A Blotched Festival

I'm a little bit crushed and inconsolable right now...

February is the one month I am waiting for the whole year because of all the amazing film festivals, and this year I missed a big chunk of the biggest one, of the Berlinale, due to some personal issues combined with a health condition. So I ended up watching only three films. Not in a day, mind you, I'm talking about the whole duration of the festival... I watched them on the first and last day of the festival, before and after my sick dates. Quite some money on unused tickets and days from my annual leave burnt up; but it is the films I haven't been able to watch for which I mourne and I can't recover from. This year started so bad already, I hope I can stop crying some time and get over everything quickly.

Luckily I have one winner from the measly number of films I watched; in total I saw Sex, Faruk and Crossing, of which my 2024 Berlinale winner will definitely be Crossing by Levan Akin.

My life revolves around two cities; Berlin and Istanbul. Although I might find the one or the other trace from either of them in the other, they generally couldn't be more different from each other. Berlin has its own dark and light sides, but Istanbul is something else entirely. With so many people living there, encounters, contacts are generally inevitable and the feelings, the impressions, good as well as bad, evil as well as selfless, are an enhanced version of anything I have experienced in any western country. It's not for everyone, but not comparable to anything I know either. I used to think that if the whole world went down and Istanbul was saved, that would be fine with me - I love the city, Istanbul heals me. And I was pretty happy of the way Akin was able to capture the lives, the discrimination and the response thereto of one of the most marginalized groups living here - trans women.

My first true contact with trans women in Turkey occured while I was studying in Ankara, it must have been some time around the year 2000, a year earlier or later. I wasn't quite twenty yet and especially at that young phase in my life I often brought myself into stupid situations. The night I'm recounting, my roommate and I got involved with really the wrong type of guy, who, after a string of stupid misunderstandings felt messed with and I found myself that winter night alone, on a street you don't want to be alone at night, wearing nothing but my clubbing outfit, i.e. net mesh stockings, sneakers and my purple jacket with the faux fur collar, cars are honking when passing me by, absolutely no money in my pocket, no way to get home but walk and I'm scared. It's a really long and stupid story, but just know that neither my friend nor I were seriously hurt, we actually got off lightly, with no more than a fright.

In this desolate situation, my guardian angels came in the shape of a group of trans women immediately surrounding me as soon as they were aware of me, putting their hands on my shoulders, asking me what a sweety like me is doing in a place like this at this time of night. Moved before such a shower of friendship and affection, I could have burst out crying. They called a taxi cab they trust and gave me money for the ride home and sent me home. I could never pay the favor back, but from there on I did give (trans) women my support and solidarity whenever I had the opportunity.

It seems like Istanbul is a city you come to when you want to disappear.

I wasn't aware what the film Crossing was really about, I just knew it revolves around an older woman searching for her niece, who is a trans woman. That she is Georgian and her search leads her to Istanbul was secondary in my head. And indeed Lia's search for Tekla constitutes the backbone of the plot, and the insecurities she hides behind her highly sarcastic personality, her sweet and sour relationship to teenager Achi, poverty and struggles, people on the outskirts of society are the meat. I never would have thought Akin would let the city play such an important role in his movie, Istanbul is basically a very vivid, living character here. If you have ever been there, you will understand how well he managed to capture the atmosphere, the heat, the humidity but also the people, the teeming life of the city.

You could almost think it's all rosy and dance and music and joy everywhere here, but as I said above, Istanbul also is the blackest of black. In an interview, the director states that he is aware of the shady sides of living as trans in Turkey, but deliberately chose to focus on positive encounters between people because the world is already shitty as it is. An approach, soothing and wholesome even for a horror queen - I am a fan of Levan. (By the way, the scene Lia dances is shot in the same beer house I celebrated my last birthday, yay!)

So it's obvious this film spoke to me, moved me. I hope to be able to see more of Akin's work in the future, such good choice for a festival!