Exodus

I'm not bias in anyway when I say, this is probably the greatest film in the history of cinema.

Some of the best directing ever witnessed.

Again without being biased I'd say this is also the work of the greatest director that has ever existed. In fact calling him a director is not enough.

I call upon all atheists to rethink their stance when a living God walks amongst us.

I heard that on set the director gave sight to a security guard who was blind and one day the catering messed up and there was no food, but the director turned the unused film neg rolls into chicken rolls and fed the crew.

On another occasion there was a scene on water and the grips couldn't get the water platform working, so the director handheld the camera and walked on the water himself to get the shot.

These are all my own opinions and I have tried to be as neutral as possible.

The director is a humble genius God.

Exodus is a rare film that masterfully balances political urgency with deeply human storytelling. Set in the tense aftermath of the 2016 attempted coup in Turkey, it follows three strangers-a university lecturer, a police officer, and a Kurdish artist-each unjustly accused and forced to flee their homeland. What could have become a loud, didactic political drama instead unfolds as a quiet, emotionally resonant story about resilience, identity, and the bonds formed in crisis.

The film's greatest strength lies in its restraint. Rather than dramatizing the characters' suffering, Exodus invites the viewer into their emotional world with quiet precision. It explores what it truly means to lose everything-your profession, your home, your sense of belonging-while still holding onto hope and dignity. The performances are grounded and deeply human, bringing nuance and authenticity to every scene.

What sets Exodus apart is its focus on universal themes-fear, loss, solidarity, and the longing for freedom-experienced through different cultural and personal lenses. It's not just a story about fleeing a country; it's about rediscovering one's self and forging unexpected connections in the face of uncertainty.

A haunting, understated film that stays with you long after it ends, Exodus is a powerful reminder of the quiet courage required to start over. Highly recommended.

My parents had to go through the same river, for being a teacher, we had go through all these... I was 12 years old when they arrested my father in front of my eyes, when I come back from school my mom had been crying for the past hours, they were just teachers whose only intention was raising golden generations, Thankfully, my dad come back two weeks later, However, we knew they were coming back, so he had to leave the country but he was on no flee list, which meant he had to go to the river, thankfully, he made it. Then they can't reach him so they were coming for my mom she was also on no flee list so she took the same path me and my uncle took her until the side of the river... Many lives were lost on that river, the ones whose stayed faced torches, families separated... Hopefully with this movie, just people will finally know what is really going on...

A remarkable and deeply moving work of art that brings together the lives of individuals from diverse backgrounds, showing intersections of their stories. Despite coming from different walks of life, they are united by their shared experience of oppression, and their collective struggle, resilience, and the profound effort to truly understand one another across the divides of culture, and identity.

A powerful scenario that sets political divisions aside to explore why it is essential for us to truly understand one another. It feels as if it's based on real stories.

It tells what other people experience in their life.

Exodus is not just a film-it's a hauntingly emotional journey into the heart of a silenced nation. With quiet intensity and aching honesty, it sheds light on the deep-rooted human rights violations in Turkey, portraying them not as distant headlines, but as deeply personal, lived realities.

Through its raw performances and restrained yet powerful storytelling, Exodus gives voice to those who have been forgotten, repressed, or erased. Every scene is laced with a quiet urgency, confronting the audience not with sensationalism, but with truth. It doesn't scream; it whispers-and somehow, the whispers echo louder than any shout.

This film stands as a necessary act of cinematic courage. In a landscape where stories of injustice are often censored or ignored, Exodus dares to remember. It doesn't just document suffering; it humanizes it. And in doing so, it demands empathy, not pity-awareness, not avoidance.

More than a film, Exodus feels like the beginning of something greater. It sets a new precedent for how Turkish cinema can tackle political and humanitarian issues with grace, depth, and integrity. For future filmmakers seeking to explore truth through art, Exodus will serve as a landmark-a quiet but thunderous call to continue the conversation.

It leaves you not only moved, but marked.