İlker Çatak, who was born in Berlin to Turkish parents, is back at the Berlinale with “Yellow Letters,” which unlike his last film — the Oscar-nominated Germany-set “The Teachers’ Lounge” — takes place entirely amid political repression in Turkey, even though it was shot in Germany.
The timely political drama stars Turkish actors Özgü Namal (Derya) and Tansu Biçer (Aziz) as an artists’ couple whose marriage implodes after they lose their jobs due to their political views.
Çatak speaks to Variety about how political repression in the arts is not just a Turkish problem these days.
What drew you to this story in which authoritarian political pressure disrupts a marriage?
I’ve always wanted to make a film about marriage. I’m living in a marriage with a painter — who happens also to be my co writer on this film — and we were always fascinated by films such as “Marriage Story” [by Noah Baumbach] where you have this sort of tension between lovers that is, on the one hand, very tender and very loving. And on the other hand, absolutely harsh. Then there were the political aspects to this film. In 2019 I was in Istanbul where I had heard about the mass [political] layoffs happening prior to to then. But that day, I was sitting with with a few actor friends in a cafe, and one of the actors says: “I got this letter, and they laid me off because I smoked a cigarette backstage.” And I said: “What?” And he said: “Yes, that’s what the letter said.” I talked about this with my wife, and we started reading about these layoffs and what they did to families. Almost everyone is brought to a point where you are faced with selling off your ideals. And we thought: this is a perfect backdrop to tell a marriage story.
It’s interesting that Derya, the actress, sells out by working on a Turkish soap opera. Was that a comment on Turkish TV networks?
It’s not just a Turkish issue. You have it in the U.S. too. Look at what happened to Jimmy Kimmel! Look at what happened to the diversity announcement that Amazon put out a couple years ago, and then Trump came back, and all of a sudden: poof! As if it never happened. I would be hesitant to get into business with these types of networks that are good friends with administrations. Because I would be part of their agenda, right? As an artist, I don’t think it matters if you’re in the U.S. or in Turkey, or wherever. You have to ask yourself: “Who am I going to bed with here?” “Who is this person or his institution? And who are they tied to?” So that is something I think we as artists have to ask ourselves. And this question is getting louder and louder.
It almost seems as though you are taking Aziz’s side. On the one hand you have Aziz, the earnest artist with a big ego. On the other Derya, who is more pragmatic. Is that how you see it?
To be honest, I don’t take sides. I think I was hoping that Derya’s struggle and her decision would become clear. That’s my job, first and foremost. Not to judge, but to make things comprehensible. Of course, I would love to be on Aziz’s side. But I also see that it’s a very restricted point of view that is a bit, outdated. Maybe call it dreamy. It’s not how you provide for a family. And, first and foremost, you have to provide for a family. The big thing about this film is that I don’t want to judge anyone who works for, you know, Fox Networks, or whatever. I’m sure they have their reasons. But I want to question this behaviour because you need to have a spine. You need to know where you stand. I think that’s important as an artist.
Courtesy Berlinale
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.