QUICK ‘ N DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN

From the moment director Melik Kuru’s comedy, Dump of Untitled Pieces comes into being, one begins searching for the right words to describe it. One might see it as being gentle, but with an irreverence that spiritually channels cinematic movements like the Nouvelle Vague that broke cinematic traditions. Meanwhile, its humour can be both witty and dry. Regardless, it’s brimming with life and it’s difficult to not be seduced by its charm and beautiful monochrome photography.

This frantic search to articulate how the film affects us reveals the immediate spark of connection, and yet, herein lies an irony. The enigmatic photographer Asli (Manolya Maya) does not appear to be a character driven by connection. She’s an observer, and if she turns out to be a genius photographer, she’ll be one of those types that openly expresses feelings of indifference towards other people.

Asli photographs peoples hands as part of an ongoing art project. She does it candidly, which in one instance culminates in a tense confrontation and foot chase when a man demands she destroy the photograph he caught her taking. Sharing an apartment with friend Murat (Ekremcan Arslandağ), the pair financially scrape by. Fortunately, the local shop owner looks on them with sympathy and gives them any spoiling vegetables for free. Asli dreams of becoming a successful photographer, exhibiting her work and permanently resolving their financial woes. Trying to turn a dream into a reality, Murat steps into the shoes of her manager, with hilarious consequences.

It’s difficult to imagine Dump of Untitled Pieces as being shot in colour, because the monochrome cinematography is the only way to view Asli and Murat’s world. It’s not only the striking crisp image but a deeper connection that it shares with Asli’s black and white photographs. By synching up the film’s cinematography and the character’s art, Kuru shows an attention to detail that threads together different layers of his film.

Dump of Untitled Pieces is spiritually older than its years. There’s a jazz vibe to the film’s soundtrack that recalls Miles Davis’ score for Louis Malle’s Lift to the Scaffold (Ascenseur pour l’échfaud, 1958). The score for Dump of Untitled Pieces might not have the punch of the former, but composer Efe Demiral conjures up a specific sound that echoes the carefree energy of those films of the 50s and 60s. Hence, Dump of Untitled Pieces is an oxymoron — it’s young and old.

Asli is the film’s heart and soul. She’s one of those captivating characters that can only exist in cinema. What she offers us is an escape from our everyday reality where we’re weighed down by insecurities and the need to fit in and be accepted. When we spend time with Asli, as well as other cinematic and literary outsiders, they temporarily empower us. Maya, whose background is as an assistant director and not acting, brings a different type of physicality to the role. Not something that can be easily articulated, rather it’s something instinctively sensed. And just as it’s difficult to imagine Dump of Untitled Pieces being shot in colour, it’s difficult to imagine anyone else as Asli.

While the film will charm audiences, it would be naíve to think Kuru’s vision lacks the strength to get under the audience’s skin in a different way. Asli and Murat are like a storm that kicks up and blows throughout the city and the elitist art world. They are disruptors, and the greatest complement that can be paid to Kuru is that Dump of Untitled Pieces is a Turkish film that feels decidedly more worldly – a disruptive gem.

Dump of Untitled Pieces just premiered in the First Feature Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.