Films Here is my filmography presented in an unofficial and non-chronological manner that is accompanied by my thoughts. 2020s A Hero of Our Time 2023, Turkey, 120 min A Hero of Our Time (2023) is my debut feature that took eight years to complete, from the first idea to the final edit. It was shot in Pazar, Rize, a small town surrounded by the Black Sea and endless tea plantations in northeastern Turkey, home to me and the Laz People, an indigenous ethnic group of the Caucasus. The film draws inspiration from Lermontov‘s namesake novel, specifically his main character, Pechorin, and more precisely, Lermontov’s brilliant mention of him in the book’s preface: A portrait built up of all our generation’s vices. And my own central character, Mert, likewise reflects a negative generational portrait in contemporary Turkey. He is a mirror of a generation that is resistant to taking responsibility. And, of course, his reflection is a pretty brutal look at both myself and the rest of my generation whom I once considered heroes of our time: A misled tribe that was deceived by the myths of personal development and stuck in the spaces between their envisioned world and the one they inhabit. Interactive Cinema Language This film features 32 static scenes, each captured in a single take. And these scenes aren’t just about what’s on-screen, they’re windows into the unseen world, where actions flow just beyond the frames which are largely guided by the auditory of the film, co-designed with the sound designer, Cenker Kokten. They invite the audience to construct a world in their mind and connect the dots to form characters into a narrative. I’ve experimented with this technique in my short films to adopt interactive cinema language. And now, am now excited to present its refined version in this full-length feature. Since I do not prioritize storytelling or define myself primarily as a storyteller, I also view this method as a middle ground between traditional storytelling and a non-narrative style I actually adore more (I mean creating an atmospheric setting without following any particular story). You can also think of this film as a painting collection. But there might be missing pieces, hidden narratives, or events that aren’t what they appear to be. I’ve curated a collection of moments, but I don’t expect the audience to accept it wholly. I don’t demand an emotional transaction or identification with characters. Instead, I invite the audience to be part of the creative team. Even if one thinks that I made a judgment on a character or event, it has to be our collaborative act. So I actually address the film to individuals who are potentially my collaborators. And, let me mention my absolute collaborators in creating this incomplete narrative: Mert Yasar, with whom I developed the characters when the idea first arose, and Emre Halisdemir who made critical contributions to the plot structure from the shootings to the last day of editing. Visuals As you can notice from the stills, my cinematography differs from the drama of high-contrast cinematic visuals. I prefer flatter visuals, where shadows and highlights blend, and the focus is allocated equally to all corners of the frame. Think of it as genre paintings such as the works of Jan Steen and Pieter Bruegel the Elder. You might also spot some visual resemblances with the artistic flavors of Swedish director Roy Andersson. Here is Jan Steen’s The Dancing Couple (1663). I used his paintings as references for indoor settings, particularly for framing. Here is Bruegel’s Fall of Icarus (1560). I used his paintings as references for outdoor settings, particularly his use of color palettes. To create depth with colors, I followed his approach of using brown, green, and blue from the foreground to the background. I borrowed not only Bruegel’s visual style but also his narrative approach for some of my scenes. Bruegel often subtly embeds his main subject within a larger panorama (look at the fallen Icarus’s legs in the bottom right). This is a clever technique that can easily be overlooked while the audience observes everything else in the painting. It is a subtle narrative style and gives space to the audience to make their input. Similarly, I used some specific visual elements in the film as narrative devices and left them to the audience to discover and connect them. But they are not symbols or metaphors, they maintain their concrete existence while having a role in the narrative. I must mention the colorist, Burak Turan, whose skills perfectly align with my style, as he reflected my intentions in the visuals. Posters We collaborated with illustrator Isin Fidan to create the poster image that features our hero in the exact replication of Anthony van Dyck‘s Charles Louis, the King of Bohemia, with slight modifications. The image also resembles Lermontov’s iconic portrait which is a popular choice for his book cover designs. Rather than just a reflection of the film, I wanted the poster to become a narrative device, specifically a red herring (intentional misleading): a subtle diversion for the audience that leads them to unexpected interpretations. So the idea was to depict him not just as he appears in the film. Actually, I intended to use the original piece as a reference for a unique approach. However, I realized my admiration lay not in the appearance of a 17th-century king but in Van Dyck’s style, which leads us to imitate this grandmaster. I don’t know what Isin feels about it, but I welcome that guilt with pride. You can access the high-resolution versions of the posters on our Patreon page. Trailer