A flinty character study of a self-sacrificing Turkish woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Ayse has the emotional rawness and socially engaged bite of a vintage neorealist drama. Jarringly bleak at times, writer-director Necmi Sancak’s debut feature risks pandering to that relentless brand of misery porn that appeals chiefly to masochistic film critics and festival programmers. But if your idea of a fun night out involves watching a severely depressed woman weeping into a giant bin full of used adult nappies, then boy are you in for a treat.
In fairness, Sancak and his fine cast keep viewers engaged with fiercely committed performances, harrowing thriller-like plot twists, and an unsentimental empathy for marginalised outsiders that John Steinbeck would recognise. Ayse world premiered at Anatolia Film Festival last month, where it won four of the main prizes, and makes its international debut in Cairo this week.
The film’s 47-year-old heroine Ayse (Binnur Kaya) lives on the rural fringes of Istanbul, in a poor village where the city’s creeping gentrification is gradually colonising the landscape. By day, she works a poorly paid job as a petrol station attendant. The rest of the time, she is sole carer to her disabled brother Ridvan (Ridvan Sancak), who has Down Syndrome and appears to be severely autistic. With her father dying in hospital, Ayse has dwindling family connections, very little money, no time for a life partner, and no reliable safety net of supportive friends. She is also a nervy chain-smoker with a cigarette or vape constantly jammed to her lips, which may help explain the film’s yellowing, grimy, tobacco-stained colour palette.
Although Ayse badly needs help, most of the people in her orbit make one-way demands on her. Her callow young co-worker Sinan (Orkuncan Izan) and his self-absorbed fiancee Zehra (Nazlican Demir) pressure her to play an official role at their upcoming wedding, using emotional blackmail when she seems wary due to Ridvan’s high needs. Shy truck driver Recep (Ali Seçkiner Alici) clumsily attempts to flirt with her, bringing her gifts from his regular road trips to Bulgaria, and sharing the melancholy confession that he has never been in love. But Ayse politely deflects his advances, possibly because she feels no attraction, but equally likely because she fears caring for her brother will scupper any romantic happy ending.
Kaya, who also co-wrote the screenplay, gives a compellingly intense performance as Ayse. Front and centre for almost every scene, usually in unforgiving close-up, her highly expressive face radiates thinly veiled desperation even in long, free-wheeling, often wordless takes. Drained and haunted, she looks like a live-action recreation of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. In the twist-heavy final act, with her nerves at breaking point, she starts to weigh up extreme solutions that nudge the film in a more tragic direction. No spoilers, but it is a testament to Kaya’s acting prowess that she maintains a degree of audience empathy at all times.
Ayse is a personal passion project for Sancak, who based elements of the story on his own family. Ridvan is played by his real cousin, while the title character is based on another cousin, Ridvan’s sister Fatma, who earns a dedication at the end of the film. At his Cairo premiere, the director was keen not to draw any deeper parallels, insisting the screenplay is a purely fictional speculation about how this kind of stressed sibling duo might react under different circumstances, with no support network and no access to specialist care. The real Ridvan, Sancak assured the festival audience, is a cheerful soul who took to his new acting hobby with relish. Which is welcome hint of consoling sweetness after such a bracingly bitter film.
Director: Necmi Sancak
Screenplay: Necmi Sancak, Binnur Kaya, Ahmet Sancak
Cast: Binnur Kaya, Ridvan Sancak, Nazlican Demir, Ali Seçkiner Alici
Cinematography: Meryem Yavuz
Editing: Osman Bayraktaroglu
Producers: Ahmet Sancak, Necmi Sancak
Venue: Cairo International Film Festival (International Competition)
In Turkish
76 minutes
