Writer’s and director’s Belkıs Bayrak’s Turkish-Kosovan feature debut – Gülizar, which had its world premiere at the San Sebastian IFF, takes on a psychological drama in a socially suffocating atmosphere – yet taking place in virtually complete silence.  

The act of violence to which the title protagonist is subjected, or rather its processing and digestion, takes place with the silence, focusing on the process of the heroine’s journey.   

Gülizar (played by Ecem Uzun), a twenty-something Turkish woman, was raised in a home with a solid patriarchal-conservative foundation, ruled by traditional gender roles and the social expectations that accompany them. A vision of the promise of a new life seems to loom on the event horizon with her impending wedding to her fiancé Emre (Bekir Behre).   

During Gülizar’s monotonous expedition to her chosen one, the vision of the Kosovar dream gives way to scenes harnessed from the depths of nightmares – putting the focus solely on the auditory realm, however, leaving viewers without the added burden of violent imagery. Bayrak’s sensitive direction (if we can speak of such in the perspective of the caliber of sexual assault) does not show anything graphic – it seems, in fact, that it is not necessary.  

Although we can only “hear the whole incident from the screen,” it echoes and afterimages in the tense preparations for Gülizar’s nuptials (very interestingly portrayed Turkish ceremonial rites, by the way). This tension, between the internal emotional state and the external pressures to proceed with the wedding preparations, play against each other, making the atmosphere of tension increasingly suffocating, steamy, and even claustrophobic, like the traumatic space of an earlier act of violence. 

The strength of the film seems to be the way it layers the trauma – not only related to the attack itself, but also to the cultural silence that surrounds it. While the assault is a key plot point, the film focuses on its aftermath – abandoning the spectacle of violence and instead placing the focus on a psychological analysis of the main character’s portrayal. Bayrak portrays trauma as both an internal and social experience, in a pressurized world, with social norms only exacerbating this suffering.   

On the other hand, the director’s portrayal of the support system for victims of violence through the humanization of supporting characters, such as that of her fiancé, epitomize a healthy, and certainly not easy, support system.  

While Gülizar is a subtle exploration of the complexity of trauma and its resonance in the protagonist’s life, this non-accelerated healing process is a depiction of both coping strategies and the effect of social pressures that prioritize conformity over individual well-being.   

This approach to telling the story of sexual violence seems to be crucial, providing itself with a space to talk about support, justice, and healing. Gülizar is a masterfully realized debut that is not afraid to look straight in the eye, asking us to draw the contours of hope ourselves.

Karolina Zdunek