of dozens films were produced, last year 43 (were made) and this year already around 60. Currently there are some 30 films waiting to be released, reflecting films from across a range of genres -- comedies, arthouse, personal (auteur) films."

Boyacioglu says it is hard to identify precisely what factors have contributed to the sharp increase in interest among audiences in domestic movies, but notes that institutional and industry investors have been quick to capitalize on it.

"Television channels are increasingly interested in buying films before they are shot, and we even have an example of a single private investor putting up the entire $2 million budget for one film currently in production," Boyacioglu adds.

Market share for Turkish films went from just 13% in 2002 to 51% in 2006, he says. Although the share dipped to 38% last year, latest figures suggest that by year's end the figure will be back up around 50%, with "Recep Ivedik" accounting for approximately 12% of total market share based on an average annual audience in Turkey of 30 million-35 million.

Figures like that are knocking some of Hollywood's best efforts off the charts: "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" pulled in just 323,000 viewers.

"It's a disaster for American films. Why the Turkish people have decided to watch more Turkish films over the last six years I don't know, but now anyone with any interest or opportunity in cinema wants to make a film here," Boyacioglu says.

Although many of the blockbuster local films will rarely be seen beyond Turkey's borders -- or outside its large diaspora communities in countries such as Germany -- festival fare is also enjoying a new wave.

Turkish films have been featured heavily in the competition and showcase programs of virtually all European film festivals this year, with Nuri Bilge Ceylan's taking the director prize at Cannes this year for "Three Monkeys."

Other Turkish pics on festival and award radars include "Pandora's Box" by Yesim Ustaoglu; "Milk" by Semi Kaplanoglu; "Autumn" by Ozcan Alper; "My Marlon and Brando" by Huseyin Karabey; and Seyfi Teoman's feature debut "Summer Book."

Deniz Ziya Temeltas, of the Eurasia Production Platform and Film Market -- a professional sidebar that runs during the Eurasia film festival in Antalya -- says local films look likely to remain a force in Turkey for the foreseeable future.

"With the arrival of new festivals, production platforms and markets as well as various new media, there is a question whether the U.S. will be able keep its market share," Ziya Temeltas says. "More and more local productions are airing on primetime TV. ... In Turkey, there is not a U.S. series on a major network in primetime."

Turkish Director Fêted in Cannes, Ignored at Home

Turkish director, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, poses after winning Best Director prize at the Closing Ceremony of the 61st Cannes International Film Festival on May 25, 2008.

ANNE-CHRISTINE POUJOULAT / AFP / Getty Images


Tuesday, May. 27, 2008

Turkish Director Fêted in Cannes, Ignored at Home
By PELIN TURGUT/ISTANBUL

Celebrated Turkish filmmaker Nuri Bilge Ceylan was awarded Best Director in Cannes on Sunday. Perhaps now Turks will finally go see his movies. Despite being heralded globally for his movie magic, Ceylan's films — slow-paced, poetic tales of individuals struggling against the bleak backdrop of modern Turkey — routinely flop back home. Distant, a previous Cannes competitor, was seen by just 20,000 people in Turkey — only one-fourth as many as saw it in France. His current Cannes winner, Three Monkeys, has yet to sell to Turkish TV, which has deemed it too arty.

It is true that Ceylan's films are never easy going, but in a country of 70 million, 20,000 viewers seems, well, a little pathetic. Are Turks a nation of cultural philistines? Critics bemoaning the dearth of interest in cultural fare (book sales are shrinking along with art-house film audiences) point to a brutal 1980 military coup as the start of this malaise. The generals ushered in an era of economic liberalization and anything-goes cowboy capitalism that rapidly transformed the country into a consumerist McHeaven. Turgut Ozal, who served as prime minister from 1983 to 1989 and as president from 1989 to 1993, famously declared that his dream was for Turkey to become "a little America." And he wasn't talking about liberty. Today, Turkey is home to Europe's youngest population, and one of the world's fastest growing consumer markets with brands like Starbucks, Topshop and Ikea booming. One brand manager told me that in his view, the country's shopping malls (60 new ones opening this year) are "paved with gold."

