Jio MAMI 2023 | Nehir Tuna on Turkish boyhood film Dormitory & young people’s conflicts around religion with patriarchal parents

Tell us about your growing up, and growing fond of cinema, years.

I’ve been really interested in films since junior high school, I’d skip school to spend afternoons in theatres, watching two films in a row. I was fascinated by this world because I was not a very social kid and had a strict childhood. We would watch films together at home when I was small. But then, my father, just like in the film, started becoming conservative. It got to a point when he changed his lifestyle and we were strictly forbidden from watching TV. It was frowned upon. Sneaking into cinema halls was the best getaway for me. I was excited with the idea of living in films, falling in love with the characters and it also gave me a thrill because I was doing something I shouldn’t. I wanted to be an actor at first, but later realised that I wanted to share my stories and experiences. I stole my uncle’s camera and started making short films with it. I must have been 19 or 20 then.

Did you watch Bollywood films?

Of course. It wasn’t an obsession but it was interesting, we are completely aware of the texture coming from that part of the world and what it means and feels. We are always fascinated by some of the Bollywood films in Turkey, the movies have an extreme visual effects and narrative. It’s fun.

Doğa Karakaş, who plays Ahmet in Yurt (Dormitory), at Venice International Film Festival. (Photo Stephanie Cornfield)

Yurt (Dormitory) is born out of your short film Ayakkabi (Shoes, 2018). Along with the actor who plays Hakan, how much of that short film did you retain?

The short film was from the perspective of Hakan (Can Bartu Aslan) and that plot became a short part of Yurt, where Ahmet’s shoe is missing and the hodja (teacher) tries to find it by giving the boys a chickpea to swallow, this breaks down Ahmet and Hakan takes responsibility (much later), he’s also angry at himself and a system that forces him to do it.

For Ahmet, after extensive auditioning, we found Doğa (Karakaş), who was very comfortable with the camera, good in listening and responding, and had this spontaneity I was impressed by. The chemistry between the two boys was visible from the beginning.

Ozan Çelik, the dormitory teacher Yakup hodja, at Venice Film Festival. (Photo Stephanie Cornfield)

Talk about the despotic teacher, Yakup hodja.

Working with Ozan (Çelik) is a very good experience, with him you just spread some seeds and water them and just wait, something will definitely come up, you’ll see those grasses sprout. A gaze or a posture, those little things. We trust each other’s process.

To what extent is Yurt (Dormitory) autobiographical?

It’s semi-autobiographical. I was using pretty much the environment that I was experiencing, the similarities with the characters. So, I was nurturing my scripts with my own experience. It’s based on real events but it’s not exactly the same thing. But, yes, the feeling and the desire for freedom are real, raw and completely coming from my experience.

Tansu Biçer, who plays Ahmet's father in the film, at Venice International Film Festival. (Photo Stephanie Cornfield)

Alongside the orthodox dormitory, Ahmet also goes to a secular school. It is never an either-or choice but the co-existence of contradictions.

Everybody, regardless of where you stay, you also go to a secular education. The only difference in Ahmet’s situation is that he goes to a private school because his father (Tansu Biçer) can afford while all the other kids who are staying in the dormitory have to go to public school because it doesn’t require any money. But they are all secular, there is no difference in that.

Ahmet downplays his Muslim identity in the secular school.

To not to be labelled, because there’s this tension between secularists and Islamist and he’s right in the middle, he finds a practical way to protect himself by not drawing any attention to himself.

Do these dormitories still exist in Turkey?

Yes, more than ever. But now, it’s easier for those living there, because the political atmosphere is different compared to that era, there is no pressure from the secular forces (who, in the film, conduct raids to seize Arabic literature) for them to feel uncomfortable. So, that’s why they have, over the years, flourished. Turkey has gone through a big change in terms of freedom of belief. Late ’90s was the peak of that era when everyone was worried about where the country was going, it’s either the secular side or the religious side.

A still from the film.

Around the world, religious extremism and radicalisation of young minds is on the rise.

Young minds are always yearning to learn and looking for a role model. And if they come across a wrong role model, it’s just…they are looking for love and learning and copy the people around them, open to soaking it all in. A child’s education is always a very delicate matter. With this film, I hope to reach parents, from all faiths, to show them the idea of the consequences of their actions, of the decision in their children’s education. And also to reach out to young people who have this kind of conflicts around religion with their patriarchal parents or grandparents, doing things for the sake of just loving and pleasing them instead of what they actually think.

Yurt is a very personal film. It follows this teenaged boy, shows his reactions to what’s happening to him. Things are happening in the background. Of course, it’s a political film, but I’m trying to be objective to both sides, to show how the mechanism of dogmatic belief systems affect this young boy, and how he’s navigating between these two places to fulfil his familial expectations and also trying to be himself, to learn his own agency. Ahmet is stuck between secularism and Islam, between pleasing his father and becoming his own person, between a boy and a girl. It’s a very important period in his life, where he’s experiencing, learning, understanding and growing, so, it’s important to have set this film in that era where this pressure and its impact is extremely high.

Although he goes back to the dormitory, he’s internally changed. He’s not the same person. He becomes internally free when he returns there. He turns into Hakan, who was also a free soul, there without having been affected by indoctrination. Ahmet goes to the dormitory because his home is not his home anymore and there’s no nowhere else to go. And, at the very end is the sound of squirrel (not Hakan’s symbol of rat representing ego), so, Ahmet has chosen this worldly life but is not trying to control it.

Doğa Karakaş' Ahmet and Can Bartu Aslan's Hakan in a still from Yurt (Dormitory).

You make a brave move of switching from the classical black-and-white look, for three-fourth of the film, to colour. It could have ruined the whole experience. The camera movement also shifts from static tripoded to handheld shots, as does the music from Western classical to contemporary.

