Sivas': Venice Review | 9/2/2014 by Boyd van Hoeij
Biennale di Venezia |Venice Film Festival (Competition)
The Bottom Line
This looks great even if the story and pint-sized protagonist don't really know what they want
Cast
Dogan Izci, Ozan Celik, Banu Fotocan, Hasan Yazilitilas, Okan Avci
Director
Kaan Mujdeci
This Turkish film about a boy and his dog ain't no 'Lassie'
The movie might be about a little boy and his dog, but Turkish director Kaan Mujdeci's unflinching feature debut, Sivas, ain't no Lassie. Set in the brutal world of dog fighting in rural eastern Anatolia, this is a strikingly photographed but narratively somewhat baggy tale of a country kid who doesn't yet know the difference between being right and just wanting to have his way. A high-profile Venice competition slot should help this feature get noticed on the festival circuit, and theatrical distribution in cinephile countries such as France is likely. However, in straightforward marketing terms, the precise target audience for a film like Sivas is hard to pin down, since it's much too violent for kids yet doesn't give anyone over 12 or on just two legs more than a passing glance.
The protagonist of the film is not, as the title suggests, the eponymous Kangal sheep dog, which is not only called Sivas but is also actually from the city of Sivas (where Kangal dogs are believed to have originated). Instead, that honor goes to the imposing — in attitude if not in size — 11-year-old smartypants Aslan (Dogan Izci), which appropriately means "lion" in Turkish.
The film's leisurely first half-hour sketches the rather regular life of Aslan in the small Anatolian village where he lives with his parents (Banu Fotocan, Hasan Yazilitilas) and adult brother, Sahin (Ozan Celik). The boy is the kind of kid who tries to impress his peers from school and who, when he's cast as one of the seven dwarfs in a school production of Snow White, becomes irritable because of course he deserved to be the prince since his crush, Ayse (Ezgi Ergin), plays the lead. Aslan's also worried he might have killed a horse Sahin entrusted to him when throwing a stone. In this first section, Mujdeci keeps the camera close to the ground to match the eyelines of the pint-sized protagonists and is never in a hurry. Indeed, initially it is the kind of film where even a leaking pipe in the family stable gets its moment in the arty spotlight.
But the film's second act sees more action as the titular animal is finally introduced at a vicious and impressively staged dogfight, where Sivas loses and is subsequently left for dead by its owners. Little Aslan is the only one who notices the dog's still breathing and decides to stay by its side until Sahin has to come and pick him up after dark. Something of a conventional plot seems to develop when the lionhearted tyke tries to impress Ayse with "his" dog, which he's practically adopted and which none of the adults seem to think might potentially be a danger. Aslan even goes as far as staging a dogfight with another canine brought along by their classmates. This savage struggle, dramatically staged in the center of an extremely large wide shot and in a single take, again impresses and makes one pray there's a "no animals where harmed" notice in the end credits (thankfully, there is).
But just as the film seems to have found its groove, the third act again offers something else as his potential puppy-love interest drops from view, as do the other kids from Aslan's class, which he started skipping and for which there seems to be no real punishment. Instead, some of the adults of his family as well as the village head (Muttalip Mujdeci) decide to take Sivas and Aslan to the "national championship" of the illegal blood sport, near Ankara.
What's there in terms of story thus often feels secondary to a sense of place and character, but thankfully Mudjeci at least reveals an impeccable sense of how composition can suggest emotions and make situations dramatically more dynamic. The Berlin-based director, whose 2012 documentary short Fathers & Sons also look at dogfights in Turkey, has a natural flair for disposing the elements to their maximum advantage in his widescreen frames. For example, when he tries to ask his schoolteacher (Okan Avci) for the already-cast role of Snow White's prince, Aslan's face is half hidden by a garden wall, suggesting his head knows he should be ashamed, but at the same time he's still courageous enough to go and ask what his heart desires.
Indeed, the best thing about Sivas is the sense of the uncomfortable age at which Aslan finds himself, no longer a true kid but not yet a full-fledged teenager either. Small domestic details, such as the occasionally epic, entirely unreasonable tantrums — one involving him shedding his clothes as he keeps throwing stones at his father and brother is especially remarkable — and his refusal to let his mother wash him, send the appropriately mixed messages about his state of maturity. And as Aslan, the nonprofessional Izci, often very intense, is a true find who's nicely supported by a cast composed of a mix of nonprofessionals and actors.