The buying binge is, of course, a worldwide phenomenon. But in Turkey, unlike similar developing countries like Brazil or India, it is underpinned by a deep distaste for the arts. After the 1980 coup, tens of thousands of leftists were imprisoned and often tortured. Newspapers and magazines were banned, politics was forbidden in schools and universities and free speech stifled by draconian laws, some of which are still on the books. With intellectualism effectively quashed, the end result was a cultural vacuum. Recovering has not been easy.

Then again, to give Turkish audiences their credit, maybe Ceylan's previous films were just really, really slow. "Viewers have become used to the fast-paced style of ads, music videos and news shows that jump from scene to scene; this manifests itself in an impatience towards films which tease their stories out slowly," says Firat Yucel, editor of the film magazine Altyazi.

If that's the case, they can take heart: Cannes award winner Three Monkeys is an engrossing tale of an Istanbul family torn apart by their secrets. In tone, if not style, it is a departure for Ceylan and has even been described as a thriller, albeit a meditative one. "Hopefully the Cannes charm might coax viewers into giving Ceylan a chance," says film critic Emrah Guler. And if that's not enough to get Turkish moviegoers to the theaters, the director stands in good company, with the likes of Woody Allen, of filmmakers embraced by the arty French but neglected at home.

Variety Review | Three Monkeys

Cannes
Three Monkeys
Uc maymun (Turkey-France-Italy)
By JUSTIN CHANG

Dark drama 'Three Monkeys' offers adultery, murder and gloom.

A Pyramide Distribution (in France) release of a Zeynofilm, NBC Film (Turkey)/Pyramide Prods. (France)/Bim Distribuzione (Italy) production, in association with Imaj, with the participation of Ministere de la Culture et du Tourisme Turc, Eurimages, CNC. (International sales: Pyramide Intl., Paris.) Produced by Zeynep Ozbatur. Co-producers, Fabienne Vonier, Valerio de Paolis, Cemal Noyan, Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Screenplay, Ebru Ceylan, Ercan Kesal, Nuri Bilge Ceylan. With: Yavuz Bingol, Hatice Aslan, Ahmet Rifat Sungar, Ercan Kesal.(Turkish dialogue)


Seeing, hearing and speaking no evil comes all too easily to the tortured trio in "Three Monkeys," a powerfully bleak family drama that leaves its characters' offenses largely offscreen but lingers with agonizing, drawn-out deliberation on the consequences. Bad faith, simmering resentment, adultery and murder all figure into Nuri Bilge Ceylan's darkly burnished fifth feature, giving it a stronger narrative undertow than his previous Cannes competition entries, "Distant" and "Climates." But gripping as the film often is, its unrelenting doom and gloom offers fewer lasting rewards, making it unlikely to draw sizable arthouse crowds beyond the Turkish helmer's fanbase.

Opening shot of aging Turkish politician Servet (Ercan Kesal), falling asleep at the wheel as he drives through the woods at night, not only foreshadows the monochrome misery to come but also establishes the film's dramatic m.o. Rather than showing the subsequent collision, Ceylan cuts to a forest clearing where a pedestrian lies dead in the background and Servet, trembling with fear in the foreground, determines to hide his guilt.

Emphasis on aftermath rather than action is significant: The one who ends up paying for Servet's crime is his longtime personal driver, Eyup (Yavuz Bingol), who takes the rap after Servet's promise of a hefty lump sum upon his release. As Eyup's prison term drags on for months, his beautiful wife Hacer (Hatice Aslan) and aimless teenage son Ismail (Ahmet Rifat Sungar) grow impatient and restless in their seaside flat, prompting Hacer to ask Servet for an advance.

Servet, who's just lost an important election, makes good on his promise, though the indelicate nature of his agreement with Hacer -- again, made clear to the audience with no explicit imagery -- can't be kept hidden for long from Ismail. The troubled youth, in turn, has a hard time concealing the truth from Eyup when the latter re-enters the picture, creating a pressure-cooker scenario that Ceylan plays out for maximum emotional tension at an achingly measured tempo.

Though he eventually serves up an entire potboiler's worth of past tragedies and festering secrets, Ceylan takes a characteristically oblique approach. Screenplay (credited to the helmer, his wife Ebru Ceylan and Ercan Kesal) dwells mainly on the characters' inability to communicate -- the film offers lots of awkward silences and angsty brooding, but precious little eye contact -- making the inevitable angry outbursts all the more affecting.