Where can I watch the film? You can access the film on our Patreon page. Check out the screening calendar for the upcoming screenings. Watch excerpts on YouTube. Theatrical Release The film was theatrically released in five cities (Rize, Trabzon, Izmir, Istanbul, and Malatya) in Turkey on May 3, 2024. I am proud that we distributed it through our own distribution company based in Rize, despite all the obstacles from the film industry. Find the trailer for the Turkish Theatrical Release here. Screenings 10th October 2023, Antalya Golden Orange Film Festival, Antalya, Turkey: The scheduled screening got canceled, just like the whole festival itself, all thanks to the political chaos in my country and a herd mentality (solidarity they say) among filmmakers. So, it all started when the festival removed a film (I will not mention its title to avoid further advertising) from the competition at the request of the Ministry of Culture in Turkey, which is one of the sponsors of the festival. The Ministry claimed the film contained terrorist propaganda. Subsequently, the jury issued an ultimatum of resigning as the Ministry’s demand was perceived as censorship. The jury wanted the film back, meanwhile, filmmakers issued another ultimatum of withdrawing their films from the festival. And, when the festival announced that it had taken back the film, the Ministry withdrew its sponsorship from the festival. Absurdly, the film was removed from the selection by the festival once more, but with nearly all filmmakers already having withdrawn their films, the festival found itself without any entries and it was canceled. As I know that all institutions all over the world may have sensitivities on certain issues, I consider such conflicts to be typical (they are often executed with the means of cancel culture, whereas in our context, ultimatums tend to be more prevalent). So, my interest in this matter was the filmmakers’ point of view rather than the Ministry’s or the festival’s approach. In general, my thoughts on censorship align with Abbas Kiarostami‘s views. To me, deliberately provoking authority is a shortsighted approach and a cheap form of advertisement through victimization. Filmmakers should have the wisdom to manage all forms of censorship, and their way of struggle must be intelligent, creative, and perhaps strategic. By adopting a similar approach, Iranian filmmakers have created a new form of cinema under authoritarian pressures (those who understand Turkish or Iranian, check out this video to listen to Kiarostami’s opinions on censorship and dealing with authority). So, I had foreseen the potential cancellation of the festival at that time and advised filmmakers to take a more creative, rather than destructive approach to prevent it. I suggested to attend the festival, as our presence, even without a jury or competition, would honor the efforts of both the film crews and the festival staff. We could undertake more impactful actions, and meanwhile, we could have time to evaluate and understand the situation’s underlying truth more accurately. But filmmakers were already very dedicated as if they were waiting for this moment. So, they copied the jury’s stance and withdrew their films. But I did not. Personally and principally, I don’t prefer to partake in collective actions that do not involve productivity. I believe real solidarity is achieved through production and creation. This is something I have learned exactly through filmmaking. Of course, I understand that some of the filmmakers’ decisions were emotional, as I can empathize with the sense of injustice they feel. However, those activist reactions seemed to be more political rather than emotional. You know, people often seek to save their name based on their political stance and they act in accordance with it without considering the events or facts. I wonder why those filmmakers did not also boycott most European Film Festivals for excluding innocent Russian filmmakers due to the Russian-Ukrainian war. Those festivals have long overlooked Russian culture in favor of boycotts while they have prioritized specific groups and trendy topics, as they often do (nowadays, they show similar favoritism or discrimination against Israelis or (Pro)Palestinians, depending on their stance). In any case, it seems that actions opposing authority in Turkey sell better for our filmmakers, they garner more attention from their target audience. So, in fact, their actions mostly align with opportunist and even capitalist motivations. They tend to appeal to specific segments of society with their boycott because it sells (ironically even the anti-capitalist discourses are preferred because IT SELLS). Of course, like everyone, I also have capitalist tendencies. My films are my capital, and I naturally tend to seek potential profits from them, even though I perceive them as art. There is nothing wrong with it. But, this doesn’t imply that I’ll do anything for financial gain or any opportunity. I try to be rational and reasonable at the same time. Filmmakers assumed that the Ministry was intentionally attempting to ruin the festival. In fact, this is the same Ministry that has sponsored the festival with the same management for years. What reason would they have to fabricate such claims this year? I understand that we can attribute the source of all these problems to authorities with our conspiracy theories, but there is no point in wasting time on it. Perhaps it would be beneficial to consider their actions with empathy. You know, if you claim to be smart, it is your responsibility to empathize with the other