The Tyrant Behind the Camera

Behind the scenes of any film often remains a mystery. We all know that even backstage documentaries are carefully constructed narratives. And, in film sets, as social and professional codes have their influence over people, it is difficult to capture the sincere behavior of individuals. So, discovering filmmakers in the filmmaking process as an outsider is nearly impossible. I’m aware of this truth because every film I’ve made holds many untold events. What we can share with you is only small fragments that mostly lose their freshness and rawness due to reconstruction. Sadly, you won’t fully know us, and perhaps that’s for the best.

Recently, I stumbled upon a backstage moment in the footage of my short film Downtown (2014). It was a scene we struggled to capture with the lead actor, Yilmaz, who is also my cousin. And, as I watched this footage, a tough realization hit me: This was an unfiltered glimpse into myself.

Picture this: a small pier, a shaky tripod on the edge, and the threat of a fall into the cold sea with one wrong move. The wind is relentless and biting. The script demands a puff of smoke but cigarettes struggle to ignite. And when it finally ignites, it defies my directorial aspirations. So, my nervousness translates into rude directives toward my cousin while I seek artistic perfection.

Now, I ponder, did I really need to be so rude at that moment? Absolutely not. And, this unfiltered mode which works well with my teenage cousin, would certainly struggle on a crowded film set shaped by societal and professional standards. You know, socializing demands adaptability, and people always expect more kindness. That’s why, in the following years, I had to learn to act like a football coach who doesn’t intervene with actors but rather focuses on preparing the appropriate environment and tactics.

Anyway, here is that raw moment from 2014, a tyrant, unfiltered and brash, directs a scene:

Sure, my rudeness isn’t the only thing I have to say about the video. After watching it for quite a while, I discovered that it offers a chance for self-reflection on two distinct subjects. Now, let me talk about them.

Local Accent

Turkish speakers could perceive my way of speaking as comical and provincial because of my strong Laz accent. And actually, this perception subjected me to a lifetime of prejudiced moments. You know, talking like this makes it nearly impossible to be taken seriously, intellectually or artistically. Of course, I don’t hold individuals responsible for this, it is more about societal habits that you can encounter in any culture. And, as people become familiar with you, the conversation reverts to its normal, ideal state.

This situation always reminds me of that legendary homicide detective, Columbo. He plays the part of a bit of a goof to make the suspects underestimate him. Then they mistake and reveal more than they intended. So I have to adopt a similar role that doesn’t clash with people’s assumptions at first. But unlike Columbo, my story doesn’t end with solving a murder mystery. Instead, I find myself having to endure cliché advice.

Of course, I longed for the chance to express myself as I did at that moment and did not encounter any judgments on that. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t always conform to the scripts we imagine. I find myself compelled to compromise. And it is unclear how well I do it.

Recording vs. Action

Another thing is that, as you might notice, I used the term recording over the conventional action to kickstart the scene. You know, the usage of action carries a cinematic legacy from the analog era when film cameras and sound recorders needed a moment to start rolling and recording before the mise-en-scène could start. So rolling and action stood as pivotal words to kickstart a scene.

But, being a product of the digital age, in my early works I handled camera, sound, and mise-en-scène responsibilities myself. For me, hitting the record button essentially meant starting everything at once. So, using the word recording replaced the traditional rolling and action in my vocabulary (as it did for many filmmakers from my generation too).

Moreover, in my later films, the term recording serves as a subtle tool to play with the perceptions of actors. To capture authentic and heartfelt moments from them, I refrain from announcing the act of recording. Instead, I let them believe that the camera only begins capturing when I say the word. Little do they know, the camera records all the time. This subtle deception occasionally causes more sincere performances, as the actors reveal a more natural side of themselves under the impression that the camera is off. So, in my world, it’s not action, it’s all about hitting that record button.

And lastly, here is the version of the scene in the film: