Don’t Underestimate Your Everyday Films

After the 2000s, Turkish Cinema started to gain global attention thanks to the rise of independent films, state and international funds, social and global media, and festival circuits. Before this period, of course, Turkish films were already being produced and enjoyed by Turkish audiences. However, almost all filmmakers of that era had to make populist and mass-audience-oriented films to sustain their careers. So, Turkish Cinema existed in its own bubble for a long time by recycling similar themes, styles, and stories. But this isolation didn’t stop it from creating a cinematic identity.

I’m not referring to the films from renowned auteurs such as Metin Erksan, Lutfi Akad, Yilmaz Guney, and Serif Goren whose names are somehow internationally acclaimed. To me, they are exceptional figures who do not necessarily fit into a cinematic identity. Instead, I credit this success to the blockbuster films in the 1970s. I believe, those 70s Turkish blockbusters, largely unknown to the world, deserve more global attention toward their place in film history. Many of them, are still favored by Turkish people today. And they offer not only cultural but also cinematic values. Now, let me introduce a director who contributed to the identity of Turkish Cinema at that period.

The Director of Light-hearted Films

Ertem Egilmez is the director of box office hits like The Chaos Class (1975) and Smiling Eyes (1977) in the 70s. Sure, it’s easy to dismiss these films as they are purely populist, but behind them, there was a director with a clear vision. Egilmez had auteur leanings as well. He had such self-awareness that he ended his career with a strong and reflective statement with his final film, Arabesk (1989), in which he critiqued the clichés of Turkish Cinema of his time, including those present in his own films. However, his primary objective was always to make light-hearted films that sincerely connect with the audience.

Foster Brothers (1976) is my personal favorite among his films, which I’ve watched countless times. It is a comedy about three naval soldiers who stumble into a hilarious case of mistaken identity. Saban, Ramazan, and Bayram, serving in the Ottoman Navy, find themselves at their commander Husamettin’s house during a weekend leave. In a series of comical twists, they end up impersonating each other to avoid revealing their true identities to their commander.

When Ramazan falls in love with Husamettin’s niece, he decides to introduce himself to her as her foster brother, Saban. But, Husamettin mistakenly assumes that Ramazan is his son-in-law, Bayram. People at the house maintain this deception as they are afraid of Husamettin’s volatile temperament. So, Ramazan wants to impersonate Saban, but he finds himself as Bayram. Later, when the real Saban and Bayram arrive at the house, the situation becomes even more complicated. Saban must pretend to be Ramazan, while Bayram must act as Saban which leads to a series of comedic situations. Moreover, a mysterious ghoul that haunts the house increases confusion and brings humorous and even horror elements to the already complex situation.

A Minimalist Approach to Using Space

To me, what stands out in this film is not the story itself but rather how the space is used cinematically. The film revolves around two main locations, a naval ship and a house, both captured with an extremely minimalist approach. And the house that hosts most of the events gives the film a sense of intimacy within a single space. This approach seems the director’s signature which is also evident in his other films such as The Chaos Class (1975) and Smiling Eyes (1977).

So, Foster Brothers (1976) doesn’t rely on a strong narrative as most blockbusters do. Instead, it creates a subtle story around the ghoul with a layer of suspense. While the uncertainty of the ghoul’s existence and the characters’ efforts to catch it create conflict, it’s not the ghoul itself that drives the film. Rather, it’s the sincere moments in the house, with their comedic and sometimes exaggerated tone. We feel like a guest in that house and experience its joys and even moments of fear.

The Human Interactions

As the soldiers’ roles shift, the women in the house also step into new roles. Bayram’s wife must be Ramazan’s wife. The maid of the house falls for Ramazan, while Saban falls in love with the woman whom his commanding officer, Husamettin, is also interested in. And that woman, Bihter, is the one who is aware of the backstory of the ghoul and secret plans about the family. These human interactions drive the film forward and shift our focus from the plot to the family dynamics.

This approach is nearly as successful as that of the master director Jean Renoir‘s classic, The Rules of the Game (1939) which explores the betrayals among people within a household while all characters remain aware of each other’s actions. And Cristi Puiu‘s ultra-realistic film Sieranevada (2016) could be a more modern example for understanding this approach: set in a single space, featuring a variety of characters, exploring family dynamics, complex situations, humorous moments, traditions, desires, and more. So, I think, Foster Brothers (1976) is not actually your ordinary everyday film as it looks at first glance, it is a masterful attempt (of course, unless you regard its evaluation through the lens of today’s trendy socio-political context).

While I don’t expect it to have quite the same impact as it does on Turkish people, I’d love for my international friends to watch it at least as an experiment. The film can be viewed on this YouTube link with auto-translated subtitles which are quite accurate (enable Turkish subtitles from the settings, click the auto-translate that will appear in the same menu, and select English).