‘Life’ Review: Turkey’s Oscar Submission Loses the Plot on Toxic Masculinity

As someone who hails from Turkey and is deeply invested in the stories that unfold within my homeland, I must confess that “Life” left me feeling rather disheartened. The film, while beautifully shot and boasting commendable performances, seems to miss the mark in a significant way.


In “Life,” the long-awaited return to filmmaking by Turkish auteur Zeki Demirkubuz after seven years, I find myself playing the role of a supporter as we follow a young woman named Hicran, who escapes from the grasp of an impending arranged marriage and disappears into secrecy.

As a film enthusiast, I initially don’t learn much about Hicran directly, but rather from the men connected to her, such as her perplexed father and sorrowful ex-fiancé, who frequently mention Hicran in their discussions, contemplating the enigmatic reasons behind her sudden disappearance. It seems significant that we keep hearing the name “Hicran,” a common Turkish name meaning “longing” or intense yearning, which fits perfectly in this narrative as it reflects everyone in “Life” seems to be longing for something or someone. This isn’t just a coincidence; the choice of Hicran’s name is deliberately symbolic and underscores the theme of longing that pervades the entire film.

I find myself drawn to Demirkubuz’s work, as he seemingly persists in shedding light on the unspoken struggles and suppressed pain of the male characters crossing Hicran’s path, regardless of their role as oppressors towards women like her in a society where patriarchal beliefs are deeply ingrained. Despite Hicran emerging as the central figure in this narrative, Demirkubuz appears to leave her aspirations and longings somewhat elusive, frequently relegating them to secondary importance.

The man whom Hicran flees, Rıza (Burak Dakak), stands out among arrogant suitors. Despite having met Hicran only a few times, and against the wishes of his kind grandfather (Osman Alkaş), Rıza believes that Hicran should have confronted him and provided an explanation for her reluctance to marry him (as if the prospect of an arranged marriage wasn’t already a compelling enough reason). Disregarding the beautiful town by the Black Sea, he journeys to Istanbul in search of the woman who, according to his perspective, has wronged him.

Initially, we accompany Rıza amidst rough transitions and prolonged episodes, during which his acquaintances and relatives, each grappling with their own illusions, make brief appearances. Eventually, Rıza takes decisive action, akin to a troubled Travis Bickle, executing the supposed offender who supposedly coerced Hicran into sex work, despite no indication that Hicran dislikes her occupation in this role. Subsequently, Rıza departs from the narrative for a while, allowing other unsavory characters to assume control, men who believe they understand what’s best for Hicran. Among them is Orhan (Cem Davran), an older and comparatively liberal educator whom Hicran agrees to marry in an attempt to find respite from her traditional father, only to discover that he is yet another unintelligent, insecure individual who becomes envious without cause. The other is Mehmet (Umut Kurt), Hicran’s morally compromised father who frequently assaults his wife and flippantly refers to his rebellious daughter as a “whore.

If the narrative in “Life” had remained equally critical of both Hicran and the problematic men, it would be acceptable. However, as the film progresses, it seems to excessively justify the wrongdoings of these entitled males, hinting at a sympathetic portrayal. This shift is troubling, especially given the current context in Turkey where women and their supporters march under banners like “Women’s killings are not random, they are political,” advocating for an end to patriarchal oppression. In such a climate, the film’s seemingly lenient stance towards male misconduct feels problematic.

The movie’s plot is equally disappointing, stumbling awkwardly through a story that fails to justify its lengthy playtime. To illustrate another Turkish director known for his long and deliberate pacing, let me cite Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Unlike him, who skillfully infuses every moment with captivating nuance, “Life” (co-shot by cinematographers of Ceylan’s latest masterpiece, “About Dry Grasses”) appears to have been carelessly and uninspiringly slow. Although the film’s dedicated acting and authentic setting keep viewers engaged, they don’t detract from its underlying issues. Unfortunately, “Life” seems devoid of any significant commentary on toxic masculinity.

In Demirkubuz’s work, destructive male obsessions are not a new theme, as seen in “Destiny” (2006), which is briefly shown on TV in “Life.” However, this might be the first time such behavior leads to an unambiguous victory in one of his films. To avoid revealing crucial spoilers, let me say that Hicran eventually accepts Rıza, a potentially dangerous avenger who may have killed her pimp instead. As “Life” concludes, they appear content together, and Hicran is visibly pregnant. Did she give up resisting because she was resigned to her fate or did she genuinely love Rıza? If it’s the former, the film seems overly satisfied with this troubling ending. If it’s the latter, the idea of finding romance with a stalker who kills out of passion becomes even more unsettling.

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2024-11-21 01:47