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Haider Tastan

In our 2019 hack feature, And then we danced, Swedish writer-director Levan Akin’s study of gay self-discovery and defiant sexuality against the strict sexual rules of a traditional Georgian dance company. His new film, with a warm humanitarian bent, Transit, explores another story of queer identity in a queer setting, this time using a couple’s individual journey to advocate for transgender acceptance. Observed in meticulous detail and imbued with a vibrant sense of place, this narrative drama takes time to tie together its central triangle but does so with a flexibility and restraint that amplifies the emotional rewards of its beautiful, open-ended conclusion.

This sense of place applies to two main spaces as well as the sprawling space between them. The film begins in Batumi, on the rocky Black Sea coast of southwest Georgia, then moves to the crowded streets and dilapidated apartment complexes of Istanbul’s densely populated, low-income neighborhoods, where the title extends beyond geographical borders to depict shifting perspectives that cross borders. Divisions between generations and cultures. Akin’s family has roots in both countries, where he spent his childhood summers. He was born in Sweden of Georgian descent while his parents were born in Türkiye.

After its premiere as the opening film in the Panorama section in Berlin, Transit It is being released in major territories by Mubi and should further raise Akin’s reputation, especially with gay audiences. Although it is not stated in the film, the Erdogan government’s anti-LGBTQ agenda adds weight to the drama and its message of empathy.

The story begins with an arrogant young man, Ache (Lukas Kankava), living discontentedly with his arrogant married half-brother, Zaza (Levan Bokhorishvili), in a shack by the sea. When Leah (Mzia Araboli), a former history teacher at Zaza’s school, comes looking for information about her missing niece, Ashi recognizes Tekla’s name as one of the trans sex workers who had been living in another shack down the beach until they were kicked out. Tekla is believed to have moved to Istanbul and when Leah says she will travel to the Turkish city to search for her niece, the troubled 25-year-old makes his way to accompany her.

A stern woman in her seventies who fortifies herself with large gulps of a bottle of strong Georgian grappa known as “chacha,” Leah bluntly tells Achi that she will never be a mother to him. The medications and ambulance equipment in her home, along with the sadness evident beneath her sour demeanor, suggest that her sister has recently died and Leah may have promised to find her missing daughter. This endeavor gives purpose to a life the retiree considers well lived.

Veteran actress Araboli’s stunning performance expertly keeps her rugged features alive while making it clear through subtle means that her trip to Istanbul is one of atonement. There’s a quietly shattering moment late in the action when Achi asks what she would say to Takla if she found her. Leah responds with poignant candor, acknowledging the ways in which she and her sister have failed the young trans woman by allowing the villagers’ disapproval to outweigh their love for her.

Cinematographer Lisabe Friedel emphasizes the physical contrast between the Georgian opening and the main body of the drama in Istanbul with every bustling image of the city, particularly a stunning long shot of a built-up section intersecting two elevated highways. This shift is also seen in the transition from Georgian folk music to Turkish folk music.

Anyone who has visited Istanbul or watched the fascinating 2017 documentary KiddieHe knows about the huge number of street cats in Istanbul. But there’s a kind of poetic magic to the constant appearances here of wandering cats, some barely getting a glance from Lia and Achi and others being affectionately petted.

This human-animal connection is reflected in Lia’s gradual softness toward her unstable young companion, despite her best efforts to abandon him early on. But a deeper transformation occurs when they encounter Efrem (Deniz Domanel), a transgender former sex worker in his 30s, who recently earned a law degree from Istanbul University and volunteers with an NGO fighting for transgender rights.

Akin elegantly traces Evrim’s story alongside that of Lia and Achi over a long period of time, bringing them into close proximity several times before they actually meet. The moment when the camera pans from Lia and Achi on a ferry to capture Efrem staring out from the upper deck is a particularly beautiful moment. Some viewers may get impatient waiting for the inevitable crossover where their paths cross or want more scenes of them together. But Akin’s careful narration moves into its own engaging rhythms, effectively building three powerful character studies and intertwining them in emotionally moving ways.

We experience Ephrem’s unjustified faith in her employed boyfriend (Soner Yalcin) and her gentle flirtation with pirate taxi driver Omer (Ziya Sudancikmaz), who unabashedly offers a taste of mutual romance. We witness the great red tape, expense and hostile attitude involved in her efforts to obtain female identity papers. We notice her interactions within the transgender sisterhood, in addition to her intervention when the police arrest Izzat (Benjamin Deger).)one of two young street kids seen wandering the streets or rushing for tips as an impromptu guide for Lia and Achi.

Ephraim’s entry into the main event brings hope for Leah, along with painful frustration when they find traces of the elusive Thekla. The film excels at charting the ways in which the story’s human connections take on a new tenderness in Lia, along with greater sensitivity and openness in Achi. Two dance scenes represent something of connective tissue from Akin’s previous filmography, and play an important role in the constant softening of Lia’s appearance.

While Araboli provides the solid narrative center, all of the performances feel lived-in and natural, including the sex workers who often aren’t able to offer much help in locating Thecla but do show the courtesy of the older woman searching for her niece, And serve her. Her tea and at one point admitted that no family member ever came looking for them.

Istanbul is described as a place where people come to disappear. but Transit He uses precise brushstrokes to also depict the city as a place where transformative encounters can lead to change and increased self-knowledge.