QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN
Izzet (Fatih Al) is a 20-something-year-old living with his parents Reyhan (Esra Kızıldoğan) and Abdi (Onur Gözeten) inside a little flat on a high-rise building, in a middle-class district of a large Turkish city. His condition is far more precarious than the old building, which is in desperate need of a lick of paint and renovation. Izzet is so weak that he barely move. His vulnerably is visible from his scrawny, boney figure. He spends most of his time on a hospital bed in his bedroom. Roughly 30 minutes into the film, the c-word (“cancer”) is finally spelled out, confirming the suspicion most viewers would’ve had by then.
It is only inside an alternative world that Ezzit can freely move, saunter around, or even dance. His 3D avatar (played by the young actor himself) is full of lifer and energy. He goes to parties, and mingles with a cat-faced human friend with a large fluffy tale. These colourful developments take place inside a VR headpiece, which Izzet can comfortably wear even on his hospital bed. Reality is a lot more panful. While this is never clearly stated, it becomes increasingly clear the Izzet is under palliative care. Reyhan, however, is in denial. She remains optimistic that her son could get better. The online influencer shares the remedies that she creates for her only child to her 50,000+ followers. Abdi is a lot more sceptical. He’s desperate to help his son, but his approach is diagonally opposed to his wife’s: he wants to get hold of a poisonous herb so that he can carry out Izzet’s mercy killing.
The problem is that his Muslim priest refuses to help him, as do the pharmacists. Unaided by his wife (who insists that Abdi should tell their son that he “is not going to die”), the man goes on a mission to find the elusive toxin that will precipitate Ezzit’s demise, and cut his suffering short. In fact, she may believe that her husband is seeking a remedy instead of a poison. The exact reason why she does not seek to deter him is unclear, in a plot that isn’t always entirely cohesive.
Religion is one of the film’s central pillars, in a country where more than 98% of the population practice Islam. Abdi repeatedly turns to God in search of answers. His imam reflects on mortality and the ethics of assisted suicide. Just like Christianity, the second-largest religion in the world does not allow for the early termination of life for medical reasons.
The premise of LifeLike is heart-wrenching, and the promise of mitigation through technology is a very interesting and audacious one. It partially works. While the plush fantastic VR world is indeed in stark contrast to Izzet’s gloomy existence – thereby creating a film with multiple textures and a narrative reason to connect them -, Ali Vatansever’s third feature film is never as effective as it could have been. That’s for a combination of factors. Firstly, Izzet’s debilitation is repetitive, with no new elements added. After a while, the gruelling routine becomes monotonous to watch. Plus, there is very limited character development, preventing more profound allegiance with the hapless protagonist. We never learn when Izzet fell ill, what he used to do, ad how his relationship to his parents was before the tragic disease. Three people around his age visit him on two different occasions, but there is little clue as to the nature of their bond.
Plus, the AI-generated images and the alternative world are unevenly spread throughout the story. There’s a long animation sequence in the beginning, and a couple of brief ones throughout the film. The device is used to more convincing results in this 115-minute film’s beautiful and moving denouement, which is bursting with allegorical devices, music and the subtle touch joie-de-vivre that the story desperately lacked.
LifeLike just premiered in the Official Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.
