A slow-burning film in more than one sense, Seyhmus Altun’s dismal debut feature, screening in the New Directors section at San Sebastián after a recent world premiere in Toronto, is as visually spare as it is hauntingly lyrical and emotionally resonant, not despite but because of its starkly unsentimental perspective. The Turkish director-writer’s pondering, pessimistic portrait of loss, absence, and the invisible burdens rural communities carry draws a world in which disaster can descend any moment upon a seemingly safe daily life. Between smoky skies and lush Anatolian pastures, the unspoken and unseen is always palpable, irretrievably changing the world of the childlike protagonist.
Ten-year-old Esma (Defne Zeynep Enci) tries to preserve fragments of her childhood after a chemical plant explosion in rural Anatolia sets off an endless underground fire, poisoning her village. Left in the care of her father, Mehmet (Hakan Karsak), a man broken by grief and mounting financial despair, Esma is forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years. As the land sickens and neighbors lose both their homes and their hope, the bond between father and daughter becomes equally strained and essential. With imperturbable, inquisitive eyes, the little girl watches her childhood and sense of security devoured by an apocalyptic event beyond her understanding.
Despite the plot’s catastrophic momentum, the subdued story is not a disaster movie. Altun is not interested in the spectacle of destruction, dramatic display of emotion, and grandiose rescues. Her father’s and older brother’s heavy silence left by the death of Esma’s mother, and her own irrecoverable loss of lightheartedness, are at the core of the somber narrative. Inner and outer transformation mirror each other in a realist scenario that slowly gives way to subtle symbolism. The creeping fires filling the air with stifling smoke become a metaphor for growing despair. Forced evacuation drives people out of their homes, animals perish, and local livelihoods unravel.
Gloomy, ghostly images see the infernal destruction approaching from afar or dwell on the quiet aftermath. Hakan Karsak’s often wordless performance shows Mehmet as a man worn out by grief, financial precarity, and silent anger at his own helplessness. With her older brother retreating into his headspace, shutting off his surroundings with headphones, Esma becomes even more solitary. Enci’s natural performance moves with ease between sorrow, playfulness, and silent mystification at the seismic events around her. Cevahir Sahin’s impressive chiaroscuro cinematography alternates between sweeping exteriors and constricted interiors. Daylight views of verdant fields and an open horizon melt into scorched earth and ominous skies.
Juxtaposition of the pastoral and the toxic not only heightens the experienced change but underscores how outward serenity can temporarily persist while decay and destruction spread from within. The ecological fable is also an emotional one: Prolonged silence about the factory’s environmental damage and the death of Esma’s mother has caused irreparable damage. Now all that’s left is uncertainty, conveyed also in a more brittle, disruptive structure. The slow pacing builds an ever-growing tension that never resolves into a cathartic climax. Protagonist and audience alike are left with an aura of permanent ambiguity. On a narrative level, this might feel frustrating, but psychologically, it rings all the more true.
- OT: Aldışımız Nefes
- Director: Seyhmus Altun
- Year: 2025