party with whom you have a conflict and devise solutions accordingly. If you can’t do this, perhaps you are not as smart as you believe (or perhaps you find it more beneficial to be a professional victim than a filmmaker). To me, the festival had to be held no matter what. But, no. Now, I am afraid that this incident will increase the pressure on pre-selection committees. They may start excluding films they find problematic beforehand as they will be afraid of similar conflicts and potential cancellations of their festivals. So, when censorship is in place, we won’t even be aware of it (this is actually already happening all over the world through favoritism, gatekeeping, and backstage politics). Anyway, authority or not, it doesn’t matter which side it came from, filmmakers increased fear with their stance. Ironically, they view it as a positive development and take pride in it. However, they couldn’t escape being involved in a process that led to a disaster for the film and festival crews, as well as the audience. So, just like we face challenges and develop creative solutions in the process of making a film, we faced a similar task in this particular incident. And, to me, it was clear that boycotting, declaring cliché statements, and spreading hashtags were not methods of creating a solution. As you can imagine, my independent stance on this issue has led to a backlash against me. I am labeled as an authority defender. Surely, there is no need to fuss about it, I accept this as a normal part of my experiences. Interestingly, the responses from individuals or institutions in Turkey seem more predictable and, in a way, more innocent by comparison. They seem just regular social justice warriors. I must say, I have encountered far more cruel and insidious reactions in other countries, including those that are considered more democratic and diverse. (Note: In a broader context, I believe the predominant issue of filmmakers today is not censorship at all, it is all about self-censorship which I discussed in this post.) 9th December 2023, Bosphorus Film Festival, Istanbul, Turkey: The screening took place at the historical Atlas 1948 cinema. From a technical standpoint, I was highly satisfied. Attendance was low, and approximately half of the theatre was unoccupied (typically, this festival was also being protested by the godfathers of the independent film industry because of another political issue, so it did not attract much attention). However, the audience in attendance showed enthusiasm. There were even a few film enthusiasts who had seen my previous short films and closely followed my works. The festival was well organized. We won the Best First Film Award in the competition. People from left to right: Berat Efe Pullu, Mirac Atabey, Mert Yasar, Emre Halisdemir, Tugba Guven Kurt, Nurhan Halisdemir, Gokhan Baris, Mustafa Kandemir, Hayrettin Halisdemir, Nurettin Kadioglu, Emine Kadioglu, Emrah Gulsen, Hatice Demircioglu 24th March 2024, Sinematek/Sinema Evi, Istanbul, Turkey: This screening was organized by FilmKoop. It was at Sinematek/Sinema Evi, a special place that has the cinematheque culture that you may encounter around the world. Despite its small size, the theater has good quality. As usual, the attendance was low, but, this screening hosted remarkable figures of Turkish Cinema, including Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Following the screening, we had a conversation, and their feedback was unrealistically positive and sincere. You can watch the English-subtitled Q&A session here. 3rd Mary 2024, CineGalaxy, Rize, Turkey: The screening in Rize, where our film was filmed and our company is based, was part of the theatrical release of our film in Turkey. The film theater was spacious, comfortable, and of higher quality than average. I couldn’t have imagined being able to experience our film in this quality in Rize. The attendance exceeded our expectations, and the passion of the audience was encouraging as most of their feedback was very thoughtful. This event might be a first for our city, which typically doesn’t have much exposure to such film events which are broadly centralized in Istanbul or other big cities. People from left to right: Gokhan Baris, Nurettin Kadioglu, Emine Kadioglu, Mirac Atabey, Yilmaz Atabey, Evrim Cervatoglu, Ahmet Mutlu Festival Circuit As the festival circuit period comes to a close, I want to share a little note. I am often asked why the film was not featured more widely in film festivals. “Did you submit to Festival X?” Yes, I have submitted to most festivals. Some programmers even contacted me personally to watch and evaluate the film. But, the outcome was consistent: rejection or silence. Of course, festivals are not the only measure of a film’s merit, many are just promotional platforms that prioritize trendy topics and personalities. But, I still did not expect to be ignored to such an extreme and absurd degree. So, it is a clear disappointment in my case. But, as a student of Marcus Aurelius, I welcome failure just as much as success. So, here’s a list of film festivals that rejected my film: Berlin, Cannes, Locarno, Venice, Toronto, San Sebastian, Busan, Tokyo, MedFilm, 3 Continents, Manheim, Kathmandu, Rotterdam, Sundance, Vilnius, Sofia, Fribourg, Trento, IndieLisboa, Seattle, Tribeca, Karlovy Vary, Sarajevo, Bergamo, Jeonju, Transilvania, Shanghai Set Photo People standing, from left to right: Melike Kal, Okan Kal, Kadir Vatandas, Ahmet Canbaz, Selahattin Cerrah, Evrim Cervatoglu, Ahmet Mutlu, Dursunali Oral, Emrah Gulsen, Mustafa Kandemir, Emre Halisdemir, Hayrettin