Movies to Watch From Turkey

La Chimera is often meandering. Scenes flitter about and move at different paces, resembling dreams more than they do reality, but they’re hardly trivial. Just the opposite, they enchant you with their beauty and confront you with deep, existential questions that haunt you long after the film’s run. You won’t find obvious answers here though, and you might even leave more perplexed than when you began. But that is the beauty of a film like La Chimera, it cracks you open to different realms and possibilities.

Given the controversial subject matter, there’s something remarkably placid about the way About Dry Grasses proceeds. Amidst the snowy white steppes of Eastern Anatolia, writer-director Nuri Bilge Ceylan slowly lets the plot unfold through multiple conversations, where an accusation of inappropriate contact leads to a he-said, she-said investigation, all centered around a misanthropic protagonist Samet. By focusing the entire film on Samet, Ceylan takes the time to understand this difficult, exhausting character in a detached manner, with the camera oftentimes taking in the whole lived-in, rundown places where Samet lives and works in. It’s an interesting perspective, depicting the ways everyone’s fumbling around, trying to create boxes to understand one’s place in the world, but it’s not an easy one to explore. About Dry Grasses dares to do so, anyway.

The Swimmers tells the true story of sisters Yusra and Sara Mardini (played by fellow sisters Nathalie and Manal Issa), Syrian swimmers trained to compete at the Olympics. When their athletic goals and overall safety are threatened by the increasing presence of war, the girls decide to take a chance and migrate to Europe, where they hope to live out their dreams and reunite with their family someday.

The Swimmers is a touching family drama that does right to center on the love and tension between the siblings. Yusra and Sara’s relationship perfectly encapsulates the envy and resentment but also the deep love and loyalty that are present in every sister bond. It’s tender in these moments, but it can also be equally searing—as a refugee drama, it chillingly tracks the complicated and inhumane processes of fleeing one’s country for a safer future.

At first, the Last Call for Istanbul feels like one of those serendipitous travel romances reminiscent of Before Sunrise. As Serin and Mehmet enjoy New York at night, it’s absolutely enchanting, especially with the unique, striking mirrored transitions that shift between the two as they get ready, but this nighttime stroll has already been walked on before, complete with droll dialogue and impulsive choices. However, the film makes a shift to its second half, and it suddenly reconfigures what we know about the two and their romance. While it does employ other familiar romance tropes, it’s still an intriguing shift that explores the concept of possibilities, and the cost in choosing one over the others.

The Wild Pear Tree is somewhat like a novel made into a movie– It’s long, it’s philosophical, and it’s mostly composed of conversations a young protagonist has in order to figure out the best way to live. At first glance, the plot can seem rather mundane. But there’s a subtle anger that drives the film, as Sinan tries to make sense of the arbitrary nature of modern society, but can’t seem to find any answers that satisfy him, due to being at a different place with everyone around him, or simply because he just doesn’t know better. Most people would likely understand one or both sides each talk presents. Depending on where you’re at in life, some or more of these conversations may resonate with you, but there’s no denying that writer-director Nuri Bilge Ceylan crafted his characters well, feeling as real and as personal as the people he grew up with in his hometown.

On paper, Crossing’s premise reads like a movie about two different people forging an unlikely but sweet bond. Lia is a no-nonsense grandma, after all, and Achi looks like he lives day-to-day, not really caring what the future brings. And it’s true, at first their stark differences provide amusing moments, but the pair quickly subvert expectations. Lia is almost unrelentingly distant (“Let’s be clear,” she warns Achi, “I’m not here to take care of you.”) while Achi proves to be surprisingly sweet. Then there’s Evrim (Deniz Dumanli), a local trans lawyer advocating for the marginalized. Through her and her friends, Lia grows to understand her missing trans niece, the reason she came to Turkey in the first place. There’s a meandering vibe to Crossing that fits into these three characters yearning for connections. But though it can get lost in those paths, the movie feels coherent and kind, like a comfort drama if there ever was one. All the while, Istanbul—both its fringes and its colorful center—serves as a ruggedly beautiful, kaleidoscopic backdrop.

On paper, They Shall Not Grow Old’s concept doesn’t seem exciting: interviews of old soldiers reminiscing about The Great War are superimposed on archival footage from the same era. Sounds straightforward enough. Except, there’s an art to Jackon’s approach to the film. For one, the interviews are brought to life by convincing voice actors. For another, the film footage is stitched together in such a way that it tells its own story. Jackson cuts to some of the same faces repeatedly, as if to suggest they’re the ones the current narrator is referring to, and at one point, nearly all of the film is colorized—by hand, mind you, no need for AI here. There are no dates, names, or even places to be found here, so it’s not your typical war documentary. But it is filled with specificities you won’t normally read about in books. The soldiers tell detailed accounts of how they relieved themselves in the trenches, what kind of beer they got to enjoy, how and they met up with girls. But the grim parts are there too, like how they witnessed heads blowing up and people dying from mere infections to bullets. This, more than anything, feels like a raw account of the war, from people you’ve met firsthand.