Production companies: Kaan Film, Coloured Giraffes, Ret Film
Cast: Dogan Izci, Hasan Ozdemir, Ezgi Ergin, Furkan Uyar, Ozan Celik, Muttalip Mujdeci, Banu Fotocan, Hasan Yazilitilas, Okan Avci
Writer-Director: Kaan Mujdeci
Producer: Yasin Mujdeci
Co-producers: Nesra Gurbuz, Cigdem Mater
Directors of photography: Armin Dieroff, Martin Hogsnes Solvang
Production designers: Meral Efe Yurtsever, Emre Yurtsever
Costume designer: Ayse Yildiz
Editor: Yorgos Mavropsaridis
Music: Cevdet Erek
No rating, 97 minutes
Venice 2014: 'Sivas' review by John Bleasdale
★★★☆☆
Turkish filmmaker Kaan Mujdeci's debut feature film and Venice competition entry Sivas (2014) is a well-shot if slight story of a young boy who finds a place for himself in the world as the owner of a fighting dog. Dogan Izci plays Aslan - not the wise lion of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe fame, but rather an 11-year-old with heaps of attitude. We first see Aslan setting off fireworks and then scrapping with his mates. He lives in a small village in rural Anatolia with his almost invisible mother and taciturn father and his slightly deranged grown up brother Sahin (Ozan Celik). Beyond the village the land stretches away as far as the eye can see, but Aslan's life is hemmed in by poverty and tradition.
One glimmer of hope comes when the school - following a regional decree - begins to organise a version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but Aslan is disappointed when a rival boy takes the role of the prince opposite Ayse (Ezgi Ergin), a girl he fancies. In a sulk, Aslan begins to skip school and even goes to see his teacher in the hope of snatching back the role, but to no avail. Things only begin to look up when he goes to a dogfight. In a long and gruesome scene, the dogs fight until one is apparently killed. Aslan hangs about afterwards and notices the canine Sivas, a Kangal sheep dog, is still breathing. He cares for the wounded dog, building him a temporary shelter, and later, with the help of his brother, takes him home. Aslan appears to have finally found the missing piece to his own character.
The boy's bond with the dog elevates him in his own and everyone else's estimation. His father and brother take notices of him more, as do his school friends and finally Ayse. When his father tries to sell the dog, Aslan is enraged and his no holds barred tantrum make the adults back off. The boy is becoming a man. His own obvious affection for the dog is similar to that shown by Billy in Ken Loach's Kes (1969). Herein though lies the contradiction that will give the rest of the film its dramatic tension. As Sivas grows stronger, Aslan agrees for him to return to dogfighting, and the village elder (Muttalip Mujdeci) takes them to what he calls "a national championship" of the sport near Ankara, evading police roadblocks in the process. The pride and esteem he finally attains comes at the price of harming the dog, and taking away the one creature with which he has a proper relationship.
The dogfights, simulated or otherwise, are gruesome to behold and will for many be a major stumbling block. At the Venice press screening there were walk-outs and the credits were greeted by some loud protests. Yet dogfighting is a part of the lives for these communities and censoring that would essentially mean refusing to look at a part of the world. A wry humour is also in evidence, not only the universal experiences of childhood friendships and jealousies, but also in the hypocrisy of the adult world, the self-serving elder and the teacher who from the sound of his television is obviously watching a porno when Aslan comes round. Despite the ferocious violence of the dogfighting and the stark poverty, a surprising humanity underpins Sivas, making the film more of a traditional boy-and-his-dog tale than it initially appears.
From Venice 2014
jo-Ann Titmarsh is impressed by Kaan Müjdeci’s Sivas.
Celebrating its centennial year this year, Turkish film has already gifted us a Cannes winner with Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Winter Sleep whilst here in Venice Kaan Müjdeci’s Sivas snarls onto the screen and into competition.
Like many of its predecessors set in rural Anatolia, Sivas portrays a sense of the wildness and beauty of the region, but also its bleak isolation and stultifying benighted environment. The story is of one boy and his dog, but this is no Lassie Come Home.