Halisdemir, Gokhan Baris, Ebru Terzi, Mirac Atabey People sitting, from left to right: Osman Zafer Demircelik, Yilmaz Atabey Credits The list of people that I collaborated with: Emre Halisdemir, Mert Yasar, Gokhan Baris, Yilmaz Atabey, Ugur Telatar, Emrah Gulsen, Mustafa Kandemir, Elvan Canakoglu, Evrim Cervatoglu, Ahmet Mutlu, Berat Efe Pullu, Nurhan Halisdemir, Hatice Demircioglu, Tugba Guven Kurt, Cemil Kutsal Biber, Erkan Ataman, Kemal Erman, Nurettin Kadioglu, Emine Kadioglu, Mert Naiboglu, Emrah Birben, Danis Sezgin, Okan Kal, Melike Kal, Ebru Terzi, Ali Eren Guven, Burak Turan, Utku Urlu, Cenker Kokten, Alper Ozsen, Ali Oren, Okan Kal, Isin Fidan, Melissa Lara Clissold You can find details regarding their roles on our production company’s website. Contributions: Antalya International Film Forum Script Development and Project Design Workshop, San Sebastian Film Festival Work in Progress Europa Selection. Financial supports: Ministry of Culture and Tourism in Turkey Scriptwriting and Production Fund, Malatya International Film Platform Script Development Award, Meeting Point – Vilnius Lithuania Work in Progress Award, MedFilm International Film Festival Work in Progress Award. Private funders: Hasan Kadioglu, Dogan Akaroglu, Ali Yasar Kahya, Suleyman Kesimal, Akin Kemal Memisoglu, Turan Karahan, Neset Cakir, Nurettin Ince, Adem Kanber, Leyla Veyisoglu, Yahya Terzi, Zeki Kaboglu, Pazar Ticaret ve Sanayi Odasi, Pazar Ziraat Odasi, 53-8 Cay Ekiciler Kooperatifi, Pazar 4 No’lu Motorlu Tasiyicilar Kooperatifi, Selale Restoran, Ozben AVM, Yaylaci Ticaret Patreon supporters: Canan Pehlivanoglu, Halil Ibrahim Karaca, Kaveh Vares, Maxwell McIntosh, Rezan Ugurlu, Ezgi Coskun, Serkan Yellice, Oguz Tarhan, Elena Kuznetsova, Mei Ling Li, Cemal Aksu, Luka Vidmar, Gabor Nagy, Amira Zayed, Can Ertan, Ercole Caruso (Once the picture was locked, we couldn’t include all the supporters in the film credits. So, I have specified the rest of them here. If you still don’t spot your name, that means you’ll be in upcoming projects.) + Our $10,000 in-kind post-production award got lost in translation somewhere in Kyiv: We won this in-kind award at the Boat Meeting Co-Production Market in Ukraine. And we contacted the sponsor company, Star Media, to use it. We asked for color correction, but they said that they could only provide a studio, not a colorist. Next, we went for Foley, and they confirmed it (btw dealing with them was like waiting for a snail that could send a single reply to e-mails every two weeks). After two months, we were all set for the Foley recording, but they said that they couldn’t do it. Their excuse: They have recording facilities for TV projects, not for cinema. In fact, the Foley recording doesn’t change according to project type that much. They differ at the mixing stage. Anyway, whether it is true or not, it would have been better to know that upfront, but no. And this whole slow-paced e-mail traffic messed with our timeline. They even absurdly offered that they could help us with our next project. To me, it’s like ordering disappointments beforehand. So, we gave it up. I reached out to festival managers regarding this issue but they remained silent. Even I reported it to FIAPF, but they said they couldn’t do a thing. Now, because of this conflict with a Ukrainian organization (ironically, the sponsor company is from Russia), I can observe that there is skepticism over our project from festivals that declared unconditional support for Ukraine. Sure, I’m worried about the war, but that doesn’t change the fact that the Molodist Film Festival, or Boat Meeting, or rather the sponsor company, defrauded us. All that messed up our financial plan and post-production schedule. And the war wasn’t even on the horizon when all this happened. So, it appears to be a challenge to deal with those festivals that demand a high level of political correctness on certain issues from filmmakers. Some even can’t bear to hear of Lermontov‘s name, simply because he is from Russia. You know, in the old days, there were religious figures who condemned people as sinners, and today, it is likely to encounter their equivalents, especially in the world of art and culture. They give you such a piece of paper as an award, but when it is time to deliver the service, you are treated like a dog given a bone. Many of these are just advertising campaigns for festivals and companies. Even if you can use their services, they might deliver poor work and then discard you. Further Reading Other posts where I mention A Hero of Our Time (2023): Our Old Friends Jukebox for My Films We Are All Re-mixers Separation in the Film Theatre How I Met My Kindred Spirit You Don’t Have to Be a Cinema Genius San Sebastian Syndrome My Damned Film is Now Available 2010s Permutations 2016, Portugal, 24 min In 2016, as I approached the final step of my master’s degree in documentary filmmaking at the University of Lusofna in Portugal, I found myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty regarding my graduation project. Back then, I believed that cinema should stand alone as pure audiovisual art, with notions like subject, theme, dramatic structure, conflict, and characters seen as intruding viruses from other disciplines. Therefore, I committed to a certain audiovisual form and style while neglecting all else. I aimed to capture painting-like static shots similar to Roy Andersson‘s. But I wanted to infuse real-life locations and real people instead of the studio backdrop he chose. My goal wasn’t to replicate reality but to paint an artistic aura onto the actual world around me. So, I