Primary thesps are superbly convincing as a dysfunctional unit. Absent for most of the first half, Bingol dominates the second with his volatile fits of temper. Aslan is both maddening and sympathetic as the frustrated seductress, and handsome Sungar has heartbreaking moments as a son who, it's suggested, has borne more than his fair share of the emotional burdens.

While Servet's selfish actions impel the drama forward, the political content and latent class tensions never distract from the core dynamic. But "Three Monkeys" reaches the point of diminishing returns in its final reels, as the tale relaxes its vise-like grip and its machinations begin to seem transparent and overdetermined in retrospect. And aside from a darkly comic cell-phone ringtone that steals every scene it's in, the wry humor that made "Distant" so memorable is mostly absent here.
Reteaming with "Climates" d.p. Gokhan Tiryaki, Ceylan again offers beautifully composed HD images of exceptional depth and texture. In keeping with the angst-ridden tenor, however, his color palette seems deliberately murkier and more constrained than usual, occasionally drifting past sepia into the realms of puke-green. In some ways, the extraordinarily crisp and detailed soundscape is even more impressive, making audible the scrape of tires on gravel and the unyielding rhythms of the sea.

Camera (color, HD, widescreen), Gokhan Tiryaki; editors, Ayhan Ergursel, Bora Goksingol, Nuri Bilge Ceylan; art director, Ebru Ceylan; sound (Dolby Digital), Olivier Goinard; sound editor, Umut Senyol; assistant director, Ayla Karli Tezgoren. Reviewed at Cannes Film Festival (competing), May 15, 2008. Running time: 109 MIN

Review |Uneasy Ottomans

Read other reviews from NBC Films web site

Uneasy Ottomans

Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Climates takes the temperature of a failing marriage
By SCOTT FOUNDAS
Wednesday, November 8, 2006 - 7:00 pm

Turkish writer-director Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Climates is about the winds of change that blow through seasons and marriages. It begins with a woman, Bahar, perched atop a hillside in the Turkish resort town of Kas, while her husband, Isa, explores the ruins below. It is a beautiful day, and this vacation is long overdue, having been too many times postponed due to Bahar’s schedule as the art director on a television series and Isa’s as a university professor. Yet, as she watches him, slowly, almost imperceptibly she begins to cry inside. That night, they will quarrel during dinner with friends. (“Don’t worry, they enjoy seeing us miserable,” she assures him.) And before the vacation has ended, on a stretch of deserted beach that is like one of those paradisiacal oases that peek out from the pages of travel-agency brochures, he will suggest that they should try living apart for a while.

Climates is the fourth feature film by Ceylan, who won two major prizes at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival for the exquisite Distant, and like his others, it’s something of a family affair — only this time, instead of casting his relatives in the leading roles, Ceylan has cast himself and his real-life wife, Ebru, as Isa and Bahar. And if, in the hands of a lesser filmmaker, such a decision might foster a mood of lurid home-movie voyeurism, both Ceylans are such commanding and subtly expressive performers that any charges of nepotism here are as erroneous as in the storied collaborations of John Cassavetes and Gena Rowlands. This is also the first movie Ceylan has shot in high-definition video, which lends the images such startling clarity that it is possible to identify the individual beads of sweat that form on Bahar’s bosom as it bakes beneath the sweltering Kas sun. Yet the things Ceylan sees in sharpest relief lie beyond the reach of any digital camera.

I am talking about the hairline fissures that can form in even the most seemingly rock-solid relationship, and how such a relationship might end, without hysterics and by mutual agreement of both parties, for no reason other than that it has simply run its course. Such ideas are hardly fashionable for movies at a time when the Jennifer Aniston–Vince Vaughn The Break-Up is what passes as sophisticated grown-up entertainment, and I suspect that Climates will not be easy viewing for those who feel marooned in long-term partnerships, or maybe for any of us who have known the suddenness with which love can turn to revulsion. Of course, the same could be said of Bergman’s Scenes From a Marriage or Alan Parker’s Shoot the Moon or Woody Allen’s Husbands and Wives, and Climates merits a place alongside them in any inventory of the screen’s wise and disquieting portraits of marital collapse.

