The Case for Global Film

Discussing everything that isn't Hollywood (and a little that is).

Archive for the ‘Turkish Cinema’ Category

Once upon a time in Cannes

Posted by keith1942 on 31 March 2012

The above film, directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan may have presented difficulties for some viewers with its allusive and at times ambiguous narrative. My difficulty was rather different: this film won the Grand Prix at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival whilst Terence Malik’s The Tree of Life won the Palme D’Or (higher up the pecking order of the Festival Awards). This was a decision that I found difficult to understand. So I looked up the membership of the 2011 Jury on the Internet. It consisted of Robert De Niro (President), Olivier Assayas, Martina Gusman, Mahamat Saleh Haroun, Jude Law, Nansun Shi, Uma Thurman, Johnnie To, Linn Ullmann. I suppose I could imagine the President, Jude Law, Una Thurman and Johnnie To preferring the US epic. I was uncertain about Nansun Shi, Linn Ullmann and Oliver Assayas, but the last is attending the forthcoming Bradford Film Festival so I may get an opportunity to ask him. But, based on my viewing of their own film works, I did think that Martina Gusman and Mahamat Saleh Haroun would have recognised the outstanding quality of the Turkish film.

Certainly when I saw it at my local independent cinema the staff remarked that many people had expressed admiration after seeing the film. After a pre-credit scene which turns out to be important in plot terms we see cars travelling along a country road by night. Such scenes appear in Ceylan’s earlier films, as do thunderstorms; here one threatens ominously through a large part of this film. The car sequence, which recurs several times in the film, is visually stunning. Ceylan and his cinematographer Gökhan Tiryaki are able to produce mesmerising images with their digital photography. And the sound, edited by Thomas Robert, is an equally impressive design.

Ceylan has also expressed his liking for the Russian writer Anton Chekhov in interviews. Ceylan is also able to present characters and their inner thoughts as they struggle with the deeper meanings of the everyday: lives circumscribed by their character, circumstances and sometime the intractability of the world they inhabit. Whilst the film offers a very different story, set in a vastly different land and society, the parallels strike one: in my case with Chekhov’s masterpiece The Seagull. Gilbert Phelps’ comments on that writer, (The World Novel, 1988) seem quite apt: the “story ends in a struggle of dots, leaving it open-ended, with reverberations echoing beyond the limit” (of the cinema screen).

In keeping with the influence of Chekhov, the key character in the central group of men in Once upon a Time in Anatolia (Bir zamanlar Anadolu’da) turns out to be the doctor. But in many ways, equally significant are the women. One is the daughter of the mayor of a village where a meal is taken. We never hear her speak, and only see her by candlelight. Another is the wife of a murdered man, again seen watching and passively waiting. The third we never see, she is only a character in tale recounted by one man to another. The fourth only appears in a couple of photographs. Yet I was keenly aware of how they affected the men, and how their enforced silence was itself a factor in the playing out of the story. Ceylan’s wife Ebru worked with him on the script for the film. I was left wondering if (as with many critics’ favourite auteurs) there is another untold angle on the world with which we are presented.

There are telling small incidents – like an apple rolling into a stream – a policeman lighting up two cigarettes and offering one to his prisoner – a drop of blood splashing on the face of the doctor – which offer enormous resonance. The style re-inforces this – at one point we see the a close-up of the prisoner Kenan, later in the film identical framing and lighting is used on a close-up of the Prosecutor Nusret.

This is a marvellous film: see it at the cinema, it will never be the same on DVD or even Blu-Ray. I expect it to be in my top five favourite films for 2012. If it is not, it will have been a wonderful year for World Cinema.

Posted in Directors, Festivals and Conferences, People, Turkish Cinema | Tagged: , | 9 Comments »

Uzak (Distant Turkey 2002)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 14 March 2012

Yusuf (Emin Toprak) in the snowy streets of Istanbul

The new film from Nuri Bilge Ceylan is due to open in the UK this Friday and last night we watched his 2002 film which I think was his breakthrough with arthouse audiences over here. I remember watching it without knowing anything about the director and being very impressed back in 2004 when it finally reached London after winning prizes at Cannes in 2003.

