QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

Istanbul stands as a central character in this feature. Indeed, it is to Akin what Paris represents to Vinz in La Haine (Mathieu Kassovitz, 1995): an integral part of his identity. It pleases, horrifies and indulges him in equal measure. Akin, a man who has spent much of his life in hospitals and mental health institutions, cannot imagine a life outside of the Turkish capital. He frequents religious monuments as a means of journey to the outside world, but despite every valiant effort, he is unable to stop himself from falling into a realm of near-insanity.

Director Gürcan Keltek’s background is in documentary film. With New Dawn Fades, he demonstrates that he make fiction with inventive aplomb. Akin embroiders a fantasy world that sits at odds with the real one. Searching for refuge from his God, he is comforted by the array of buildings that surround him; complete with a fascination that is comparable to a hunter searching for prey. The viewer is asked to interpret what it is they think they see. Keltek offers no easy answers, positing questions that the audience is expected to answer in their own time.

Sepulchral in texture – much of the work is filmed in shadows and by dark stairwells – New Dawn Fades flirts with the conventions of horror, not least in its sound design, which utilises a variety of synths. These devices push the emotional undercurrents further. There are times when the music drowns out the conversation, but it’s done artfully; amplifying the central character’s disconnection with his everyday existence. The more he drifts out, the harder it is for the viewer to recognise the normal from the abnormal. It’s a trick Martin Scorsese used on Killers of The Flower Moon (2023).

Everything onscreen is questionable, whether it’s the Akin’s microgestures or the interactions he has with the world around him. The point remains the same: how much is actually occurring versus the extent of which it is being played in his head? It questions the edifice of cinema, positing the theory that movies form a link between an audience member’s fantasy and the writer’s own. Akin is fractured, feverish and potentially psychotic, but he’s also a young, fragile man aching for a connection with someone who can guide him onto the next part of his existence. It’s easy to empathise with him, particularly since young men in their early 20s battle with their mental health issues; often unable to articulate their feelings in a normal manner.

Istanbul looms over the central figure, towering over the young man as he walks around. What his destination isn’t important, as long as he doesn’t return to the hospital he has spent much of his life avoiding. Despite the myriad people walking the streets, the city looks incredibly lonely. Every single person walks a solitary direction that precludes others from conversing with them. Perhaps Akin would be better suited to the countryside, where the air is purer, but caught in this urban jungle, he descends into his own inferno. Ghostly voices can be heard echoing all around the main character, who struggles to understand where they come from. He does everything in his power not to join these spectral figures, but the struggle is herculean. New Dawn Fades is a tremendous look at metropolitan survival.

Director Gürcan Keltek’s background is in documentary film. With New Dawn Fades, he demonstrates that he make fiction with inventive aplomb.

New Dawn Fades is in the Official Competition of the 77th Locarno Film Festival.