But there is something you will see in Climates that is not to be found in any of those other films. Back in Istanbul, some months after that day on the beach, Isa stands longingly outside the apartment of a former mistress (the fiery Nazan Kesal), whom he has just run into (with her current boyfriend) in a bookstore. After thinking about it for a while, she opens the door to him, and what follows can only be described as the most awkward and berserk and sensationally unrestrained movie sex scene since the ones in Last Tango in Paris — a clumsy ballet of ripped clothes and bodies slamming against furniture that shudders with violent passion and the sense of two lonely, desperate souls connecting out of some irrepressible, primal need.

Not long after that, Isa begins to think he may have behaved in haste, that perhaps he and Bahar should give things another go. So he travels to Ishakpasa, where she is working, and their reunion there, amid the flurries of midwinter, is something beyond words. The shades of disgust, longing, forgiveness and resignation that flash across both lovers’ faces are like the storm clouds that interrupt a placid spring day and then, just as quickly, disappear — the whole complex history of woman and man condensed into a few sublime seconds of screen time. With that come no easy answers or tidy resolutions, but as Bahar literally fades from our view and an airplane that may or may not be carrying Isa streaks across a brilliant sky, we’re filled with the melancholic reminder that, in life as in nature, each ending brings with it another new beginning.



CLIMATES | Written and directed by NURI BILGE CEYLAN | Produced by ZEYNEP ÖZBATUR | Released by Zeitgeist Films |

Article | "Gitmek" (My Marlon and Brando)

Hüseyin Karabey, Turkey’s pride at Rotterdam film festival
Turkish filmmaker Hüseyin Karabey poses for a photograph at the Rotterdam Film Festival, where his film “Gitmek” is being screened.

It is another frightfully cold and windy day as I head to meet with director Hüseyin Karabey during the International Rotterdam Film Festival.


His first feature film, "Gitmek" (My Marlon and Brando), just had its world premiere the night before -- and obviously it went quite well, as Karabey greets me with a relieved expression and a warm smile. As for me, not only am I excited to talk with the man who has shot this wonderful film but I am also more than happy to finally talk with a compatriot in this crazy jamboree. We are among the handful of Turks attending one of the most world's most popular festivals for film professionals in the world.

"Gitmek" is one of the best films I have seen that has come out of Turkey in recent years. It is simple, yet profound; meticulously shot, but with the right amount of documentary feel; it has a captivating female lead and, even more important, it is genuine. On a film set in Anatolia, actress Ayça (played by Ayça Damgacı) meets Hama Ali (Hama Ali Khan -- who happens to be a Kurdish actor). Ayça and Hama Ali fall in love, but Ayça lives in İstanbul and Hama Ali in Sulaimaniya, Iraq. In the following months, they communicate over the telephone and with letters and, once in a while, Hama Ali sends Ayça tender yet passionate video diaries. However, the year is 2003 and eventually the US declares war on Iraq. In this time of chaos how will they ever see each other? The strong-minded Ayça wants nothing more than to unite with her beloved. She decides to embark on a journey from İstanbul to Sulaimaniya via southeastern Turkey, Iran and eventually Iraq. Thus her real adventure and introspection begins. This is the story of a real woman in a real world and one has to congratulate Karabey for his determination in making this film.

Reversing standards

Coming from a Kurdish family himself, Karabey ended up studying in İstanbul. He is better known for his documentaries. When I ask him how his journey toward fiction started he replies: "Well, I always saw cinema as a whole and never really differentiated between documentary and fiction. When I saw what was broadcasted on television I realized that the media never showed what was really going on in the country or the world. What I saw on the screen was not what I or the people I knew were experiencing. I wanted to change that and make something that told the story of ordinary folks like us and not far-fetched characters living in a bubble."

Indeed Karabey has achieved his aspirations, as the delightful Ayça Damagacı, whom the film's story is also based on, is not the picture-perfect damsel in distress. Ayça is chubby, not the smartest person in the world and, furthermore, she is a woman -- thank God, someone finally realized that strong female characters could lead a story in Turkish cinema!

As we continue our conversation Karabey further comments, "Besides the lead being a woman, another 'standard' we wanted to reverse was the concept of going to the East instead of the West in the search for happiness. Ayça's quest is not as such and her heart lies in the East -- in the middle of a war. As we watch her travel through Diyarbakır, Van and even Iran, we realize that the people residing in these places, which we have misconceptions about, also have lives and maintain wonderful traditions and practices that enhance their joy de vivre." I notice that Karabey always uses the word "us" when he is talking about the making of his film. To him "Gitmek" is the collaborative effort of his crew and I admire his sense of camaraderie.