My strongest memories of the film were the compositions of one of the two principal characters, Yusuf (Emin Toprak) isolated in the snowy urban landscapes of Istanbul. This was the third film by Ceylan (co-writer and director) to feature Toprak with Muzaffer Özdemir. Soon after completing the film Toprak was killed in a car crash, a tragedy that would also ultimately change the director’s approach to casting. In Uzak, Özdemir plays Mahmut, a village boy who has built up a successful career in Istanbul as a photographer. Yusuf is his country cousin who is forced out of his village by redundancy and comes to Istanbul seeking work on a ship. Mahmut is a rather reluctant host, a divorced man stuck in his ways who thinks of his cousin as something of a country bumpkin. The film’s title refers to the ‘distance’ in culture between the village and the big city – and the potential distance between the two cousins.

The film is strong on metaphors and symbols. Istanbul looks wonderful cloaked in thick snow and Ceylan knows just how to make use of the possibilities it offers as Yusuf wanders forlornly around the waterfront looking for work. At the end of one hopeless trip he stares down at a bowl of small fishes one of which has fallen from the bowl and is thrashing about in a puddle – we know how he feels. Back in Mahmut’s flat the two men do battle with a mouse in the kitchen with sometimes hilarious outcomes but the inference is clear. The country mouse has come to town and the town mouse doesn’t know quite how to react.

In his use of two non-professionals as leads, Ceylan is using men he knows (he often used other members of his family in his early films) and he has admitted that the early films are autobiographical to some extent (for instance, Muzaffer appears as both a filmmaker in Clouds of May (1999) and a photographer here, mirroring Ceylan’s activities. I’m not sure whether Mahmut’s rather wonderful flat is actually Ceylan’s but we do see a poster for Ceylan’s first film, a short titled Koza on Mahmut’s wall. If Mahmut is in any way ‘representative’ of the director, it is a brave self-examination because Mahmut is certainly a man with flaws. He has become the isolated and alienated intellectual who has even lost interest in the art form that drove him in his career. The film sets up a nice contrast between Yusuf’s traditional community-orientated values and Mahmut’s disdain for family and friends. But it also hints at the possibility that Yusuf could end up like Mahmut if he spends too much time in the city. In this sense the scenes in which both men (separately) stare out across the Bosphorus from the waterfront remind us of the key geographical and cultural location of Turkey, looking out to Europe and beyond and back into the hinterland of Western Asia.

The film is slow-paced but never dull. I never felt it dragged and that is down to Ceylan’s fine visual sense (he photographed the film himself), enough humour to spice up the observation of the characters and two fine central performances that won the pair a joint acting prize at Cannes.

 

 

Posted in Turkish Cinema | Tagged: | 4 Comments »

Hudutlarin Kannu (The Law of the Border, Turkey 1966)

Posted by keith1942 on 23 August 2011


This is a Turkish film restored by the World Cinema Foundation and screened at Il Cinema Ritrovato this year. It was recommended for restoration by Fatih Akin (the young Turkish-German filmmaker), who introduced the screening along with one of the surviving cast members. The film is considered important because it featured a key director of the 1960s, Orner Lüfti Akad, and as writer and star, the now well known filmmaker Yilmaz Güney.

Akin writes on the film: “Turkish cinema in the Sixties took place in a dream world. The movies of that era refused to look directly at Turkish society.  . . . This was the beginning of what would later be called ‘New Cinema’ in Turkey, with its powerful cinematography and its direct and realistic depiction of social problems”.

The film is set in the Southeast border region of Turkey. The area is policed and controlled by the army. However, the poverty and lack of resources drive people to the ‘law of the border’, smuggling. The attempts to prevent such activities are draconian, including minefields along the border.

The key characters in the film are Hidir, (played by Güney) an expert in defeating the methods restricting border crossings. Standing against him is the new army lieutenant (his predecessor was shot), Zeki. However, the real conflict and violence is between Hidir and a rival smuggler Ali Cello. Their competition is aggravated by the actions of a local rich landowner, Dervis Aga. The conflict is also complicated by Hidir’s young son, Yusuf, and by a local teacher, Miss Ayse. Zeki is an enlightened officer, and he co-operates with Ayse to open a school in Hidir’s village, Deliviran. Because of his fears for his son’s future Hidir is torn between his success as a smuggler and the alternatives. One of these is a sharecropping scheme, facilitated by Zeki. However, it depends on the landowner Dervis Aga, who is more interested in profits than in social action. His plotting with Ali Cello sets up a violent and finally tragic ending.