wanted to convert my daily surroundings into my artistic medium. And I started the work without any predefined concepts. I let the subject and its themes organically emerge as I worked on the film (that sounds a bit like James Benning‘s early works, but I hadn’t discovered him yet at that time). Making of In the Portuguese town of Ericeira, I found the perfect playground for my project. Along the Atlantic coast, this place welcomes surfers from across Europe every weekend and quiets down during weekdays. So, I got the chance to turn my vision into a film, as the town itself became my open studio. Throughout the project, I followed strict guidelines: I committed to using images taken in a single, static shot with a 20mm lens. I split the frames horizontally into thirds: the near, the middle, and the far. And, into every part, I embedded precise visual elements and added depth to the space. The depth of field always remained sharp. I focused on the repetitive incidents within the chosen frames. Picture this: A pair of dogs fenced in a house’s courtyard. They howl at those who pass by. It is a daily affair and a repetitive routine. I noted these kinds of events and then made up parallel incidents that could harmonize with them. As an illustration, envision this: The dogs howl at a motorcyclist passing by. But this motorcyclist is an actor I employed. So with similar strategies, I captured some daily life scenes. Visuals Every shot was independent, but they all had familiar characters and objects. These shared elements didn’t create a narrative line, but, for sure, viewers could still interpret them. Because they are taught by the films they’ve seen. They always pick up certain patterns, and they tend to link this with that. So, when I pieced together these scenes, I had to play to these tendencies by shuffling them. I flipped a few links that may occur and took a wild guess at what might click with the audience. I embed key pieces where they would find out, or maybe hide them so slyly that even keen eyes might miss them at first glance. So each new find is a fresh chance to spin a new narrative line. And any newfound discovery could destroy what they thought they knew about the narrative so far. As I later used in my first feature film, this technique is similar to that of Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel, who subtly embeds his main subject into a panorama. Take The Census of Bethlehem and Fall of Icarus as instances of this artful method (check out this post, where my admiration for his works is on full display). Audiovisual Tricks When I started filming, I wasn’t aiming to create a narrative line. My key aim was for viewers to take in these frames just like they watch a painting and appreciate each frame on its own. But, try as I might, the viewers would keep on with an interpretation practice. And if I ignored this reality, my film would’ve been seen in a whole other direction than I intended. A universally accepted dramatic structure could potentially transform my work into a predictable piece, something I definitely didn’t sign up for. So considering the audience’s tendencies, I created a structure that doesn’t seek unanimous agreement. I didn’t just stick to visuals and their order, but I dealt with sound manipulation too. Creating a world beyond the screen with sounds, I let viewers ponder what lies beyond the edges in the off-screen space while they watch the scenes. I was fortunate with the sound mixer, Tiago Matos (arranged by my university) who put in extra effort to grasp my intentions. So, mixing all these, I made a film that plays with the audience like in a game. It’s a constant invitation to the imagination that keeps the audience engaged and allows narratives to be created in countless permutations, depending on the dots they choose to connect. Audience’s Role You know the old cliché about art films not giving a care about the audience. Some filmmakers accept this notion as an alternative to populism. But I think they bark up the wrong tree. Making your work for the audience isn’t the same as conforming to their preferences. To me, all art is made for an imaginary audience that might be a mix of people from different places and eras. Abbas Kiarostami wisely reflects on the role of the audience in the cinema by suggesting that in the upcoming century of film, an appreciation for the audience’s intellect and creative input will become an important element. He proposes a shift from the traditional notion of directors as only authorities. He implies that filmmakers should also consider the perspective of the audience. For a century, cinema has been in the hands of filmmakers, but Kiarostami envisions a future where the audience becomes a creative part of its evolution. So my method aligns closely with this notion. I play the role of the audience in this film and capture the scenes I desire while I am aware of my imaginary audience. Pre-Permutations and Post-Permutations The significance of this film lies in my portrayal of how the audience contributes to the entire cinematic experience and my approach to them. This is why I divided my filmography into Pre-Permutations and Post-Permutations eras during the 2010s, and I let this film shine extra bright here even though the instructors at the university didn’t give it much attention (they probably didn’t even feature in my imaginary audience). Trailer Where can I watch the film? You can access the film on our Patreon page. Credits The list of people that I collaborated with: Nicole Carp, Okan Kal, Tracie Holder, Susana Barriga, Tiago Matos, Marco Amaral, Margarida