The production story of the film is even more interesting. One of the few directors to hold the complete rights to his films, Karabey gathered a significant amount of his funding from abroad -- namely the Hubert Bals Fund of the Rotterdam Film Festival, where he is currently being hosted. He was also supported by the Turkish Ministry of Culture and, later on, he formed a co-production team with producers from the Netherlands and the UK. Karabey states: "As you know, the production of independent films is quite difficult in Turkey. However, if I managed to make this film, this means that I can form an example and shed a light for younger filmmakers who want to do something that is not the usual mainstream [material]."

"Gitmek" will open in Turkish theaters at the end of April. I recommend this film to anyone who enjoys good cinema. I am already looking forward to Karabey's next film.

30.01.2008
EMİNE YILDIRIM ROTTERDAM

Article | Fatih Akin's projects cross borders

Fatih Akin's projects cross borders

German-Turk has two films in the Oscar race

By ALI JAAFAR

Crossing borders comes naturally to Fatih Akin.

The Teuton-Turkish multitasking multihyphenate has two films in the race for a best foreign language Oscar nomination -- Germany's "Edge of Heaven," which he helmed, and Turkey's "Takva" which he co-produced. But he's also got a slew of other projects under way, not all of them as a producer or director.

While he's busy helming "Garbage in the Garden of Eden," a years-in-the-making doc about the impact of the Turkish government's policy of using an idyllic Turkish village as a landfill site, he's also collaborating with Martin Scorsese at the World Cinema Foundation, a nonprofit org dedicated to restoring lost world cinema treasures.

Akin's Hamburg-based shingle Corazon is also hard at work on developing a number of the helmer's own projects -- including a proposed biopic of legendary Kurdish filmmaker Yilmaz Guney (who won the 1982 Palm d'Or for "Yol" before dying of cancer in 1984) and the final part of Akin's proposed "Love, Death and the Devil" trilogy -- as well as boosting film industry ties between Germany and Turkey.

The globetrotting exploits of the 34-year-old Hamburg-born son of Turkish immigrants, who won the 2004 Golden Bear at Berlin for "Head-On," are reflected in his work. "Edge of Heaven," which won screenplay awards at this year's Cannes fest and European Film Awards, travels between Germany and Turkey with its meditations of East-West miscommunication and the fractured intersecting lives of a group of ordinary Germans and Turks drawn together by extraordinary events.

Akin has taken an innovative approach to tubthumping the pic in Germany.

"I've toured all over Germany with the film, not just in the big cinemas but in the tiny villages, too," he says. "For a long time, there was this idea that to be a German citizen you had to have German blood. This is a very old-fashioned idea. I am a Turkish-German filmmaker, which means I am a bastard of two cinemas."

Akin's decision to embark on a grassroots campaign to drum up support for his pic may be one of the reasons why Teuton auds have taken the pic -- as much Turkish as it is German -- to their hearts.

As the poster-boy for European multiculturalism, the wunderkind is doing more than most in the film biz to rep a positive face for Turkey as the country's discussions to join the European Union inch ahead amid criticism from some quarters in the West over the nation's human rights record.

"I wanted to add an extra dimension and perspective to how the media have presented Turkey joining the European Union, as I feel that their view can be at times limited," he says.

But he acknowledges the challenges Turkey is facing. The internal battle over the future of the country between the secular traditionalists -- who founded modern-day Turkey in 1923 under the leadership of Kemal Ataturk -- and the current ruling AK party -- whose leaders are devout Muslims -- has been overshadowed by a rise in anti-Kurdish nationalism. The Turkish military's air strikes in December against suspected Kurdish rebel bases in northern Iraq, in retaliation for a series of attacks this year against Turkish targets, threatens to further destabilize a region already reeling from violence.

The situation in Turkey has brought up an ironic, and unwanted, comparison with a dark chapter in the history of Akin's adopted home. "It's like Germany in 1935. This buildup creates anger against Kurdish people," Akin says. "Kurdish people are getting hit in the street, getting their windows smashed. Cinema is a reflection of society, and what I like about Turkish films right now is their dialogue is forcing audiences to deal with these issues."

One such film is "Takva."