Güney’s Hidir is a powerful centre to the film. He was to become the most popular star in Turkish cinema. Zeki is a liberal officer who also represents progress. This applies equally to Miss Ayse, who is a modern woman wearing western clothing and even smoking on one occasion. This sets both Zeki and Ayse off from the milieu of Hidir, traditional and religious.

In introducing the film Akin had to explain the poor quality of the surviving materials used in the restoration. Apparently only one print survived a coup d’état in 1980: all other sources being seized and destroyed. The Foundation notes explain how they used these sparse sources to create a print, which is still marked by this wear and tear. It notes “some frames were missing”, but apparently this new version is more or less complete. Akin also remarked that the final film was a ‘compromise’ between filmmakers and the army. The character of Zeki was presumably important in this respect. At the same time the sympathetic portrayal of what the establishment would regard as criminal and subversive presumably explains why the film was savaged later.
It took me a little time to identify the key characters and their different situations. However, once I had done this the narrative is relatively straightforward: the style less so. The film is clearly influenced by neo-realism: possibly also by spaghetti westerns, and it plays in many ways like a western, with a strong revenge motif. But is also uses unconventional techniques of other new waves, in particular the jump cut. One sequence of a shoot-out reminded me irresistibly of the work of Glauber Rocha.

There is extensive use of jump cuts, especially as the drama increases. The editing generally is often unconventional. I did wonder if there were missing sequences but it appears to be more or less complete. My wonder sprang from a series of shots inserted between scenes, which merely show characters and setting, then continue elsewhere. I assume these are intended as emblematic shots and form part of the visual commentary of the film.

By the film’s end, having got to grips with the characters and their conflicts, I found that it developed a really powerful feeling. And whilst downbeat, it is not entirely despairing, there is the possibility of a future. That is ironic as the border areas continue to be a severe problem for Turkish society and the Turkish State. A film reviewed at the Leeds Festival, Kosmos (2010), was set in the Bulgarian/Turkish border area, and once again there were border problems and the ever present military.

The film is worth seeing both for its quality and power, and also because so little of Turkish cinema is available in the west. It seems that in this period Turkish cinema was producing up to 300 films a year. Yet nearly all are little known, and there is little available English writing on Turkish film. Some of the later films that Güney directed are available, like Yol (1982). But largely it is another ‘unknown’ cinema.

Unfortunately the World Cinema Foundation films tend to turn up at festivals rather than getting a wider distribution. And they do not appear to have a policy, or perhaps the resources, for DVD releases. But it is worth keeping an eye open for an opportunity to see this film.

Hudutlarin Kannu / The Law of the Border
Turkey 1966. Director: Lüfti Akad.
Scenario, dialogue: Orner Lufti Akad, Yilmaz Güney. From the novel by Yilmaz Güney.
Ph: Ali Uğur. Music: Nida Tüfekçi.
Yildiz film studios. 35mm, black and white, 74 minutes.
Cast: Hidir – Yilmaz Güney. Ayse, teacher – Pervin Par. Yusuf, Hidir’s son – Hikmet Olgun. Ali Cello – Erol Tas. Bekir – Tuncel Kurtiz. Dervis Aga – Osman Alyanak. Abuzer – Aydemir Akbas. Zeki, First Lieutenant – Atilla Ergün.
Restored by the World Cinema Foundation at L’Immagine Ritrovata Laboratory.
Turkish version with French subtitles: English translation provided for screening.

Posted in Turkish Cinema | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment »

BIFF 2011 #13: Honey (Bal, Turkey/Germany 2010)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 29 March 2011

Yakup and Yusuf in the forest

Honey is something of a companion piece to Le quattro volte as another example of ‘slow cinema’ (and as a prizewinner, the 2010 Golden Bear at Berlin). It’s the final film of a trilogy but since I haven’t seen the other two I’ll discuss it as a one-off. The title refers to the occupation of the protagonist’s father. 7-year-old Yusuf lives in the mountains of Rize Province near the Black Sea Coast in the far North-East of Turkey. His father Yakup places hives in the tallest trees and the sale of the honey is the family’s chief income.