Cardoso, Tiago Hespanha, Victor Candeias You can find details regarding their roles on our production company’s website. Contributions: This film is linked to my master’s degree project in the DocNomads program, which titled Observing Through the Complex Image and Off-Screen Space in Documentary Filmmaking Further Reading Other posts where I mention Permutations (2016): Jukebox for My Films Pre-Permutations era The Hawk (2013) The Hawk (2013) is a one-shot three-minute microfilm, that is made as a ticket (application film) to the DocNomads master’s program. It echoed the style I would later refine in Permutations (2016). In this film, I tried to keep the audience’s attention within a single frame by using the subtle movements of the actors and objects, both within and outside the frame. You can watch the film here: The list of people that I collaborated with: Mustafa Kandemir, Fatma Kosoglu, Yilmaz Atabey, Mustafa Atabey Downtown (2014) Downtown (2014), is a twenty-minute short film in which I explored existential themes. While echoing the naturalistic style of The Hawk (2013), this film took a different route. It centers around a few days in the life of a high school teen and invites the audience to witness the moments in his everyday existence. So, I attempted to discover my personal Antoine Doniel territory. This film was my wild experiment that allowed my creative instincts to run freely. Sadly, luck wasn’t on its side. Even though it got selections at some festivals, it was never screened due to cancellations. Here is the list of scheduled screenings: The first scheduled screening, Ankara Film Fest, 2015: All screenings were canceled due to a protest against censorship. The Second shot, Los Angeles Turkish Film Fest, 2016: The event was canceled due to sponsor troubles. They even made me buy a ticket and then refused to cover the cancellation fee. So, I decided to keep the ticket and fly to LA anyway (Thankfully, I had a blast for a week with my Mexican friend). The Third try, Edirne Film Fest, 2016: A prior LGBTQ+ film caused a controversy among elderly audiences, and the theater emptied before my film got a chance. The fourth attempt, Fil’m Hafizasi Event in Istanbul, 2016: The event was canceled because of a terrorist attack in Taksim, Istanbul. The fifth go: Some academics from the UK supposedly hosted a private screening, but I’m in the dark about the whole event. So, as you see, they all ended up with disappointments. Another issue with the film is that I followed the naive director’s guide. I added my personal interpretations and symbols into the mix and I aimed to create meanings from the chaos. Looking back, I label this approach a cinematic malady that effected me during that era. Here is an excerpt from the film: You can watch another excerpt here. The list of people that I collaborated with: Emre Halisdemir, Mert Yasar, Ali Eren Guven, Yilmaz Atabey, Nurettin Kadioglu, Emine Kadioglu, Danis Sezgin Further Reading Other posts where I mention Downtown (2014): The Tyrant Behind the Camera Stove (2012) The Stove (2012) is a six-minute short film revolving around a man who sneaks into a fisher’s shelter with the intent of stealing food, but upon encountering a stove, he stays in there and willingly faces the consequences. His longing for a home evolves into a consuming desire, which was a transformation I aimed to capture. Later, I wanted to make a connection between this film and Downtown (2014) under the theme of the longing for a home, not only material but also social and even spiritual manner. So, a short film trilogy was on the horizon, and actually, it was completed later on with Yard (2018). But this trilogy idea was exactly what I meant by the cinematic malady. I developed thematic concepts centered around symbols while aiming for a thesis. It is a sickness. You know, it catches every filmmaker at least once, just like measles. But it’s hanging out with the audience too. Some people always hunt for meanings through thematic symbols. They see metaphors in everything. They create allegories. Of course, I am not against anybody doing this exercise of the mind. But, to me, a filmmaker should not construct a film upon symbols to be decoded, for then the film turns into just a tool. A film is not a vessel to ferry an idea or notion. It should brew up its own meaning, and be an idea in its own right. But, back then, I didn’t quite get this insight. But we live, we learn, right? Here is the trailer of the film: The list of people that I collaborated with: Mert Yasar, Serhat Atasaral, Recep Ekmekci The Children of The Rain (2011) The Children of the Rain (2011) is a twenty-minute short film that has a very evident approach: Activism. It addressed anti-nuclear efforts while dealing with a proposed power plant in a small town that is still recovering from the aftermath of the Chernobyl disaster. l will be clear: this film does not seem like a cinematic attempt, it is more like an audiovisual activism. And now, it seems to me that activism is a potential threat to the film world as socio-politically inclined content overshadows other cinematic pieces. I believe the power of art comes from raising long-term empathy. Activism, though, tends to zoom in on quick wins and expects immediate results, which is not feasible. Paradoxically, pushing too hard with activism might converse its impact. These activist films direct viewers to a false sense of accomplishment. People watch them, ponder the issue, and perhaps share them with friends, feel like they’ve done their bit. Unfortunately, often the real, action-demanding problems remain unsolved. