Some films entertain, some impress, and a rare few reach directly into your life and show you a truth you hadn't yet found the words for. Yurt(The Dormitory), Nehir Tuna's hauntingly intimate debut, is one of those rare films. It is a quiet masterpiece-so precise in its storytelling, so understated in its emotion, and yet, somehow, so overwhelmingly powerful.
I watched Yurt and, for the first time in my life, felt as if a film had reached me not just as a viewer, but as a human being living through a particular place, time, and atmosphere. Every frame of this film breathes, pauses, and listens. It does not shout or beg to be noticed-it simply exists, fully and truthfully, in a way that feels more like memory than narrative.
The story follows a young boy sent to a religious dormitory, navigating the silence between belief and doubt, masculinity and vulnerability, discipline and desire. The setting-both literal and psychological-evokes suffocation, but never melodrama. Tuna's brilliance lies in his restraint. Instead of imposing judgment, he invites us to sit beside the boy, to see what he sees, feel what he feels, and above all, to remember.
Visually, the film is exquisite. The use of light and shadow is not just beautiful, but meaningful-it conveys everything that cannot be said aloud in this repressive environment. The color palette reflects the emotional state of its characters-faded, cold, sometimes harsh, sometimes warm enough to hint at the possibility of tenderness. Tuna has an exceptional eye, one that understands not only how to look, but when to look, and when to turn away.
What struck me most was how effortlessly the film communicated the complexity of growing up in a space where power, control, and religious ideology intertwine. There's no simplistic good vs. Evil here. Tuna treats each character-even the sternest authority figures-with a kind of compassionate distance. The dormitory itself becomes a metaphor for a society that demands conformity and punishes softness, but it's never reduced to just that. It's more than a symbol; it's a world-one many of us will find painfully familiar.
As someone who teaches a course on "Political Inclusion and Art" , It captures the nuances of our political and social reality without didacticism, without slogans, and with a depth that only great art can offer. It tells the story of a generation growing up under quiet, everyday pressures-expectations about who they should be, how they should feel, what they should believe. But it tells that story with care, patience, and immense artistic control.
Nehir Tuna is a filmmaker whose lens understands the youth of this country better than any political analysis. His gaze is not just observant, it is human. He does not dramatize suffering-he simply shows it, in its slow, real, and often invisible forms.
Thank you, Nehir Tuna, for making something so precise, so compassionate, and so needed. You've given us a story that lingers-and a silence that speaks louder than anything else.