Akin's involvement with "Takva," about a devout Muslim living in Istanbul who finds his faith devastatingly tested when he takes on a job as a rent collector for his local imam, was crucial to the film getting made. With a modest budget of $1.6 million, the Turkish side had managed to raise 80% of the financing. It was the friendship between Onder Cakar, who penned the screenplay, and Akin that led to the all-important final coin arriving from funding body Eurimages as well as the Hamburg Film Fund via Akin's shingle Corazon.

The expansion from auterism -- Akin writes and directs all his own projects -- into producing is a longterm shift for the breathless maven. "I love the fact that with producing I can protect my own work. That's why I became a producer," Akin says. "As a filmmaker, you have a story to tell, but maybe one day I won't have anything more to say. At least I'll still have producing left as an option. It's like gambling. You put money in a slot machine and suddenly you have a project."

Article | A Hand That Links Germans and Turks

A Hand That Links Germans and Turks
By NICHOLAS KULISH
Published: January 6, 2008

FATIH AKIN has earned the right to be a little exasperated about the constant focus on his Turkish-German identity.

“Imagine I’m a painter, and we speak more about the background of the paintings than the foreground of the paintings, or we speak about the framing but not about the painting,” said Mr. Akin, a German film director and the son of Turkish immigrants. “For sure this is frustrating, and for sure that’s why I will leave it behind sooner or later.”

But he has not yet abandoned the journeys between Germany and Istanbul that have stood at the center of several of his films — including the breakout success in Europe of his dark, violent love story, “Head-On.” With his latest feature, “The Edge of Heaven,” Mr. Akin has created another film of similar geography but with a very different emotional landscape. It is a movie as much about bridging the gap between generations — father and son, mother and daughter — as between nations and cultures. He has had success with this latest film, for which he was writer, director and a producer, despite enormous expectations at home after “Head-On,” not the least of which were his own.

The film has stood up to scrutiny. “The Edge of Heaven” won the screenwriting prize at Cannes, received critical acclaim in Germany and will represent the country in the competition to be nominated for best foreign-language film at the Academy Awards. The movie is scheduled to open in New York at Film Forum on May 21.

In the meantime Mr. Akin, 34, will travel to the United States this month for his first shoot there. “It makes no sense to love the cinema and not take the chance once you have the possibility to work there, to refuse it,” Mr. Akin said. “If you love the cinema, you have to love America.”

German directors have flocked to Hollywood in recent years — among them, Oliver Hirschbiegel, “The Invasion”; Robert Schwentke, “Flightplan”; and Mennan Yapo, “Premonition.” Though he has had offers, Mr. Akin has not succumbed — and says he will not — to the allure or the financial payoff of a big Hollywood production, as so many of his countrymen have.

“I come from this European auteur thing,” Mr. Akin said. “I’m producing the stuff I’m doing, I’m writing the stuff I’m doing, I’m directing the stuff I’m doing. In the end it’s me on the front line, you know?”

Instead of going to Hollywood, he is making a short film called “Chinatown” for “New York, I Love You,” a follow-up to “Paris, Je T’Aime,” the collection of 18 vignettes that opened in New York last year. “That the first thing I do is, like, a five-minute film on U.S. ground, that feels healthy in a way,” Mr. Akin said in an interview here at the office of his production company, Corazón International.

Beyond his experience as a director, Mr. Akin has worked as a producer, through Corazón, on the Turkish director Ozer Kiziltan’s film “Takva,” also providing technical support in sound and editing. Mr. Akin said he was moved by its story of a humble, religious Turk forced to confront the material world by his promotion to rent collector for his religious group’s properties.

“If Fatih wasn’t involved in the project, it wouldn’t be that successful on the international side,” Mr. Kiziltan said on a sunny afternoon in Istanbul, where he was filming a television show. “If you showed the film with the first script to producers here, they say you can’t find the financing. Now everybody is saying they wish it was their film.” In addition to Germany’s nod for “The Edge of Heaven,” Turkey chose “Takva” for the Oscar foreign-language competition, a double for Mr. Akin.

A gifted raconteur in German and English, Mr. Akin is energetic and quickly engaging. Past collaborators describe his ability to communicate as one of his greatest strengths as a director. Mr. Akin is still based here in Hamburg, where he was born. His offices are just off a stretch of waterfront where a seven-ton anchor stands as a monument to this northern port city’s lifeblood: shipping. On the block sit a string of Portuguese restaurants and a red-brick church built to minister to Scandinavian seafarers a hundred years ago.