Originally a novel inspired by real life incarceration, Don’t Let Them Shoot the Kite is actually much more optimistic than a prison stay would seem to be. Much of that lighter mood comes from an outstanding performance– Ozan Bilen, who portrays Barış, the precocious boy that lives in the prison with his mom due to a quirk of Turkish law– but the lighter mood isn’t due to ignoring the prisoners’ reality. Instead, the lightness comes because of understanding that reality fully. Despite the suspicion of the prison guards, and the way the camera makes the prison walls loom, Barış still manages to fuel some hope through straightforward, simple truths unfiltered by the tedium and mores of everyday life, and the fear people grow to learn about. Truth truly comes out of the mouths of babes in this film, and it’s what makes Don’t Let Them Shoot the Kite a classic of Turkish cinema.

This international comedy-drama in French, Greek, and Turkish is about a free-spirited Greek girl who travels to Istanbul on a mission to help her father. Once there, she meets Avril, a French woman whose plans to help Syrian refugees have backfired. Together, they embark on a music-inspired adventure to Lebos from Turkey.

Director Tony Gatlif, a Romani, Algerian-born French filmmaker, has a unique style that often verges on exaggerations. It borders on a madcap comedy and has perfect production value, although the story might be difficult to tolerate for non-fans.

Still, if you like travel dramas, or more specifically music-travel dramas, especially in a time where the countries in the film are completely inaccessible, this will do the trick.

A War (Krigen) is a Danish war drama that focuses on Commander Claus Pedersen (Pilou Asbæk) as he leads a company of soldiers in modern day Afghanistan, while his wife at home in Denmark struggles to care for their three children. During a mission to rescue a family from Taliban threat, Claus’ unit is overcome by enemy fire, forcing him to make a dramatic decision that has a complicated effect upon himself, his fellow soldiers, and his family back home. A War is a tense yet thoroughly involving drama that offers a profound example of moral ambiguity and the repercussions of warfare. The acting and direction are utterly superb across the board—another enthralling and superbly humanistic affair from Danish filmmaker Tobias Lindholm (A Hijacking).

Beautifully directed and blessed to be led by the wonderfully gentle and curious dog Zeytin, Stray commits to its unique point of view by reimagining Istanbul as a place made up of cars, torsos, and trash on the street. Such constraints on one’s filmmaking might make it seem like director Elizabeth Lo is in the perfect position to manipulate her animal characters in order to get the “story” she wants, but it genuinely never feels that way. If anything, Zeytin is the one who pulls Lo into orbit, and there’s a sense that the director is simply recording what the dog is revealing to us about human beings’ daily rituals and how they end up creating structure, culture, and (sadly) outcasts from this culture.

Among the sea of class satires released in the last year, Triangle of Sadness is one of the better ones. Directed by Ruben Östlund (The Square, Force Majeure), the film follows an ultra-rich group of people who get stranded on an island after their luxury cruise ship sinks. The social pyramid that has long favored them suddenly turns upside down when a crew member (a glowing Dolly de Leon) effectively runs the group of sheltered castaways.

Triangle of Sadness may not be as sharp as Östlund’s previous work, and it may not add anything particularly new to the saturated discussions of social class, but it remains a darkly humorous and engaging watch, masterfully helmed by a strong script and ensemble.

This Oscar-nominated drama tells the story of the events leading up to the Srebrenica massacre, in which 8372 Bosnian Muslims were killed. It focuses on one U.N. worker who was caught between trying to protect her family, herself, and helping people in need.

The film is as horrific as it is relevant: up until the actual killing starts, people are constantly being assured that everything is under control and that there is no reason to panic. This gives an eerie feeling of resemblance to the tone many minorities in distress receive nowadays.

Still, Quo Vadis, Aida? stops at depicting any of the acts that were committed that day. Instead, it focuses on Aida’s unrelenting race against the clock to save whatever she can.

Five orphaned sisters are put under house arrest by their uncle and grandmother after they are seen horsing around with local boys from school. While their actions were purely innocent, their behavior is viewed as scandalous and shameful by the conservative elders in their small Turkish village. After this incident, their grandmother turns her attention towards marrying off her granddaughters. Each of the five sisters rebel in their own way, but it is the youngest and rowdiest sister, Lale, who is the central protagonist of the film. She watches helplessly as each of her older sisters is married off with an increasing sense of dread and desperation. While this may sound hopelessly depressing, the movie is equal parts beautiful and tragic and floats across the screen in a dreamlike manner. Not all of the sisters escape their oppressive surroundings or their assigned fate, but the message is clear: it’s crucial to try.

