I have never really been a “film guy” in the traditional sense, but growing up in a small town where there wasn’t much else to do, film festivals were one of the few events that always brought people together—and one of the few things I genuinely looked forward to. Over the years, I even had the chance to help organize a couple.
After moving to Istanbul, life quickly became full of other distractions, and somewhere along the way, I lost touch with that part of myself.
This year, though, I finally decided to reconnect with it, and attending the 44th Istanbul Film Festival turned out to be exactly what I needed.
I saw films across three different venues, each with its own character and atmosphere, and I wanted to share some reflections on four movies that stayed with me the most. (All the screenings were in their original languages, with both English and Turkish subtitles, which made the experience even more accessible and authentic.)
The first film I attended was at the Pera Museum Auditorium. I had visited the museum before but had no idea they also hosted films. The venue itself was intimate and elegant, setting the perfect tone for Monsieur Aznavour, a biopic about Charles Aznavour—one of the great voices of French music and a personal favorite of mine thanks to my father’s influence.
The film traced Aznavour’s journey from a struggling immigrant boy to one of France’s most iconic singers, weaving in the personal sacrifices he made along the way. Watching it, especially in French, made the story feel even closer. It was not just a biography; it was a portrait of resilience, ambition, and the quiet costs of fame. I loved every moment of it.
The second film, To a Land Unknown, brought me across the city to Kadıköy Cinema. I had only been there once before, to watch Barbie, so the atmosphere this time was completely different.
The story follows two Palestinian cousins, Chatila and Reda, trying to make their way from Greece into what they see as “real Europe,” and how their desperation slowly pulls them into darker and darker choices.
I expected the film to address the Palestinian-Israeli conflict directly, but it did not. Instead, it focused on a much more personal, almost universal struggle of displacement, survival, and loss. The characters felt real, flawed, and human. Their internal conflicts were palpable, and it was impossible not to get drawn into the moral grey zones they found themselves navigating.
Since the film was mostly in Arabic and English—two languages I speak—I started to notice a bit of a pattern forming in the movies I was drawn to this year.
And just to break that pattern, the third movie I watched was the Vietnamese film Don’t Cry, Butterfly at Paribu Cineverse in Nautilus AVM—a completely different kind of venue compared to the first two.
Whereas the previous locations had this charming, old-school feel, this one couldn’t have felt more commercial. Bright lights, escalators, and the hum of a shopping mall outside the theater doors made it a stark contrast.
I found out about the movie through a recommendation on Yabangee’s Instagram page.
The film caught my interest right away. It was very different from the first two—not just in language and location, but also in the way it told its story. The narration style was unique, and unlike the earlier films where the main characters were men, this one was almost entirely led by women.
Interestingly, the main character’s husband—whose actions set off the chain of events and who appears frequently throughout the film—never says a single word.
The story leans heavily into local folklore and superstitions, weaving together the experiences of a mother and daughter whose lives are forever changed by the husband’s betrayal.
While I can’t say I loved the movie (magical realism has never really been my thing), I still appreciated what it was trying to do and found it fascinating to get a glimpse into Vietnamese society and beliefs through its lens.
The last film I want to talk about also came from Southeast Asia—this time from Malaysia. Its name is Pavane for an Infant, and while it had a lot in common with the previous film – unwanted children, scammy shamans, and women pushing back against outdated traditions and taboos – it still felt completely different.
The story follows Lai Sum, a woman who works at a “baby hatch,” an establishment where women who have just given birth can anonymously leave their unwanted babies for adoption. They are given exactly thirty seconds to change their minds and take the baby back, with a big timer counting down above the hatch.
I thought the concept was really interesting, and although the pacing felt a bit rushed toward the end, the execution overall was nicely handled.
As the film progresses, we learn more about Lai Sum, her motivations, and the unique bond she develops with Siew Man, a teenager who is going through many of the same struggles she once faced herself.
The Istanbul Film Festival remains one of Istanbul’s most exciting yearly events and a must-attend spectacle for film enthusiasts. You can keep up with all their upcoming announcements and insights via their official website and Instagram.
Featured image by Mete Kaan Özdelik, courtesy of IKSV.