It was here that Mr. Akin set his first feature-length movie, “Short Sharp Shock,” a “Mean Streets”-style look at three friends — one Turkish, one Greek and one Serbian — trying to get ahead, or at least survive. He was just 19 when he wrote the screenplay and brought it to the German independent production company Wüste Film, hoping for a movie he could star in. Mr. Akin had been taking small acting roles and was disappointed with the stereotypical hoodlums he was asked to portray. The producers were trying out another director and got the idea of putting Mr. Akin behind the camera.

He had been operating a boom at a test shooting at a beach, remembered Ralph Schwingel, a producer at Wüste. Mr. Schwingel said he asked Mr. Akin what he was doing. The young man answered that he was figuring out how he would shoot the scene if he were the director.

“He was drawing the characters in the sand and wondering where he would put the camera,” Mr. Schwingel said. Using his own money, Mr. Schwingel paid for Mr. Akin to write and direct a short film, so he could learn the craft and also convince potential financial backers that he could pull off a feature. The result was “Short Sharp Shock” in 1998.

The film could have disappeared in the sea of Quentin Tarantino-inspired movie violence produced in the late ’90s, but quiet moments between the Turkish father and his troubled son stand out as more powerful than any spurts of blood in the finale.

“That he was unusually talented was clear very quickly,” said Mr. Schwingel’s partner, Stefan Schubert. The movie was a typical debut, well received but hardly a hit, Mr. Schubert said. In his eyes what set Mr. Akin apart from other German directors was that “he is not afraid to put feelings up on the screen.”

Mr. Akin demonstrated that clearly (if not completely successfully) in his second full-length film, “In July,” a romantic comedy about a German man following a Turkish woman from Hamburg to Istanbul. In his review in The New York Times, A. O. Scott wrote, “Mr. Akin pursues his happy, silly love story without embarrassment, and ‘In July’ is ultimately more endearing than irritating.” But it hardly seemed to herald the arrival of a great director. Neither did the follow-up, “Solino,” about a family of Italian immigrants in Germany.

Then came the surprise triumph of “Head-On,” which won the top prize, the Golden Bear, at the Berlin International Film Festival. Mr. Akin was unprepared for the celebrity it brought him in Germany as well as in Turkey. He was instantly seen as a cultural spokesman, far beyond his role as a filmmaker, to a large extent because of his Turkish roots, at a time when Germans were re-examining their complex relationship with their country’s large Muslim minority. About 2.7 million people of Turkish descent live in Germany today.

Speaking of “Head-On” and the Golden Bear, Dieter Kosslick, director of the Berlin International Film Festival, said, “In a way it was the perfect award because it shows a little bit also the change of our country and the change of our people’s mood about people who have come from different countries.”

Brought over as so-called guest workers decades ago, most of the Turkish migrants never went home. But as a group they have not been embraced by mainstream German society.

For Mr. Akin, who was 30 when he won the Golden Bear, it was hard enough to be the pride of one nation; he had to learn to thrive under the pressure of two and at the same time try to avoid the position of spokesman that had been thrust upon him.

Slouching on a sofa in his office, swaddled in youthful, baggy clothes and tired from the hectic schedule of the international rollout for “The Edge of Heaven,” Mr. Akin seemed far less like a man taking a victory lap than one relieved of a burden but still exhausted from it.

“Until ‘Head-On’ I exactly knew what I was going to do next,” he said. “I’m working on a film, and during the work on that film I knew what would be the next film. But with ‘Head-On’ it was not like that.”

“The more success the film had, the more nervous I became.”

He dealt with the problem in part by making his well-received documentary about music in Istanbul, ”Crossing the Bridge,” instead of beginning another feature.

Ultimately, though, he started to work on “The Edge of Heaven.” In the film a young Turkish-German man goes to Istanbul to find a murdered woman’s daughter, only to decide to stay in Turkey, his father’s homeland, and run a German bookstore in the city. In another strand of the story, a young German woman travels to Istanbul after her lover, a Turkish woman rejected for asylum by Germany and forced to serve prison time.

The film is marked by sudden, unexpected deaths. When tragedy befalls one of the young women, the German girl’s mother, played by the German actress Hanna Schygulla, travels to Istanbul also. Often called Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s muse, Ms. Schygulla, according to many critics, turned in the most affecting performance in the movie.