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not painting activism as evil, it has its merits, but slotting it as cinema is just misguided. Filmmakers shouldn’t feel pressured to defend causes. I believe their art lies in expressing their personal agenda. Those days, I cared for others’ expectations. But let’s not forget to appreciate artists just for the act of creation. The expectations, sometimes, should just let them be. Another anecdote I might share is that this film got over a million views on the internet, mostly from Turkish viewers. This was a time when YouTube and other social media hadn’t yet become the giants they are today. Even so, the film found its way to reach people on nearly every social media platform. But there was a problem with this popularity. Some people (even some big news channels) were stealing the content from the original source and uploading it somewhere else without my permission. I was tired of claiming my copyright, and after a while, I decided to completely remove the film from public access. Even though years have passed, I still deal with these thieves. And now, those viewership figures are nothing more than cold and impersonal statistics to me. Here is a still from the film: The list of people that I collaborated with: Emre Halisdemir, Mert Yasar, Betul Azmanoglu, Nurettin Kadioglu, Okan Kal On the Square (2015) In addition to these films, I’ve got many unreleased student short films from the Pre-Permutations era. Most of them were shot for specific educational purposes, so I’ve left them out of my filmography. However, I want to mention On the Square (2015), a five-minute one-take film co-directed by my classmate, the great and only Cecilia Bandeira. Imagine a glimpse at the face of a young woman, lost in anticipation at a renowned square in Budapest. Who she is, who she waits for, remains a mystery. And as we join her in silent contemplation the city’s melody gradually fades away. Here is a still from the film: The list of people that I collaborated with: Cecilia Bandeira, Tamas Almasi, Attila Kekesi While I have a deep affection for this film, I’ve decided to remove its accessibility because the girl featured in the film was unaware of her appearance. And, I haven’t been able to contact her. Anyway, to watch the other mentioned films from my Pre-Permutations days, check out our Patreon page (and, of course, I am leaving those unreleased works for future film historians to uncover). Post-Permutations era Yard 2018, Turkey, 15 min Yard (2018) is the final act of my short film trilogy, which also includes Stove (2012) and Downtown (2014). As I mentioned earlier, this trilogy was originally an exploration of the longing for a home theme, each approached from different angles. In this film, my filmmaking approaches intertwined. In Permutations (2016) I developed my observations on what is around, but in Yard (2018) I dared to construct a whole set for it. Picture this: Capturing a traditional Muslim funeral ritual with one fixed shot and blending the frame with the movements of actors on and offstage. Just like a moving painting. Evolution of the Idea I constructed an ideal set for the film. But I must confess that the moving painting idea fell short. The choreography I had in mind for the actors took longer than my estimation. And, the scene lacked the dynamism to keep the audience engaged. So my musings on paper failed on the stage. Then, one day luck stepped in. While lazing around the set, a trail of smoke emerged across the valley. The smoke ascended gradually and injected a subtle dynamism into the view. Alongside a colleague, I brainstormed the smoke’s origin. Odds were, the villagers made a fire to make molasses from grapes, due to the vintage season. That smoke activated me, and a fresh idea emerged. Drawing from my approach in Permutations (2016), I decided to focus on the rhythm of the space. So I decided to create a situation with the chosen frame’s organic elements. I wondered, what would be the connection between the funeral and the smoke? This question pushed me beyond my observations and a narrative emerged: The smoke could hold the key to a post-funeral event. Here are snapshots from the production design phase: Audiovisual Tricks Now, how could I infuse a post-funeral event into the film? Of course, I played with sound elements. I wanted the audience to guess and engage with the help of sounds. In Permutations (2016), I only worked on ambiance sounds, but in Yard (2018) I included dialogues. I went for a simple idea: Starting with a naturalistic funeral ceremony right up front, then blackouting the screen. Using sounds, I created an atmosphere that felt like night. And I embed a conversation between two unseen men in the darkness. From here on, it was all about the progression through sounds and dialogues, much like a radio play (for a glimpse of it, you can watch an excerpt here). Robert Bresson claimed that the eye craves when the ear is fed, and vice versa. I took this to heart. So, I satisfied viewers’ eyes with the funeral scene. I even removed all spoken sounds and only let the visuals speak. Then following the dark screen urged the audience to open their ears and listen. For ten minutes, they experienced the two men’s dialogue only through their voices against the dark backdrop. As the film neared its end, the darkness gave way to light as the day broke and incidents hidden beyond the yard were uncovered with the smoke rising. Here are the storyboards drawn by the Spanish artist Guillermo Gomez Moreno: Thematic-driven Approaches and Film Titles As