Rewind – 2007 in Film: Fatih Akın’s The Edge of Heaven

The opening moments of the 2007 film, The Edge of Heaven (Auf der anderen Seite, German; Yasamin Kiyisinda, Turkish), sees one of the principal characters, Nejat, traveling by car. He stops to get petrol and some snacks, and his ears prick up at the song playing in the station. The through-line of mortality in Fatih Akın‘s true cinematic marvel begins with the story itself. The shopkeeper informs Nejat that the singer died a couple of years earlier. And that he was young, like him. There’s a second that Nejat stops to ponder on that, before going about his business.

That ‘business’ being taking the long drive to Trabzon, on the Black Sea coast, to visit his father, Ali. This is also roughly where the film ends. A glorious shot of Nejat on the beach, looking out to the sea, is certainly no spoiler. On the contrary, once we have reached this closing stage of the multi-character journey, this tranquil, contemplative scene seems completely fitting.

Akın’s characters in The Edge of Heaven (translates to On the Other Side), which we will get to shortly, are such deeply-set, richly drawn characters. They form a social tapestry, entwining various, small-world paths between Germany and Turkey. Akın, of course, is a German who was born to Turkish parents, you can see the importance of his double heritage displayed in his pages and on the screen.

“The Edge of Heaven is one of the finest screenplays of not just 2007, but the last few decades.”

The screenplay is as tight as a nut, every line of dialogue serves a purpose in the lives of the characters and the audience. Merging very different people, with relatable issues and lifestyles, over three chapters, is formed with such seamless flow. The result is an inch-perfect, organic human story. Akın won the Prix du scénario (Best Screenplay) at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival. A worthy victor indeed, The Edge of Heaven is one of the finest screenplays of not just 2007, but the last few decades.

The Turkish-German writer-director tackles issues of activism, migration, as well as the personal conflicts and constraints of people from different worlds. And he does it without any heavy-handed manipulation. But rather a seemingly natural flair for seeing the beauty in humanity – whatever the weather. The stories and their characters are linked so effortlessly, there are no fleeting coincidences or chances meetings that fall short of Akın’s deployed reality.

The clashes between the two cultures of Turkey and Germany are told as we would stumble upon them. The Edge of Heaven is casually broken into three chapters, the names of the first two delve into significant plot events. Akın is not going to shy away from the fate of these people in mere words. His carefully weaved story on the hows and the whens are more integral than any statements of plot. Those particular title cards loom the inevitable, a cloud of melancholy filters through any new found companionship we find it easy to embrace.

“The stories and their characters are linked so effortlessly, there are no fleeting coincidences or chances meetings that fall short of Akın’s deployed reality.”

The first segment introduces us to Ali (Tuncel Kurtiz), an elderly Turkish migrant, now in Bremen. He interacts with a middle-aged prostitute, Yeter (Nursel Köse), and soon offers to pay for her to live and sleep with him on a more permenent basis. This is not Pretty Woman, but an intriguingly fitting arrangement. He is lonely, though won’t admit that. And she could do with settling down given the threats she receives from Muslims for the work she does.

It’s an amicable scenario. But it comes with untold tales of baggage. Yeter has a daughter somewhere out there, who thinks she works in a shoe shop rather than on the streets. And Ali, who objects aggressively to being called uncle by Yeter, tells her he was with a widow who had a daughter many years ago. But Ali is a bitter old drunk too, at one point even questions his own son as to if he screwed Yeter while he was in hospital recovering from a heart attack.

Nejat (Baki Davrak) did not screw Yeter, of course, and that is neither her nor there. So different, and you could say detached, from his father, Nejat is a placid soul. Though his outburst when his dad lights up a cigarette over refusing food post-hospitalisation goes a long way to shows he cares. But we knew that already. Nejat gives the reluctant old man a book, and urges him to read it. It seems unlikely he will, until a later scene, Ali tears up having read the book after all.

“And in those personal paradoxes lies a lot of what makes Akın’s film so wonderful in its development and story-telling.

A professor of German at Hamburg University, Nejat endorses that knowledge and education are human rights. Yet he knows little about his father’s current lifestyle, or that tomato plants he waters for him are ripe for plucking. And in those personal paradoxes lies a lot of what makes Akın’s film so wonderful in its development and story-telling.

Following a tragedy, Nejat feels the urge to look for Ayten, which swings the film’s narrative smoothly into another direction. Incidentally, we see a sleeping Ayten at the back of the lecture hall in an earlier scene. Meanwhile, in Turkey, Nejat comes across a quaint bookstore that is for sale, and, well, buys it. What you find when you are focused on something else. This encounter highlights so wonderfully the relationship Akın portrays between Germany and Turkey – that a Turkish professor of German, ends up in a German bookstore in Turkey, as the exchange goes.

The second segment joins the illusive daughter of Yeter, Ayten (Nurgül Yesilçay), a Turkish anti-government resistance rebel. Ayten snags a police gun during a riot, and stashes it on a rooftop. Later, she leaves Turkey and flees to Germany. There, she meets Lotte (Patrycia Ziolkowska), a German middle-class student. Ayten finds herself in good hands, from an adult life of conflict to the company of kindness. A romance forms, much to the initial displeasure of Lotte’s mother, Susanne (Hanna Schygulla).

“The third and final segment continues in the same vein, almost coming full circle at times in its bumpy road towards liberation.”

Ayten is a fascinating character. Buzzing with the electricity of homeland troubles, and wearing her own political views firmly on her sleeve. But there are moments of a longing for repairing relationships, when she appears to be making attempts to locate her mother. If only she knew that looking for shoes shops in the directory will ultimately lead nowhere.

Lotte, an open-minded young woman, who finds an opportunity to escape the strains of her mother’s presence, succumbs to the excitement of Ayten’s rebelious side. When the shit hits the fan, Ayten is catpured by police officers (stopped for not wearing her seatbelt of all things) when they discover she is in Germany illegally. When Ayten cries “Asylum! Asylum!” on her seizing, there’s a twang of glory that runs through your blood. You support her plight, even against the regulations of law.

From there, Ayten attempts a claim of political asylum, deported back to Turkey. Lotte’s mother agrees to help free Ayten, whose daughter has already left for Turkey to offer her support. Its at this point where The Edge of Heaven marks the acquisition of knowledge can be bad news. The third and final segment continues in the same vein, almost coming full circle at times in its bumpy road towards liberation.

“Never sentimental, or serendipitous in its execution, Akın’s story is a finely tuned mosaic, of a life we either recognise, or know is out there.”

Never sentimental, or serendipitous in its execution, Akın’s story is a finely tuned mosaic, of a life we either recognise, or know is out there. One scene has two of the characters in car passing by the bus where two others are passengers. Another link, when Nejat has pinned up notices of Yeter in the hope Ayten would see. And then later, Lotte puts up posters of Ayten, now directly looking for her.

Akın is an exceptional writer, and a terrific director. There are times in The Edge of Heaven that nudge at the bleak and the sacrifices, and also manages to show these people as human beings, that can be bruised, both physically and mentally. The last time I saw this again, days ago, I welled up slightly at the exchange between Nejat and Susanne as they view the Bayram festival outside. Triggered by Nejat’s reminiscing of being afraid of his father’s story as a kid, and what he said to his boy as an oath of protection over God. The Edge of Heaven is a thought-provoking, candidly woven modern tale. One I am more confident in calling a masterpiece with every watch.