“A truly wonderful, offbeat experiment that says more about the human condition than many recent works.”
Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional – this adage has been repeated consistently by those who intend to emphasize the virtue of remaining young at heart, even when the body has grown frail. Few recent films underline this point more than Faruk, in which director Asli Özge returns to her native Türkiye from a sojourn directing a few projects in Germany to craft this delightful and subversive story. The film, which is a fascinating blend of fiction and documentary, follows a few weeks in the life of its titular character, an elderly man living in Istanbul who is informed that the building in which he has spent most of his adult life is set to be demolished. This is the catalyst for a minor existential crisis, and he undergoes a voyage of self-discovery while coming to terms with the fact that he may need to find a new home if the efforts of the community to prevent the demolition fall through. A wonderfully funny and heartfelt film that blends humour and pathos in creative and lovable ways, Faruk is an absolute delight. A small film that manages to be genuinely heartfelt, but also intelligent in how it navigates the social and cultural changes present in contemporary Türkiye, the story paints a vibrant portrait of the nation through the perspective of someone who has been part of it for nearly a century, and who intends to make every moment count, especially with the knowledge that time may be more limited than he initially expected.
Without any doubt the heart of this film is the titular character, played by the director’s own father, Faruk Özge, who turns out to be an unexpectedly wonderful protagonist. Playing a fictional version of himself, Faruk is a 95-year-old retiree who thought his final years would be spent in peaceful solitude, his only interactions being with those he deemed necessary. Rather, he is plunged into a small crisis as a result of the impending change in his domestic situation, which makes for a truly funny but extremely heartfelt story. Faruk, who had not acted previously, is a surprising choice to lead this film, and it is entirely possible that it was something of a happy accident that he ended up being the focus of what was clearly trying to be a more sobering depiction of the socio-cultural situation in Istanbul. Shifting the focus away from the more sombre material, and instead filtering it through the perspective of someone who was witnessing it first-hand, the film manages to be far more effective. Not only is it a wonderful tribute from a daughter to her father, but it is also a genuinely funny film, and Faruk himself is intent on showcasing his own sense of humour – with memorable scenes aplenty, like when he gleefully waves his mental fitness test (which he passed with flying colours) at the other occupant of the doctor’s waiting room, or his joyful dancing that occurs sporadically throughout the film. Constructed as an account of our protagonist’s daily routine, Faruk oscillates between a reflection on society as seen through his eyes, and a series of comedic meanderings in which his unconventional wisdom interweaves with vaguely slapstick scenarios that the director makes sure to emphasize, even if it is clear several are purposefully manufactured as part of the film’s efforts to blur fiction and reality.
However charming it may be to find one of the year’s most surprisingly moving performances coming from a newcomer who likely never positioned himself as a film star, Faruk is still a film with broader intentions. On the surface it is a document of the present moment in Turkish culture, with commentary on its social, economic and even political situation sitting at the foundation of the film. There is certainly a strong documentary to be made with this material – but Özge decides to look at it all through a more resonant lens. Faruk centres around many subjects, most notably that of ageing and mortality, which is far more resonant than the sometimes niche concept of the housing situation in contemporary Istanbul. In choosing to look at life’s greatest inevitability, Özge crafts a funny, honest and beautiful account of the human condition. She presents us with fragments of the daily life of a man who knows that he is in his final chapter, but is wholeheartedly committed to living every day to its fullest. This is combined with the subject of memory – as easy as it may be to view this film as a comedic story of a grouchy elderly curmudgeon battling against forces that want him to leave his residence, the film focuses on the very personal connection we have to our homes. History lingers in these buildings, which are monuments to the people who passed through their doors over the years. For nearly a hundred years, Faruk has walked these streets, and the film focuses on his frequent recollections of the past, the memories being all he has left. To take such a poignant subject and reconfigure it into an endearing and frequently funny film takes immense skill, and both the director and her father are dedicated to telling this beautiful story with heart and humour.
Despite its simple appearance, Faruk carries a lot more meaning than we would initially expect. The director’s exact intention when first conceiving the film is not entirely clear, but obviously it flourished into something much more interesting as she developed on its major themes. The key to the success of this story was a strong blend of candour and charm, which abound throughout the film. The director makes sure that every component, whether its social or cultural commentary or its more comedic moments, circles back to the underlying themes, which are primarily to do with showcasing the simple poetry of everyday life. Some elements may not be as successful as others – the occasional insertion of a camera crew pulls us out of the film, and while this was purposefully done to demonstrate the metafictional nature of the project, it doesn’t succeed as fully as we might expect, especially since the story being told is strong enough to stand on its own. However, the shortcomings are slight and barely factor into the overall experience. Özge crafts a story that beautifully examines the boundaries between tradition and modernity, doing so in vibrant and captivating detail. In the process, she has created a truly wonderful, offbeat experiment that says more about the human condition than many recent works, becoming one of the year’s most endearing, life-affirming gems.
Image copyright: Emre Erkmen