Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Küf or Mold, by Ali Aydın




The greenish hues, the stillness, the outdated and worn out buildings and people are closer to the American conspiracy movies of the seventies than anything else, with a strong melancholy Anatolian twist. If one watches Mold unprepared, the film will be placed somewhere in the past. As it is, the story is closer to home than one might think. Exhibited in festivals and art houses in 2013, the film provides an eery context to the Istanbul events of June 2013.

Mass graves are uncovered almost every year in Istanbul, many of the dead are Kurds from the PKK, but not only. Mold is about one father whose son has disappeared and has been missing for the last 18 years.
(...)

“In the past, Turkey was proud of its underground mine treasures; now Turkey has more to be proud of, such as skulls and bones from unsolved murders,” Republican People’s Party (CHP) Deputy Chairman Sezgin Tanrıkulu said Jan. 15 during a visit to the area.

Kül
is Ali Aydın's debut film. It has been screened in MoMA and has won the Lion of the Future Award at the Venice Film Festival. Aydın comes from the field of contemporary art and, in his own words, ended up being a director by chance. Küf took him six years to write. Like Pelin, Aydın chose a transportation station for his set: this small place where people and carriages are always coming and going symbolize the crossroads in the character's lives. In Küf, the immobilism of the father, waiting for news for 18 years, contrasts darkly with the nature of his workplace.

site. Slant review. Rapporto confidenziale review.

The greenish hues of the film, the beautiful melancholic landscapes, the masterfully crafted sets with their carefully chosen objects, the diffuse light: a story of loss and longing that reads as a true work of art.


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chego a pensar que há tantos mortos na cidade como vivos, todos habitando as mesmas moradas, como no cemitério da colina de Eyüp. nos livros de Altun, para quem os mortos estão mais vivos do que os próprios, os edifícios são divididos entre soulless e os outros. esta noção, que carrego para o meu próprio olhar sobre todas as construções e cidades, altera paisagens. Hamburgo é uma cidade onde os mortos falam alto, parece-me, porque foram apagados das paredes das suas casas. 'reconstruir do nada', uma noção curiosa e que só cabe na inocência de alguns: a aldeia da luz reconstruída é um desses lugares soulless, que os vivos abandonam (e talvez onde nem os mortos queiram estar), os programas televisivos de decoração, ou bem - todas as coisas decorativas, se encarregam desse trabalho de retirar a memória e os mortos. como em Casa Ocupada, um dos meus contos favoritos de sempre, o que significa ocupar a casa? quem a ocupa? como somos expulsos de nós mesmos?

violento, este Kül.



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