Yusuf is devoted to his father and every day he rushes home from school to see if Yakup has made any progress in carving a small wooden sailing ship. At school Yusuf desperately wants to get the medal that his teacher bestows on any student who successfully reads out loud, but Yusuf is too self-conscious to manage this and can only stutter – much to the amusement of his classmates. At home, he reads the almanac for his father each morning, safe and confident in his home surroundings. Father and son have a close bond and Yusuf whispers to his father about their secrets as they walk through the forest to check the hives.

A classic image of exclusion – Yusuf watches his classmates play through the classroom window

The film shares the narrative structure of the Japanese film Seesaw featured earlier in the festival. It opens with an incident that leaves us literally hanging and to which it returns later in the film. The local bee hives are failing and Yakup is forced to look for suitable sites in a forest some distance away. When he doesn’t return after a few days Yusuf’s mother Zehra begins to worry. She takes Yusuf to stay with his grandmother and also to a big local festival where she seeks news of Yakup. These are the only scenes outside the home, school and local forest tracks.

The cinematography is beautifully composed, scenes are well lit, the performances are extraordinary, especially that of Bora Altas as Yusuf. Writer-director Semih Kaplanoglu writes about how he managed to get Bora to act the part of Yusuf – a boy with a very different personality (see the Press Pack from Olive Films). Kaplanoglu describes his approach to filmmaking as ‘spiritual realism’. This is something he has discovered through making the ‘Yusuf trilogy’. He seems to invest a great deal in every decision he makes about locations, actors and technology/techniques. I’ve discovered that the trilogy has actually been made in reverse chronological order so that Honey finally reveals some of the events that helped to make the adult Yusuf in Milk (2008) and Egg (2007). Neither of these films seems to have reached the UK, but I’m intrigued to see them now. Kaplanoglu is not interested in period drama as such so all three films (which cover 30 years or so and have different actors playing Yusuf) are set in the present. Even so, Kaplanoglu tells us that the forest setting in Honey is magical and traditional in an area of outstanding beauty that is disappearing under the pressure of development.

Honey is scheduled for a June/July release from Verve in the UK. I hope it does well – I could certainly watch it again. Here’s the German trailer which gives a good indication of the fantastic use of natural sounds in the film:

Posted in Festivals and Conferences, Films for children, Turkish Cinema | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

Kosmos (Turkey/Bulgaria 2010)

Posted by keith1942 on 10 December 2010

In 2.35:1 colour, with English subtitles.

Screened at the Leeds International Film Festival, 2010.

This is another fine Turkish film. After years of being practically invisible, the last decade has seen Turkish cinema producing a series of beautifully crafted and fascinating features. Notable among these have been the films of Nuri Bilge Ceylan. The terrain in this film reminded me of the winter sequence in Ceylan’s Climates (2007), though that was set in Eastern Turkey and this film is set in the North West border territories.

It is from that border wilderness that the central protagonist of the film emerges. This is a great opening shot as a small figure gradually emerges from the wintry wasteland. He is called Kosmos He arrives at a border town. Whilst washing in the river he spies and saves a drowning boy. The boys sister Neptün believes Kosmos has bought the boy back from death. As this news spreads in the close-knit town community Kosmos is made welcome.

Attempts are made to provide him with accommodation and work. But Kosmos is a wayward spirit. He is taciturn, and his occasional utterances sound like quotations from sacred volumes, most likely the Koran. Moreover, as he tells the townsmen, he is looking for love. He finds this with Neptün, a kindred spirit. They often communicate by shrill, laughing cries.

Kosmos’ search for love crosses the cultural taboos about sexuality. And his attempts at other good deeds, including procuring medicine for a desperate and lame young woman, capture the attention of the army: the actual law enforcing agency in the town. By the film’s end Kosmos is sought by both hopeful townspeople seeking miracles, and by an army officer and his squad. The film ends as he disappears back into the wintry wilderness. However, Neptun’s own screeching at the captain suggest the possibility that she now also possesses Kosmos’ unusual powers.

The film treads an uneasy but successful line between drama and farce. The recurring cries of greeting between Kosmos and Neptün are bizarre by conventional film standards. But the film manages to evoke both a magical world and the staid everyday world into which it collides. This is partly done by effective characterisation and a remarkable mise en scène. The film makes fine use of the widescreen imagery, and snow, mist and shadows contribute powerfully to this. An atmospheric soundtrack accompanies the visuals. One set of the recurring sounds on this are distant or not-so-distant explosion, as the army conduct manouvres near the border.