for its place within the trilogy, Yard (2018) explores the spiritual homelessness of individuals which is a progression from material and social homelessness examined in my prior works. A thematic trilogy if you will accept. But, to be honest, I’ve lost my admiration for such thematic constructs. They feel like banal tools for shallow artistic promotion. But the trilogy has already earned the label as Homeless Trilogy, and feel free to read between the lines as you like. You know, in an ideal world, perhaps we wouldn’t need labels or names for films. After all, they are audiovisual creations, while names are literary elements. The American painter James McNeill Whistler seemed to get it right. His most famous painting, a portrait of his mother, is titled Arrangement in Gray and Black No. 1, which emphasizes the form over all else. Of course, there are also similar examples in films such as 11×14 (1977) by James Benning or Ten (2002) by Abbas Kiarostami, that emphasize the number of sequences or their duration. Actually, I adopted a similar approach to Permutations (2016) to underline the structure of the film. However, this is not a marketable technique in the world of cinema. In this context, I also like Romanian director Cristi Puiu’s attempt: He named one of his films Sieranevada (2016) which has no apparent connection to the film’s content or form. So, he mocked the interpretations that would inevitably revolve around the title. Many titles are like spoilers in disguise, they can mess with the audience’s imagination. Some directors even add some quotes or explanations at the beginning of their films. It pulls me out of the film’s audiovisual world before I even get into the flow. It feels like they’re sabotaging the medium. The title of my debut feature film, A Hero of Our Time (2023), carries a different kind of impact. It shares a title with Lermontov’s classic novel, which might seem a bit misleading. Because the audience might expect a cinematic experience of the book or Russian literature. The reality is that I only borrowed a motif from the novel to create an anti-hero, and the outcome strayed far from both the novel and its character. But, I am satisfied with this uncertainty surrounding the film. I even had the poster designed to stand apart from the film’s world and set up deliberate misdirection. I think giving the audience those red herrings (intentional misleadings) leads them to unexpected and fresh interpretations when they start watching the film. Anyway, moving beyond the titles, these three short films share a cinematic universe, and that’s actually enough to connect them organically into a trilogy. But what truly matters to me now is creating a visual and auditory experience that establishes a direct connection with the audience beyond any predetermined theme. Communication with Audience In 2019, I stumbled upon a review of Yard (2018), written by university students who also awarded the film at the Trento Film Festival in Italy. I didn’t meet them and never told a single detail about my film to them. But when I translated their words from Italian, a warm realization got me. My cinematic attempts perfectly conveyed to them. So I thought that was how communication should work. A Filmmaking Method Surely, Yard (2018) marked a turning point in my cinematic exploration and shaped my style. Also, my process for making a film became distinctly defined: Framing a landscape Observing the setting within the frame Integrating the setting’s organic elements into a possible or incomplete narrative Flaws and all, this trio of short films has been my personal cinematic academy and documentation of my vision in progress. Poster While working in his garden, Mert Yasar, the art director in this film, asked his grandfather for a quick photo shoot with his mobile phone. His grandfather’s untrained eye led to a charming composition. I polished it a bit for the poster. Of course, this image doesn’t directly connect with the film but its textures are harmonious with the film’s visuals. Trailer Where can I watch the film? You access to the film on our Patreon page. Screenings International Film Festival Rotterdam, Trento Film Festival, Vilnius International Film Festival, Dokufest International Short Film Festival, Rio de Janeiro International Short Film Festival, MedFilm International Film Festival, International Film Festival of Uruguay, Lille International Short Film Festival, Tetova International Film Festival, Leggimontagna International Film Festival Set Photo (photographed by Ugur Dizman) People standing, from left to right: Veysel Biliciler, Osman Kaya, Nazim Kurtulus, Yusuf Akbal, Metin Atasaral, Enver Ergenc, Seref Atabey, Ali Kemal Ozdilek, Maksut Azakli, Yilmaz Atabey, Zeki Atabey, Ahmet Canbaz, Zehra Canbaz, Nurettin Kadioglu, Nevin Akpulat, Caner Akpulat, Koksal Kaynar, Veysel Kandemir, Mustafa Kandemir, Hasan Kadioglu, Danis Sezgin, Omer Kiymaz, Nejla Demircelik, Bora Ince, Hayrettin Halisdemir People sitting, from left to right: Mustafa Kosoglu, Filiz Bayraktutan Sayin, Fatma Kosoglu, Utku Kosoglu, Asiye Kose, Yigitcan Kosoglu, Yigitcan Sarioglu, Emine Ozdilek, Emine Kadioglu, Nurhan Halisdemir, Zeliha Tuncer, Mirac Atabey, Emre Halisdemir Credits The list of people that I collaborated with: Emre Halisdemir, Mert Yasar, Ali Eren Guven, Guillermo Gomez Moreno, Mustafa Kandemir, Danis Sezgin You can find details regarding their roles on our production company’s website. Financial support: Ministry of Culture and Tourism in Turkey Production Fund If you are curious about what’s cooking next, check the Works in Progress page.