previously published on Cineuropa
Rûken Tekeş
might not be a filmmaker by education, but her work qualifies her to
be one by trade. After the award-winning and EFA-nominated short
documentary The Circle (2016), she is back with her feature
debut Aether. After its world premiere at Visions du Réel
and screenings at the Istanbul Film Festival, Documentarist Istanbul
Documentary Days and Taormina Film Festival, it is running for awards
in the Balkan Dox section of DokuFest in Prizren, Kosovo, while
further festival exposure is in sight.
Ilisu Hydroelectric Dam
is a Turkish state project that is supposed to provide electricity
and economic stability to the country, as well as greater influence
in the neighbouring Middle Eastern area. However, its construction
will result in the creation of an artificial lake that will flood the
region, which is under UNESCO protection due to its ecological,
historical and cultural significance as the home of numerous species,
of around 80,000 people, and of the ancient Mesopotamian cave city of
Hasankeyf. Located in the eastern part of the country, in the valley
of the Tigris river, it is largely populated by a Kurdish minority,
which might explain why the state is ignoring the orders of UNESCO.
Tekeş and her crew took
a 21-day trip around the area, visiting the settlements, the
historical and natural sites that will soon be gone under water. The
result of it is this film, devoid of any comprehensible dialogue,
additional context or explanation. Divided in 21 chapters
representing 21 days, all of its footage, which focuses more on the
landscape than on the people living there, is edited in strictly
chronological order. The only additional frame that could be used for
interpretation is the ancient Greek philosophical theory of the four
elements that the world is made of (earth, fire, air and water), with
aether (which gives the film its title) being the invisible matter
that imbues it all — the essence of things. Tekeş' mission is,
obviously, to capture it.
Aether is a
visually stunning film due to its landscapes caught through the
lenses of four cinematographers (Ute Freund, Deniz
Eyuboglu, Merle Yothe and Andres
Lizana Prado), each representing one of the ancient
elements. Meanwhile, its emotional dimension is usually dictated by
its audio component — either by the sound design, handled by Paolo
Segat and Roberta D'Angelo, or by Diler
Ozer and Metehan Dada's original score,
consisting of different kinds of droning sounds recorded on a variety
of classical and electrical instruments. Because it was apparently
filmed without any kind of shooting plan and edited instinctively by
Marco Spoletini and Tekeş herself, the downside of
the project is that it is not always clear how, why and on what merit
some of the footage ended up in the final version of the film, while
some of it did not. Nevertheless, as a personal farewell letter to
the essence of the world that is about to be lost, and as a reminder
that nature will survive all countries, states, people and even
mankind, the film serves it purpose completely.
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