5 reviews
The passing of Kemal Tahir's wife, Semiha Hanim, and Halit Refig's own mother left a profound mark on the director's psyche. It was from this wellspring of grief and contemplation that the idea for "Hanim" (The Lady), a film steeped in the themes of ageing and solitude, took shape. Refig, also influenced by his wife's love for cats, her passion for music, and the isolation she experienced within her own world, decided that the film would be anchored by the presence of Yildiz Kenter, whom he had learned had suffered an accident from a television broadcast. Unfortunately, upon hearing Kenter's name, the producers were less than enthusiastic, and the film's production was delayed for many years.
In 1988, shortly before filming commenced, Esref Kolçak fractured his toes in a traffic accident, yet he bravely carried on with his role in the film, his injury becoming an unexpected part of his character's physicality.
Just last year, I had the opportunity to chat with Cem Özer backstage before a theatrical performance. When I mentioned that I had acquired the DVD of "Hanim," he was incredulous, remarking, "I didn't think anyone remembered that film anymore."
Indeed, Turkish cinema is a repository of countless forgotten films and untold stories. Some films tell compelling tales, while others, like "Hanim," are stories in and of themselves.
With music by the legendary Cemal Resit Rey and Adnan Saygun, and cinematography by Çetin Tunca, "Hanim" stands as one of those exceptional and overlooked cinematic treasures.
The film's narrative unfolds at a leisurely pace, allowing the viewer to fully immerse themselves in the world of Olcay Hanim (Yildiz Kenter), an elderly woman grappling with the specter of mortality and the profound loneliness that accompanies it. Her only solace is her beloved cat, Hanim, a feline companion who becomes a symbol of both companionship and the fear of abandonment.
Kenter's performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. She imbues Olcay Hanim with a quiet dignity and resilience, even as she confronts her deepest fears and anxieties. Her interactions with the other characters, including the enigmatic gardener (Esref Kolçak) and the young woman who enters her life (Fatos Sezer), are imbued with a delicate poignancy that speaks to the universal human experience of connection and loss.
The film's visual style is equally evocative, with its muted color palette and carefully composed frames creating a sense of melancholic beauty. The cinematography captures the faded grandeur of Olcay Hanim's world, while also hinting at the vibrancy of life that still flickers beneath the surface. The music, a blend of classical and traditional Turkish melodies, adds another layer of emotional depth to the film.
"Hanim" is a film that lingers in the memory long after the final credits roll. It's a testament to the power of cinema to explore the complexities of the human condition with grace, sensitivity, and profound empathy. It's a film that deserves to be rediscovered and celebrated, a reminder that even in the face of loss and loneliness, there is always the possibility of hope and connection.
In 1988, shortly before filming commenced, Esref Kolçak fractured his toes in a traffic accident, yet he bravely carried on with his role in the film, his injury becoming an unexpected part of his character's physicality.
Just last year, I had the opportunity to chat with Cem Özer backstage before a theatrical performance. When I mentioned that I had acquired the DVD of "Hanim," he was incredulous, remarking, "I didn't think anyone remembered that film anymore."
Indeed, Turkish cinema is a repository of countless forgotten films and untold stories. Some films tell compelling tales, while others, like "Hanim," are stories in and of themselves.
With music by the legendary Cemal Resit Rey and Adnan Saygun, and cinematography by Çetin Tunca, "Hanim" stands as one of those exceptional and overlooked cinematic treasures.
The film's narrative unfolds at a leisurely pace, allowing the viewer to fully immerse themselves in the world of Olcay Hanim (Yildiz Kenter), an elderly woman grappling with the specter of mortality and the profound loneliness that accompanies it. Her only solace is her beloved cat, Hanim, a feline companion who becomes a symbol of both companionship and the fear of abandonment.
Kenter's performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. She imbues Olcay Hanim with a quiet dignity and resilience, even as she confronts her deepest fears and anxieties. Her interactions with the other characters, including the enigmatic gardener (Esref Kolçak) and the young woman who enters her life (Fatos Sezer), are imbued with a delicate poignancy that speaks to the universal human experience of connection and loss.
The film's visual style is equally evocative, with its muted color palette and carefully composed frames creating a sense of melancholic beauty. The cinematography captures the faded grandeur of Olcay Hanim's world, while also hinting at the vibrancy of life that still flickers beneath the surface. The music, a blend of classical and traditional Turkish melodies, adds another layer of emotional depth to the film.
"Hanim" is a film that lingers in the memory long after the final credits roll. It's a testament to the power of cinema to explore the complexities of the human condition with grace, sensitivity, and profound empathy. It's a film that deserves to be rediscovered and celebrated, a reminder that even in the face of loss and loneliness, there is always the possibility of hope and connection.
- yusufpiskin
- Aug 8, 2024
- Permalink
- CursedChico
- Jun 21, 2024
- Permalink
This film is like a short story you read on a quiet and calm autumn day. You understand what the film promises from the first minute, and it delivers what it promises. I think it has aged well. This movie can be a good accompaniment when you feel in the same mood.
I'm not sure what else I should say, so... I would have liked Olcay and Necip to talk more, but this is not a big shortcoming in my opinion, in fact it makes one's heart sink even more at the end of the movie. In conclusion, I liked it and as I said, I will watch it again sometime. (Why is it so difficult to reach the required characters)
I'm not sure what else I should say, so... I would have liked Olcay and Necip to talk more, but this is not a big shortcoming in my opinion, in fact it makes one's heart sink even more at the end of the movie. In conclusion, I liked it and as I said, I will watch it again sometime. (Why is it so difficult to reach the required characters)
- zehraeser-14898
- Jul 29, 2024
- Permalink
- kaplansehmus
- Jan 9, 2021
- Permalink
A masterpiece that I watched with tears in my eyes, where Yildiz Kenter's performance reached extraordinary heights. The emotions it conveys to the audience, its philosophical approaches, and the depiction of Istanbul as if it were taken straight out of postcards make this film truly unique. The film beautifully captures the essence of human emotions and relationships, drawing the viewer into a world that is both intimate and universal. Kenter's portrayal of the protagonist is nothing short of mesmerizing, bringing depth and nuance to the character. Each scene is meticulously crafted, with stunning visuals that highlight the cultural and historical richness of Istanbul. The film's narrative is both poignant and thought-provoking, exploring themes of love, loss, and resilience. The dialogue is eloquent and reflective, adding layers of meaning to the story. The soundtrack complements the film's atmosphere perfectly, enhancing the emotional impact of each moment. 'Hanim' is not just a film; it's an experience that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. It stands as a testament to the power of cinema to touch the heart and soul.