There are also suitably bizarre episodes to match the wayward world of Kosmos. So a Russian space capsule crashes nearby one night and provides a notable distraction in town life.

The film also manages to retain some ambiguity about Kosmos’ powers. His ‘miracles’ are not uniformly beneficial. There is a young boy who has been dumb for a year after a traumatic experience. Kosmos restores his powers of speech, but the boy is then struck down by a fatal illness. This adds to the antagonisms that develop towards Kosmos.

The background to the story and main characters are sketched in with detail and frequent eccentricity. One recurring scene shows a band of four feuding brothers, driving round with their fathers coprse and coffin whilst they struggle over his inheritance. Some of the recurring motifs are clearly symbolic, and a little over emphasised. Thus there are frequent shots of cows being led to an abattoir: and also a flock of geese waddling down a street. But most of the motifs add to the atmosphere of the film and story: the recurring thefts from the shops: the café where only men drink their tea and talk: the scenes by the river, a fast-flowing icy torrent; a mist-laden square dominated by a statue, presumably Ataturk: all help to build up the enclosed world of the town.

Definitely a film to be seen and enjoyed: though it may take a little time to adjust to the film’s oddball flavour.

Posted in Turkish Cinema | Leave a Comment »

Global soap

Posted by Roy Stafford on 14 August 2010

Photos of the stars of the Turkish soap opera "Noor" are sold in Ramallah on the West Bank. (Muhammed Muheisen/ Associated Press, taken from the website of the Boston Globe in 2008)

The global soap opera is a phenomenon that should get much more attention in both film and media studies. TV soaps are primarily the television offspring of traditional cinematic family melodramas, albeit in ‘serial narrative’ form rather than single narratives. Their production flourishes in those countries with a heritage of film production in this genre.

The US and UK, other English-speaking countries (e.g. Australia) and much of Europe have produced soaps for home consumption and exports within their own language markets. The same is true in India (and probably East Asia – can anyone confirm this?). But the interesting development is what global media theorists refer to as the ‘contra-flow’ of exported soap operas outside the American-dominated English-language market. The Latin-American telenovela in Spanish or Portuguese conquered much of Africa and parts of Eastern Europe decades ago, but it has competition from another source – the Arabic-language soaps primarily from Egypt, but according to a recent news report also in dubbed form from Turkey.

Noor is a Turkish soap which when it finished its run was attracting up to 80 million viewers from “Morocco to Palestine” according to the Guardian and which is now promoting tourism from Arab countries to Istanbul. This looks like an effective move into ‘soft power’ as Turkey seeks leadership across the countries of North Africa and Western Asia. It goes well with the recent resurgence of Turkish Cinema. Researching this story, I’m all too well aware of my ignorance of a programme that has become a cultural phenomenon in the Arab world through showings first on the MBC channel.

Here’s a BBC business report on the success of Turkish soaps:

Posted in Arab Cinema, Global television, Melodrama, Turkish Cinema | 2 Comments »

Kolkata IFF screening 4: My Marlon and Brando (Turkey 2008)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 27 November 2009

Ayça Damgacı as the central character in My Marlon and Brando

With sensitive handling by a distributor I think that this film could do well in major markets. I’m sure that it will be appreciated in Turkey and Germany but its story is also universal. It has already won several festival prizes and been well reviewed by Variety and Screen International.

The film’s story is based on the real love affair between a Turkish actor and the Iraqi Kurd she meets on a film set. The opening sequence made me think that it might be a reality TV take-off, but the final sections reminded me strongly of Michael Winterbottom’s Berlin prizewinner, In This World from 2002. The film was co-written and directed by the documentarist Hüseyin Karabey.

The two actors, Ayça and Hama Ali effectively play themselves in a narrative that is presumably only slightly fictionalised. They fall in love but are separated and Hama Ali finds himself in Iraq when the British and Americans invade. He sends Ayça video love letters in which he acts out one of his roles as a comic Iraqi Superman. But Ayça is very much in love and she despairs at the separation and despite her severe lack of funds she determines to travel to Iraq to be with him. The second half of the film then becomes a form of road movie as she experiences great difficulty in making a border crossing from Turkey, eventually travelling to Iran to attempt a crossing over a different border.

