La extraña

After seeing this film, I assumed it was directed by a Turkish director named Feo Aladag. When I googled this name, a picture of a young blond woman filled the screen. As it turned out, Feo Aladag is an Austrian actress/director, married to Turkish/German author Zuli Aladag, who is also the producer of Die Fremde.

I mention this because I think it is important. In this film, the Turkish community in Germany is not pictured in a very favourable way. The story shows the fate of Umay, a young Turkish/German woman who wants a divorce because her husband beats her and because, perhaps more importantly, she doesn't love him. She leaves her husband and moves with her young son to her family in Berlin. Surprisingly, her father and brother take sides with her husband and urge her to return to him. In their view, she has dishonoured her husband and her own family by separating her son from his father. This conflict escalates in a dramatic way, with terrible consequences.

The film pictures Umay as a woman who is denied her 'Western' rights as a woman and a mother, and shows her family as driven by 'non-Western' values like honour and tradition. For them, the community is superior over the individual. For her, it's the other way round.

The message is pessimistic. Umay is a Turkish woman who adopts the German lifestyle. She wants to live her own life. She follows the integration model that the Turkish people in Western Europe are supposed to follow. But her brother and sister don't support her, although they are born and raised in Germany. They speak the German language, but think the Turkish way.

Like some of the films of Faith Akin (in which lead actress Sibel Kekilli also starred) this film focuses on the problems of the Turkish community in Germany. But it has a darker and more pessimistic tone. It's a very powerful movie, dealing with a very urgent issue.

This kind of story is only really interesting if it is true to life. I don't know what the day to day texture of life tends to be like for Turks in Germany -- I don't even know if the characters are ethnic Turks or Kurds -- so I have to trust the movie. But I don't know whether I should. Yes, the outlines of the plot come from a true story. I can forgive the movie for ignoring that Germany and Turkey have both signed the Hague Abduction Convention, which would allow the father to get his son back. Yes, many parts of the Muslim world share the sense that honor is tied to being able to control one's women, and honor killings happen. Yes, some children in a family may acculturate differently than others. And, yes, it was nuanced. But that does not necessarily mean that the nuances are there in life rather than only in the director's head. Ingmar Bergman comes to mind, and Amos Gitai (some of whose movies I somehow forced myself to watch all the way through). My suspicions were also raised by When We Leave's contemplative quiet, which is common in this kind of art movie but not in real life. But, let me re-emphasize, I don't really know that the picture is a fantasy, I only suspect.

This is such a difficult film to watch. It's the story of a Turkish woman trying to rise up beyond her culture and religion to pursue her autonomy. It's painful to watch given the strong performances/direction and script which will both shock you and get you reflecting on the current state of affairs.

The protagonist encounters various obstacles towards her pursuit of happiness, sadly within her own family. This is relatable regardless of your gender, cast or creed. The main actress Sibel Kekilli does a fantastic job of drawing the viewer into her turmoil. The pain she endures was truly palpable. A beautiful film.

The basic plot is simple: a young lady with a crazy in-laws feds up and leaves making her a total outcast. The acting seemed a bit too dramatic and overly polished. The actors are obviously talented and have done their best, but it showed that they were trying too hard, which took away the realism I was anticipating. More than a few scenes were simply yelling and slapping which I've found quite raw. The close-ups were nice generally with beautiful faces, occasionally with oblique views. At times, when we were shown a scene with people staring at each other silently which meant that the discussion was over, I wondered if that was really the case and not if we were witnessing a zen moment. As a side note, I just have to point out that the subject of film has little to do with religion or being a "muslim". The problem is far too deep which is really a sociological phenomena rooted in dogmatic cultural upbringings and a feudal life style (mostly) of the eastern part of country where people are just a dot in the family picture rather than individuals with autonomy. You could see that nobody in the family wanted to be a part of what was going on but they could not behave otherwise -- they were slaves of their communities even thousands of miles away.

The treatment of Muslim societies in the media in general and in film in particular has been subject to much agenda setting and bias. On the one hand, this has led to frequently arrogant defamation of the cultures of one fifth of humanity, on the other hand, the discourse has helped to highlight problems of Muslim integration which are often ignored under the convenient excuse of multiculturalism. What is more important: respect for other cultures living among us or concern for the plight of the individual subjected to an excessive chauvinism that allows for nothing but submission to it?

Feo Aladag's position on this is clear, but she avoids simplifications by sticking to one woman's story, and keeping that story close, while not identical, to the events that inspired it - namely the much publicized 2005 murder of Hatun Sürücü in Berlin, albeit with a surprising twist. Some may find the depictions of a regressive macho cult in German-Turkish families and social life exaggerated, especially since the acting of the supporting cast is a bit shaky at times. But as someone who has lived in a Turkish neighborhood in Berlin, I have to declare it's not. It's disturbingly close to the truth - not the distorted truth of tabloids, but the truth of people I'm close to.

The minimalistic approach of the film would usually render it a rather harmless affair, in spite of its controversial subject matter - were it not for Sibel Kekilli's outstanding performance, for which she received, among other awards, best actress at the Tribeca festival. Her heartfelt, knowing and yet forgiving gaze at the suffocating world she lives in speaks of personal experience with the role she portrays. 'When we leave' establishes her as the most exciting German actress of today.

It should be noted, by the way, that Islamic law does not condone honorary murders and considers these just as much as crimes as Western law does. Also, this practice is not exclusive to Muslim societies, but used to be widespread in Christian countries as well, where it might still occur as a justification for homicide. But these clarifications could not have been included in this film, which tells one story, and tells it well.