This is a hard movie to describe, but I’ll do my best without giving too much away. The movie takes place in three separate segments that eventually come together. Half of the story takes place in Germany, half in Turkey, with almost all of the central six characters spending time in both countries while either searching for each other or trying to redeem themselves. Daughters search for their mothers (and vice versa) and one character’s actions will eventually bring everything more-or-less full circle. The film is as much about the characters though as it is about the cultural exchange happening between the two countries. If you have even a passing interest in films from this part of the world, I recommend giving this one a try.

After neglecting previous invitations, Leyla, a lawyer and a poet, decides to take an overnight train to finally attend a school reunion. On the train, she meets Canan, a young nursing student who dreams of becoming an actress. The two of them form a unique connection that will lead them to an unusual journey. 

Something Useful is about how, when dealing with pain and disappointment, art—and especially poetry– can help by revealing the beauty behind everyday moments. It’s a wonderful film with beautiful photography and impressive performances. 

At first it really seems like 10 Days of a Bad Man has learned from the mistakes of its unoriginal, self-satisfied predecessor. This sequel has a more distinct personality in general, with a better overall look and a more unique central mystery that doesn’t only deal with edgy underground trafficking rings. But it doesn’t take long to realize that this film still has the exact same attitude towards its protagonist Sadik, who refuses to develop in any meaningful way and whom the movie still lionizes as some impossibly charming but sexily flawed example of masculinity.

And throughout this ultimately pointless and hastily resolved mystery that makes no impact at the end, this 50-year-old man can’t even confront his grief in an interesting way—choosing instead to strike up a relationship with an 18-year-old girl whose only function in the story is to try and seduce him. Because nothing says getting over the death of a loved one than grooming the young woman whom you’ve known since she was a minor.

The fact that 10 Days of a Good Man feels so similar to many other hard-boiled detective stories still means there are reliable thrills to be had here for fans of the genre. But twists and turns and a suitably gruff lead performance by Nejat Isler can’t make up for how the film seems so convinced of its own coolness. The more that they emphasize that Sadik is really a modest kind of tough guy with a big heart and an energy that just seems to draw women and dangerous people towards him, the more insincere it comes across. And as the convoluted central mystery continues to pile on details without engaging in much actual investigation, the more the whole thing feels like posturing to champion a very traditional and superficial idea of masculinity that Sadik embodies.

Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to have cartoonishly attractive people do silly things in the name of love for an entire feature film. This premise is undeniably fun at first: the pace is snappy, the locations are pretty, and there are more than a few intentional laughs buried within the film’s fast-paced dialogue. But the longer Love Tactics 2 goes on, the more idiotic its characters seem and the more it feels like they don’t actually deserve the love they supposedly earned in the previous movie. It greatly underestimates how frustrating it is to watch people fail to communicate over and over again, not out of any goodwill, but out of pure pride and jealousy. Sure, the leads provide plenty of eye candy, but after seeing how little they actually get to work with, watching them becomes an act of secondhand embarrassment.

Seemingly engineered in a lab to appeal strictly to romantic comedy enthusiasts who are familiar with every trope, Make Me Believe is charming and enjoyable in the moment, but ultimately does little with its ingredients. The things that it gets right are pretty foolproof: beautiful Turkish locales, steamy PG-rated romance, and a good dose of humor from supporting characters who can see the spark of love even before the couple does. Unfortunately this is all window dressing for a story built on flimsy foundations. The protagonist’s assignment to book an interview doesn’t actually carry that much weight, which makes the risk of pursuing and/or seemingly betraying her childhood neighbor feel inconsequential. And when these two characters inevitably meet in the middle, their connection is unconvincing, draining the excitement out of everything that follows.

When life imitates art unexpectedly, it can be thrilling, exciting, and maybe even dangerous. As dissatisfied wife Gokce finds an unpublished novel, we hoped that her eventual escapades would be similarly riveting, but sadly, Ashes isn’t thrilling. Part of it is because the first half is just dedicated to pretty images that don’t even feel particularly steamy, but mostly this stems from the fact that Ashes hasn’t formulated a coherent plotline for the manuscript Gokce was reading, so all the twists and turns in the second half feels more randomly tossed, than carefully set up as a surprise.

For a film with virtually no plot, there’s a lot of fuss going on in Oregon. The characters are constantly yelling and complaining, but the noise—like the plot, the set, and everything else about the film—is empty. The beauty of a Turkish summer is reduced to indoor sets, where much of the film takes place, and there here’s barely any movement, leaving us stuck with dialogue and half-baked backstories that don’t seem to serve any real purpose other than to fill in the film’s overlong runtime. The problems are superficial and solved almost immediately, purely by talking it seems, and there’s no attempt to connect the many disparate stories it shows. A farce like this could’ve worked if it got sillier and more ridiculous by the minute, but Oregon just goes in repetitive, unfunny circles.