“It’s a very mature script,” Ms. Schygulla said by telephone from Paris. “I was amazed about that.”

Speaking of Mr. Akin, she said: “He’s a very natural boy. He’s not a boy; he’s a man. But he still has kept something of a boy.” It is a feeling she wants him to hold onto. “I hope he doesn’t get deformed by his success, that he stays the authentic boy he is,” she added.

“The Edge of Heaven” has its similarities in theme and some settings to “Head-On,” but it also reflects a more mature approach. The focus on parents and children may stem from Mr. Akin’s experience of becoming a father in 2005, when he and his wife had a son.

Still, “The Edge of Heaven” takes up the subject of cultural conflict for Turkish migrants that played to such powerful effect in “Head-On.” Those conflicts are universal, Mr. Akin insisted, rather than specific to the two countries. Mr. Akin, whose wife is of Mexican heritage, said that he feels great kinship with the Mexican filmmakers Guillermo Arriaga and Alfonso Cuarón.

“What I’m always trying to say is, this Turkish-German gap, you know, or this connecting element of the two nations, or systems, or worlds — you can change that and put other things instead,” Mr. Akin said. “Mexico and the U.S., same thing.”

Review | 2007 Gezici Festival at Kars

Festival puts on a Wheel-y good show
Turkey takes cinema on the road
By JAY WEISSBERG
KARS, Turkey -- No other festival on earth covers as many miles as Turkey's Festival on Wheels -- more than 25,000 of them by the organizers' reckoning.

Now in its 13th year, the budget is still tight but its success rate in creating audiences and bringing good cinema to provincial cities is nothing short of impressive.

After debuting in Ankara each year, the show literally hits the road, traveling to various regions not just in Turkey but, in recent editions, further afield including Tbilisi, Gerogia.

One city is designated the international hub where filmmakers, journalists and industry folk gather for screenings and workshops. For the past four years Kars, on the Turkish-Armenian border, has been that place.

"When we first came to Kars there were no cinemas," says fest director Basak Emre, so they brought their own 35mm projector and set up screenings in the local community hall.

The festival was such a success with the locals that Mayor Naif Alibeyoglu, a big supporter, had the hall fitted out with projectors, a good screen and Dolby digital so the city now has a fulltime cinema for the first time in years.

Made famous by "Snow," the novel by Nobel Prize winner Orhan Pamuk, Kars bears little resemblance to its fictional namesake, and its liberal atmosphere has proved a fertile ground for an appreciation of the European films at the core of the fest.

This year's edition, which ran Nov. 2-25, in Ankara, Kars, Samsun and Sarajevo, included Estonian pic "The Class," Romania's "The Rest is Silence" and Israel's "My Father, My Lord," as well as recent Turkish pics and a smattering of classics from Bresson to Antonioni.

Not all cities have always been so welcoming and others took time to nurture an audience.

"No one came from Bursa the first year there" recalls Emre, but repeat editions proved enormously popular with the locals.

Funding for this ambitious undertaking comes from a variety of national and regional sources as well as the fest's fairy godmother of sorts, Norwegian oil company Statoil.

REES-465 | Selected Articles (PDF)

NEW ...Film Notes 1-12
ALL 12 NOTES PREPARED FOR REES-465

Plus Modern/Postmodern Philosophy and Film Theory
(click to download 11x17 chart in PDF)

PDF File 1
On Film narrative and Narrative meaning / George Wilson
Notes on Spectator Emotion and Ideological Film Criticism /Carl Plantinga
PDF File 2
The Matrix of Visual Culture/ Patricia Pisters
Chapter 6 (de)Terrorialising Forces of the Sound Machine
PDF File 3
Questions of Genre/ Steve Neale
Towards a Third Cinema/ Fernando Solanas and Octavio Gettino
PDF File 4
Deleuze’s Toolbox and Glossary to Cinema 1 and Cinema 2
PDF File 5
Remapping World Cinema / Identitiy, culture and politics in film
Towards a positive definition of World Cinema/Lucia Nagip
Consuming 'Bollywood' in the global age: the stange case of 'unfine' world cinema/Kushik Bhaumik
PDF File 6
The Real Gaze: Film Theory after Lacan
Introduction Todd McGowan