The boy in question is Aslan (Doğan Izci) who fights and argues with his male classmates and has his heart set on a pretty girl in his class. He’s a bit of an outcast and is often seen stomping home alone. Home is a decrepit farmstead that he shares with his much older brother Şahin (Ozan Celik) and his parents. When Aslan is done with school, it’s off to work with the animals. When an ancient horse is no longer of any use, it’s shooed away, left to fend for itself in the fields, and it is Aslan’s job to dispose of it.
Aslan and Şahin attend a dogfight, where the local kid’s dog savages its opponent, the titular Sivas. When the dog is left to die, Aslan stays behind and takes charge of this huge and magnificent animal. The audience breathes a sigh of relief but it’s soon apparent that Aslan wants Sivas to continue fighting, starting with a revenge match against his school buddy’s dog. The scene is significant for it looks like the final dogfight in miniature, the difference between this fight and the other is that only men are present in the latter. When Sivas becomes champion, Aslan wants to retire him, and at this point the corrupt village elder lets Aslan know that if a dog wants his mash he has to fight other dogs. Aslan, who has so childishly and fiercely protected and championed his dog, is about to discover that ownership and loyalty mean nothing in the adult world.
This film is bound to suffer at the hands of critics and animal lovers, enraged by the cruelty to animals depicted on screen (although no animal dies). But what Müjdeci portrays, and what should shock us more, is human cruelty. Nobody in this film has an ordinary conversation; all we have are barked orders and snapping, vicious retorts. There is one moment of tenderness between Aslan and his mother, but not before a shouting match has transpired. In fact, the mother is barely seen and when she is it is to cook or to bathe her son, and no other woman has a role in this film. Sivas’ world is a man’s world, and Müjdeci shows us what an angry, aggressive and corrupt world it is. Doğan Izci dominates proceedings with a powerful performance far beyond his years, brilliantly rendering a boy on the cusp of leaving innocence behind ad becoming part of this adult masculine world.
Venice Film Fest: 'Sivas', dog-fighting in rural Anatolia
Mujdeci's debut an unusual take on village life
04 SEPTEMBER, 2014
Kaan Mujdeci's debut film 'Sivas' takes viewers into the cruel world of dog-fighting in rural Turkey.
In competition at the 71st Venice Film Festival, some journalists attending the special screening for the press on Wednesday protested at the raw images of violence, though producers deny that any animals were harmed during the making of the film. The setting is a village in a rural area of Turkey, where there is a tradition of holding fighting matches between enormous dogs of the local Kangal breed. After watching one of these 'fights-to-the-death' with his father, the young boy Aslan refuses to abandon a dog that seems to have died, named 'Sivas'.
The dog recovers and becomes the friend and pride of the toy-less boy. This very friendship then enables the dog to return to fighting and to win. Mujdeci, who was born in Ankara but moved to Berlin to study film directing, had only made the short film 'Day of German Unity' - shown at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival and later snatched up by numerous television channels - prior to this work. The director said that 'Sivas' is ''a film that is self-created, slowly, as it happens. You could call it a film with an experimental film grammar.'' ''However,'' he added, ''my aim is not experimentation as an end to itself. It is an attempt to reflect the liveliness of life in rural Anatolia as truthfully as possible. The stereotypical image one has of life in the country in Turkey -or anywhere else in the world - is of a static environment, one that never changes and opposite to what happens in the city. The 'artificial' images in films depicting village life typically show sleepy settlements and a character that can't wait to leave.'' With this film, Mujdeci ''wanted to avoid the cliche.
'Sivas' is a film on the character and life in constant evolution of a boy and a small village. I wanted to keep the stakes low: there is no epic love story, epic battle, or the other usual things we see in films depicting rural life in Anatolia. 'Sivas' does not capture - it lets its main characters, played by non-professional actors, and its natural environment develop together freely, while remaining firmly anchored to its main story-line.'' The film cast - including Doğan Doğan İzci, Ezgi Ergin, Hasan Özdemir, and Furkan Uyar - has all non-professional actors, the director noted. ''I wanted the setting to be the main character,'' he said, ''and that the real environment of Anatolian villages not be contaminated.''(ANSAmed).
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