Exodus

I'm not bias in anyway when I say, this is probably the greatest film in the history of cinema.

Some of the best directing ever witnessed.

Again without being biased I'd say this is also the work of the greatest director that has ever existed. In fact calling him a director is not enough.

I call upon all atheists to rethink their stance when a living God walks amongst us.

I heard that on set the director gave sight to a security guard who was blind and one day the catering messed up and there was no food, but the director turned the unused film neg rolls into chicken rolls and fed the crew.

On another occasion there was a scene on water and the grips couldn't get the water platform working, so the director handheld the camera and walked on the water himself to get the shot.

These are all my own opinions and I have tried to be as neutral as possible.

The director is a humble genius God.

A remarkable and deeply moving work of art that brings together the lives of individuals from diverse backgrounds, showing intersections of their stories. Despite coming from different walks of life, they are united by their shared experience of oppression, and their collective struggle, resilience, and the profound effort to truly understand one another across the divides of culture, and identity.

A powerful scenario that sets political divisions aside to explore why it is essential for us to truly understand one another. It feels as if it's based on real stories.

It tells what other people experience in their life.

The very existence of such a film feels like an indictment of humanity itself. While it only scratches the surface of the harsh realities and lived experiences it portrays, the most heartbreaking aspect is that these events continue to unfold even as we speak. I cannot bear to witness the world's profound hypocrisy laid bare in this way.

I wish this film could mark an end to such stories, but I'm certain it represents only the beginning. My deepest gratitude goes to everyone who contributed to bringing this important work to life. I can only hope that after creating this film, their own lives won't become the subject of another such story.

This is cinema that forces us to confront uncomfortable truths - the kind of film that should exist as a cautionary tale rather than a reflection of our ongoing reality. It serves as both an artistic achievement and a damning commentary on the state of our world.

Exodus is a powerful and emotional film that quietly pulls you into the lives of people who've lost everything overnight. Set in the aftermath of the 2016 coup attempt in Turkey, it tells the story of three strangers-each from very different walks of life-who are forced to flee their country after being wrongly accused. What makes the movie so effective is its focus on the human side of political turmoil. It doesn't shout; it simply shows the fear, hope, and small acts of courage that come with trying to survive.

The performances feel real and grounded, and the story moves at a pace that gives each character room to breathe. It's not just about escaping a country-it's about identity, loss, and unexpected solidarity. You walk away feeling like you've met real people, not just characters. A quietly moving film that stays with you.

Exodus is not just a film-it's a hauntingly emotional journey into the heart of a silenced nation. With quiet intensity and aching honesty, it sheds light on the deep-rooted human rights violations in Turkey, portraying them not as distant headlines, but as deeply personal, lived realities.

Through its raw performances and restrained yet powerful storytelling, Exodus gives voice to those who have been forgotten, repressed, or erased. Every scene is laced with a quiet urgency, confronting the audience not with sensationalism, but with truth. It doesn't scream; it whispers-and somehow, the whispers echo louder than any shout.

This film stands as a necessary act of cinematic courage. In a landscape where stories of injustice are often censored or ignored, Exodus dares to remember. It doesn't just document suffering; it humanizes it. And in doing so, it demands empathy, not pity-awareness, not avoidance.

More than a film, Exodus feels like the beginning of something greater. It sets a new precedent for how Turkish cinema can tackle political and humanitarian issues with grace, depth, and integrity. For future filmmakers seeking to explore truth through art, Exodus will serve as a landmark-a quiet but thunderous call to continue the conversation.

It leaves you not only moved, but marked.