I enjoyed the film and especially the performances. Ayça is not a conventionally pretty ‘leading lady’ but she is a character who invites identification. Hama Ali is similarly engaging. Although there are several comic sequences, the latter stages of the narrative are harrowing. The realism of the journey helps in the representation of rural Turkey and the problems a woman travelling alone encounters in conservative communities where she is expected to be veiled.

Turkish Cinema is on something of a roll at the moment and I hope that this film gets picked up for wider distribution. For a European audience it offers real food for thought about the boundaries between sophisticated European communities (which may well include Istanbul) and those in rural ‘Asia Minor’ as we used to call it. As the director points out it reverses the usual narrative of movements from East to West and in doing so shows that the borders between Turkey, Iran and Iraq are irrelevant (and of course the Kurdish people do not have borders for their ‘virtual state’).

A trailer and a detailed Press Pack are available on this sales company website. I do hope the film finds a distributor prepared to promote it properly.

Posted in Romance, Turkish Cinema | Leave a Comment »

Bes vakit (Times and Winds, Turkey 2006)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 12 September 2008

The Imam's family

The Imam's family in Bes vakit

Bes vakit is the kind of film that brings out the best in some reviewers and rather than go through the same points, I’m tempted to point you towards Jonathan Romney in the Independent on Sunday. I’d go along with all of Romney’s points, but perhaps I can add some other ones as well.

At the beginning of the film, I had no expectations about how it would look, but I assumed that it would be similar to the work of Abbas Kiarostami or the Makhmalbafs (given that geographically and culturally they are perhaps the closest other major filmmakers). The first surprise then was to find that the film is a CinemaScope presentation. ‘Scope at 2.35:1 makes a big difference to the representation of landscape – and, importantly here, to the placing of figures in that landscape. The views of mountains, valleys and the distant sea necessarily become ‘panoramic’, stressing width not height, and characters are shown in medium shot or MCU they appear much more constrained than in 1.85:1 or 1.66:1 (the more familiar ratios for the neo-realists). Of course, it helps if the projectionist can get the anamorphic lens working properly – surprisingly, the print at London’s Renoir Cinema seemed out of focus at either side of the frame. Despite this, I enjoyed the views of the area.

There are familiar elements from the Iranian films (though I discovered that the location was on the most north-westerly coast of Turkey overlooking the Hellespont – i.e. closer to Europe than Iran), but I was reminded of a range of other films. The ‘distanced’ feel of some of the village scenes reminded me of Carlos Reygadas and Silent Light (2007), the Mexican film about a Mennonite community and the children in school reminded me of several European films and especially of some Spanish films set in isolated villages. The Spirit of the Beehive (1973) sprang to mind. Bes vakit does not have the strong narrative sense of either of the other films mentioned here, but it does share a sense of ‘other worldliness’. Romney points to the recurring compositions of the children lying seemingly asleep in a variety of locations. I found these quite disturbing and one occasion I thought the character was dead (a boy is lying amongst what looks like the ruins of a house). The use of music (by an Estonian composer) adds to this feeling. It seems very portentous and undercuts any sense of rural calm.

The trailer gives a sense of how the film looks and sounds, though I think it overemphasises the scenes of violence by adults directed at children and suggests that the narrative threads are much clearer than they really are:

Overall, this seems to me an enjoyable and rather beautiful avant-garde film, more like an art installation than a straight narrative movie. I’ve still not quite worked out the meaning of a film which is divided into five sections relating to the prayer times in the village (which are then offered in reverse order, so that the film ends in the morning). There are narratives – mainly associated with themes of growing up, sexual awakening, identity within a family structure etc., but also the simple narratives of daily life, here bound up in ideas of collective responsibility. But the film doesn’t offer any coherent sociological explanation of how the village functions. There appears to be a jointly owned flock of sheep, but it wasn’t clear how the families made their livings beyond animal husbandry. The village isn’t really that remote (and the boys are sometimes dressed quite formally – more as they might be in cities?). But this is good for the sense of mystery that underpins the daily routine. I think it might be quite useful in raising discussions about film narrative.

Posted in Turkish Cinema | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 501 other followers

%d bloggers like this: