The cinematic response to populism and incipient fascism worldwide over the last decade hasn’t fully mobilised – but this broadside on the authoritarian leanings of Erdoğan’sTurkeydoesn’t pull its punches. (Unsurprisingly, it’s produced by a UK-based team.) It’s a shame then that, lambasting the effects on education, policing, freedom of expression and the demonisation of minorities, director Serkan Nihat is wedded to a hectoring, didactic method that dulls the audience’s engagement, instead of firing us up.
Nihat opts for the fragmented, multi-character narrative beloved of big-picture global film-makers in the 00s (think 21 Grams or Babel). Academic Hakan (Denis Ostier) becomes a fugitive after his pro-democracy lecture is invaded by regime goons. Hakan is later assaulted by vengeful cop Yilmaz (Murat Zeynilli), his one-time school bully, and then hooks up with another policeman, Mehmet (Umit Ulgen), also on the lam after a crisis of conscience about the politicisation of his work. The pair hole up in a safehouse full of migrants being chivvied to Greece by people-smuggler Sahab (Doga Celik). Meanwhile, Hakan and Mehmet’s wives find themselves targeted by the security forces in a clampdown.
This carousel of woe certainly conveys the scale of the damage inflicted by Erdoğan. But by dovetailing both the civil society elements with the forced migration narrative that is arguably a secondary consequence, Exodus bites off more than it can chew. The haste to make big statements on every front makes the characters more representative than actually alive. And even the film’s glossy production values work against it: the supposedly grimy migrant bolthole, backlit with billowing drapes, is more akin to the foyer of a distressed-decor boutique hotel, and it is filled with Kurds and Yazidis who look more like models than refugees. For all the real-world talk, Nihat’s approach feels removed from reality.Exodus is on digital platforms now.