a review by J. Robert Parks
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In German and Turkish, with English subtitles
Writer/ director – Fatih Akin
Director of photography – Rainer Klausmann
Ecitor – Andrew Bird
Artistic director – Andreas Thiel
Producers – Ralph Schwingel, Stefan Schubert and Wüste Filmproduktion
Strand Releasing. 118 minutes. Not rated.
STARRING: Birol Unel (Cahit), Sibel Kekilli (Sibel), Catrin Striebeck (Maren) and Guven Kirac (Seref).
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The first German movie in 18 years to win the top prize at the Berlin Film Festival finally makes its Chicago debut. Its title “Head On” refers to a moment early in the film when a main character drives head on into a brick wall, but the title’s also ironic. The phrase is usually used with the idea of facing one’s problems head on, which is not something the movie’s characters often do. Instead, they’re more likely to crash their car or slit their wrists.
Cahit (Birol Unel) and Sibel (Sibel Kekilli) are two Turkish immigrants making their way in Hamburg, Germany. Cahit is in his 40s, but his primary source of income comes from cleaning up after rock concerts at a local club called The Factory. Fortunately, he doesn’t need much money; his apartment is a sty, and his only expenses are enough beer and cocaine to keep him sedated.
Sibel is much younger and struggling under her father and brother’s strict “old world” ways. She longs to take her “perfect breasts” (her words) and explore the world, one man at a time. But the only way she can get away from her parents is to get married, so she latches on to Cahit. “Why me?” he asks. “Because you’re Turkish, and father will accept you.” What she doesn’t mention is that Cahit is so bankrupt of feelings that she can marry him without any emotional attachment.
The film itself doesn’t require much emotional attachment, at least for its first half. While Cahit is charismatic in that swarthy, detached, rock-star kind of way, we find ourselves staring at him more in disbelief than sympathy. He spends most of his day getting drunk, then either gets into a fight at the local bar or goes home with Maren, his sometime girlfriend, for a night of animalistic sex. Head On, like many European films of the last few years, uses sexual deviance to portray the spiritual emptiness of its characters, while also appearing hip and edgy.
But just as Head On appears ready to descend into the swamp of ennui, its characters emerge out of their mire. Cahit wakes up from his stupor long enough to figure out he might actually love Sibel. And for her part, she realizes that one-night stands lose their luster after a while. She might not want to go back to Turkey, literally or metaphorically, but she doesn’t want to stay on the road she’s on.
The two actors’ natural charisma helps tremendously. Unel has the sullen flair (and mane of hair) of Benecio del Toro, while Kekilli offers a vulnerability that nicely undercuts her character’s wild ways. The two also show real chemistry. In one of the movie’s finest scenes, Sibel makes a traditional Turkish meal for Cahit, after which they dance frenetically around their apartment.
Head On’s use of music is one of its strongest points. The Romany musician Selim Sesler and his band playing on a bed of carpets along a river opens and closes the film, while also marking periodic chapter breaks. Meanwhile, a simple love song/lullaby sung by one stranger to another provides a real moment of communion. Furthermore, the contrast between German punk and traditional Turkish songs highlights the difficulty Cahit and Sibel have in finding their way as immigrants in contemporary Germany. When one of them chooses to re-locate to Istanbul, the difficulties of assimilating continue, just in a different fashion.
The movie also focuses on the fragmented family ties of immigrants. Cahit has no relatives in Hamburg, so when he meets Sibel’s parents he has to impose on a friend to pretend to be his uncle. When she asks if any of his family will come to the wedding, he dismisses it out of hand. But her family situation is even more divided, as her male relatives insist on holding to Turkish definitions of honor, morality, and gender roles, which she emphatically rejects. Later when tragedy strikes, she has no one to turn to but a distant relative, and that doesn’t work out as she expects. Even the theme of sex takes on a more nuanced shade. As Cahit and Sibel struggle with whether to consummate their marriage, they grow to understand that sex and love might not be the same thing, but that they are intertwined in ways that transcend the physical.
For all of that, though, Head On remains an earthy tale of two souls finding each other and then themselves.
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J. Robert Parks also publishes reviews at The Hyde Park Herald and The Phantom Tollbooth.