QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM BERLIN
The action takes place on semi-arid mountains, a place dotted with small villages, derelict stone buildings and olive trees. It looks a lot like the West Bank. You would be forgiven for presuming this is a movie about the Israel versus Palestine struggle, particularly after seeing keffiyeh-clad corpses being loaded onto the back of a pick-up vehicle. In reality, this is a film about tribal feuding in a remote region of Turkey.
Mesut (played by handsome theatre director and actor Caner Cindoruk) belongs to the Harezan clan. He married to heavily pregnant Gülsüm (Özlem Taş). The gyneacologist reveals to the couple that the woman is expecting twins. The father-to-be receives the news with consternation. Old-fashioned tradition and local folklore maintain that twins are a sign of the devil. The Bezari clan – which has recently returned from exile in order to claim houses in the village – has an abundant number of such “evil” children, Mesut argues. He is thus convinced that his spouse was touched by the devil. Infernal visions help to corroborate his suspicions. The desperate woman swears to Mesut that the children are his, to little avail.
Our protagonist has good intentions: he wishes to vouch for the security of his people. It is intolerable that their “martyrs” died in the past only to see their land stolen by “terrorists” now. The Bezari, led by a placid nan called Halil, seem mostly harmless. Sheikh Ferit (Feyyaz Duman) is a lot more sensible. He uses his faith and his power in order to ask for peace. Mesut is unimpressed. He believes that the religious leader is being complacent, perhaps even complicit with the enemies. Supported by his loyal friend Yilmaz (Berkay Ateş), he encourages the tribesmen to rebel. His swivel-eyes determination gradually begins to win the heart of locals. And so he builds an army of “anti-terrorist” militants.
The tension escalates. Children, adults and animals pay with their lives for the obsessions of their self-appointed leaders. Mesut claims that killing a child is justifiable. Nothing is off-limits, it seems, including lying and deceiving the gendarmerie. Conspiracy theories surface: Mesut believes that the state is arming his foes. He is prepared to take his “resistance” tactics the most shocking extreme.
With a duration of nearly 120 minutes, Salvation is at its strongest during the various dream sequences that punctuate the story. That’s when the creator – Turkish director and writer Emin Alper – abandons the often confusing plot in favour of unabashed lyricism. Highlights include a horrifying entity-rape scene, Chador-clad characters remove their garments in order to reveal a deadly surprise. Ghostly children and adults run through the labyrinthic allies and backstreets of tightly-crammed buildings at night, recalling the ending of Don’t Look Now (Nicolas Roeg, 1973). The imagery is impressive, with vivid colours, precise lighting, and excellent editing. The ending is memorable, both narratively and visually.
Spoken in Turkish and Kurdish, there is little to no contextualisation of the ethnic divides that inform the movie. As such, Salvation avoids making any overt political statements (a choice guaranteed to please “non-political’.jury president Wim Wenders). Ultimately, this is a movie about the futility of tribal feuding, and the repercussions of religious fanaticism. Your new neighbour doesn’t have to be your enemy. And no man should allow literal visions to guide him. The devil isn’t always on the other side. It might reside right inside of you.
Salvation just premiered in the Official Competition of the 76th Berlinale.
