The second part of the title of this third installment in the Turkish Siccîn series (in which there are currently six films) is Cürmü Ak.
One translation engine on the web claims that those paired words means “Slag Love.” Ak is Turkish for “love,” but the word Cürmü evades a neat translation; it means something like “offense” or “guilt.” Thus, the film’s subtitle signifies something like “criminal love” – a love which twists paramours into tragic figures.
Horror films which attempt to blend a compelling love story with terror often flounder. The romance of Siccîn 3 involves a young couple, Orhan and Kahder. They are in marital bliss. Kahder might be expecting their first child, as she explains to her husband under the boughs of their charmed tree. The actors playing the spouses ar Read more...
The second part of the title of this third installment in the Turkish Siccîn series (in which there are currently six films) is Cürmü Ak.
One translation engine on the web claims that those paired words means “Slag Love.” Ak is Turkish for “love,” but the word Cürmü evades a neat translation; it means something like “offense” or “guilt.” Thus, the film’s subtitle signifies something like “criminal love” – a love which twists paramours into tragic figures.
Horror films which attempt to blend a compelling love story with terror often flounder. The romance of Siccîn 3 involves a young couple, Orhan and Kahder. They are in marital bliss. Kahder might be expecting their first child, as she explains to her husband under the boughs of their charmed tree. The actors playing the spouses are competent, but there’s just not a chemistry that allows one to really identify with the couple.
Perhaps that’s because not much screen time is devoted to their romance. Shortly after introducing the couple, tragedy intervenes. Following an on-the-job suicide under Orhan’s watch, the victim’s widow places a curse upon him. The curse is fulfilled immediately: A truck t-bones a vehicle carrying Kahder on her way to the doctor’s office to confirm her pregnancy. Her brother Sedat and his young son are in the same car.
The consequences of this tragic crash consume the rest of the film and suffuse it with an unrelenting sense of dread which is reminiscent, in many ways, of Pet Sematary.
The screech of skidding tires and crunching sheet metal give way to a forward shift; several months have elapsed. Sedat, Kahder’s brother, is uninjured but hobbled by the guilt of having caused the crash. His son Mehmet is paralyzed and mute. What of his sister, Kahder?
In the next scene, we see Kahder at home with Orhan, seemingly awakening after an extended unconsciousness. She is disoriented and suffering from amnesia. When she’s alone, Kahder encounters charcoal-faced demons. Her husband Orhan cares for her and nurses her back to health, all the while spell-making in the basement, relentlessly constructing charms, mixing potions, and sprinkling powders.
Presumably, Orhan’s dabbling in the occult is aimed at curing his bride of her amnesia, but there’s a fine line between folk medicine and demon pacts, and the narrative isn’t too clear about whether Orhan’s hobby is misguided or not. At this juncture, the film seems to falter in translation, much like its subtitle (“Slag Love”?!): Is Orhan keeping the demons at bay or luring them into his household? There are precious few clues to work with.
The viewer who sticks with the film will be rewarded. The final moral judgment on Orhan is unambiguous. The conclusion also explains Sedat’s voiceover narration at the beginning of the film when he wonders, “I’m not sure where the curse ends, and the miracle starts.”
Like Orhan’s ambiguous spells, Sedat’s paradox is resolved, but only in the closing minutes of the film.
Not quite worth watching. It’s rather unsettling, but also a rather equivocal film, at least until its ending.
Read less...