It came very instinctively, it was a visceral urge to go to colour to support the idea of freedom, with more free camera movements. It’s shot on Sony Venice digital camera, in the (uncommon, squarish) 3:2 aspect ratio, which leaves a lot of space for bodies to express themselves, without moving the camera, and reinforces this feeling of intimacy with the character. I personally like wide angles. For the most part, we’re very strict with our camera angles where we put it, we’re very particular about it until that certain moment when one day the boys run away, it becomes freer, and we push the idea, enhance the energy with the sound, music, the use of camera, and dramatic change to colour. We are not only polishing that feeling, we are also separating it from the rest of the movie, which is repression. We did it to put this film into a more contemporary, modern time, to pursue a sense of continuity in the present and future. It was important for me to not lock the story in the past that no longer exists, because Ahmet is still present now, like these dormitories are still present.

A still from the film.

The idea behind using Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (black and white segment), which changes to contemporary music as colour enters. Vivaldi is an alien music to the land.

Classical music, to me, is the highest form of music, of perfection, and the character of Sevinç (Isilti Su Alyanak), this girl at school, looks perfect, like Manuela in the soap opera Ahmet watches and fantasises about, it’s almost like a dream coming true for him. This perfect girl is the embodiment of that perfect idea and, hence, the sophisticated music, it cannot be pop culture music that his fellow friends are listening to. Vivaldi is the cornerstone of Western classical culture, I wanted it to play a more dominant role in his moment of awakening to his adolescence. This piece includes hope, excitement and fear, it encapsulates a lot of feelings in a journey. Ahmet finds a way to connect with this girl through the music as well as it opens a vision for him, he sees a plain naked boy statue, so it’s a mixture of these feelings and where the music takes him to.

A still from Turkish film Yurt (Dormitory).

There’s a stunning shot where Hakan and Ahmet are in their dorm, lying on two beds, with their finger touching. It reminded me of Michelangelo’s painting The Creation of God.

I was trying to find a way that these boys physically connected, we know that emotionally they are on the same level, they are really good friends. And I didn’t want any hug. If you notice, when Ahmet is leaving the dormitory, they don’t hug, because I wanted to reserve that hug for when he comes back. When the relationship goes one step further. He sees his father hug the hodja, who hugs him like his son and keeps saying, ‘Oh, my son, oh, my son’ while Ahmet, despite being his real son, gets no hug from his father. So, what better person can you get a hug from but from a role model, a father figure, a best friend, Hakan, who’s in the dormitory waiting for him. I wanted to differentiate these moments with one little touch versus a huge hug, to use it as a change in their relationship.

There are queer overtones in Ahmet and Hakan’s relationship.

Ahmet is searching for love. It’s either familial love (from his father), or classical, romantic love from this girl in his class, and friendship from Hakan. And gradually, Ahmet realises that he can find all these combinations, all these forms of love together in one person.

Which filmmakers have inspired you?

I was very influenced by French New Wave, (Jean-Luc) Godard and (François) Truffaut, and very classical films by David Lean or American independent films like Stand By Me (1986), or Billy Elliot (2000) by Stephen Daldry or Naked Childhood (1968). A lot of these coming-of-age genre films really were my inspirations, in them, it’s about the past, nostalgia, childhood, where things seem more innocent and the many explorations, opportunities.

A still from the film.

The young protagonist becomes very important for you as filmmaker. The coming of age stories is what you’ll pursue in the future, too?

Yes. They are more proactive because they have this almost unlimited ambition and energy and hope for feature and there is so much possibilities, for me, it might not be the case for everyone, but that’s where I feel excitement and power, a readiness to exploit and explode, so, in my second film, that’s what I want to do, similar continuation of these characters, maybe a little older, but similar kind of vibe. I want to work on stories of characters who had these childhood traumas and how that affected their lives later on in life.

How convivial is the environment for independent filmmakers in Turkey?

There needs to be more alternative support system for independent filmmaking in Turkey, support for films that have more courage. There are only just a few financial supports, which are government backed, and the filmmakers feel obliged to rethink what they want to talk about. And because Turkey is in the middle, not belonging to Europe, not belonging to the Arab world, we are sometimes excluded from certain funding. I don’t think we are there yet but I’m optimistic that we will get there.

Didem Ellialtı, who plays Ahmet’s mother, at Venice International Film Festival. (Photo Stephanie Cornfield)

Turkey’s oldest film festival, Antalya Golden Orange Film Festival, was recently called off because a critical documentary was dropped from the selection at the last minute, this has happened in the past, too. The other filmmakers withdrew their films in solidarity. Filmmakers have written open letters to the government in the past, Turkish filmmakers have taken their protest to the Berlin Film Festival. It is interesting because this kind of unity among the film fraternity doesn’t exist in India. How do Turkish filmmakers navigate censorship?

It was an important move to stand together against censorship, it was unfortunate that all of us had to change our strategies to meet with audiences. We said, if there is censorship, we don’t want to be a part of the festival, unless they take this documentary back.

With this film, because we didn’t have any government support, we didn’t self-censor, so it was easier for us to navigate freely. But yeah, a lot of people feel the pressure and gradually that is affecting the kind of films being made. But it also makes the filmmakers smarter to deal with this. They find more elegant ways to deal with it.

We are seeing the rise of propaganda films around the world. Is it happening in Turkey, too?

Absolutely. Films are very powerful tool to influence people, they influence mass audience. I’m not against them. We should all be making films. If it finds its audience, sure. But there needs to be equal standards, everyone should be allowed to have the chance to make and share their own films, but that’s not the case. The funding system should be more transparent and more equally distributed. We should encourage a nurturing environment, that’s not what we have yet.