Caner Ci̇ndoruk in 'Salvation.' Liman Film/Courtesy of Berlinale Share on Facebook Share on X Google Preferred Share to Flipboard Show additional share options Share on LinkedIn Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Tumblr Share on Whats App Send an Email Print the Article Post a Comment The title of Turkish writer-director Emin Alper's Salvation (Kurtuluş) carries a bitter sting, pointing up how a perceived enemy threat can be manipulated to seed survivalist panic that escalates into genocide. Salvation for one side means elimination of the other, and establishing which is the righteous side can be entirely subjective, especially when the aggrieved become the aggressors. Those blurred boundaries are the subject of Alper's powerful slow-burn drama. The movie is an occasionally confusing but mostly gripping account of inter-clan conflict fueled by the nightmares of an ordinary man, who overnight becomes a mystic religious leader. But it's also a timely and chilling allegory for strongmen rulers across the globe whose nationalist rhetoric fuels "us or them" hostility. Patient attention is required to sort out the characters and geography but once the fuse is fully lit and the material elevated by the introduction of dreams and superstitions, Salvation burns. Related Stories Movies 'Yo (Love Is a Rebellious Bird)' Review: A Filmmaker's Moving, Joyful, Formally Inventive Doc Tribute to Her Free-Spirited Friend Movies 'Soumsoum, the Night of the Stars' Review: A Slow-Burn Mélange of African Folklore and Teen Horror, Set Against a Stunning Desert Backdrop Salvation The Bottom Line A provocative allegorical powder keg. Venue: Berlin Film Festival (Competition)Cast: Caner Ci̇ndoruk, Berkay Ateş, Feyyaz Duman, Naz Göktan, Özlem Taş, Eren Demi̇r, Seli̇m Akgül, Hichi Demi, Nazmi̇ KaramanDirector-screenwriter: Emin Alper 1 hour 59 minutes Unrest begins in a remote Turkish mountain village when the Hazeran clan, who fought off terrorist attacks to protect their community's land, learn that the Bezari tribe, who fled to the city for safety, have returned now that the threat has subsided. And they want their land back. For generations, the Bezaris bought up all the fertile land in the valley and grew rich off the backs of the Hazeran servant class. But in their absence, the Hazerans have been farming the fields, keeping the soil irrigated and planting crops. They have strong feelings about simply handing it back, especially before harvest time, asking why others should profit from their hard work, not to mention the sacrifices of those who died in the conflict. But the Bezaris have the gendarmerie on their side. The Hazerons' spiritual leader is Sheik Ferit (Feyyaz Duman), whose confidence, eloquence and matinee-idol looks made him a natural to leapfrog over his brooding older brother Mesut (Caner Cindoruk) when the position was passed down. But Ferit's conciliatory inclinations and his counsel to the villagers to leave the contested lands peacefully don't play well with the fired-up locals. Gatherings intended for worship in the village lodge devolve into shouting matches that raise the temperature in a similar way to the heated meeting between locals and corporate interlopers in Ryusuke Hamaguchi's Evil Does Not Exist or the impromptu town hall in Cristian Mungiu's R.M.N. When Ferit advises them to hand over an evicted farmer who has gone into hiding, it's clear to the villagers that the Sheik is the wrong man to lead their fight. While others like Yilmaz (Berkay Ateş) are more vocal opponents to Ferit, it's agreed that Mesut should step up and take charge. He seems uncertain at first, but when he starts having visions, he interprets them as divine guidance that he must take up the mission and protect what rightfully belongs to the Hazerons. Homes are firebombed, a man turns up dead, a farmer's stable is sabotaged, with his animals pushed into a pond - these and other events suggest that neither side is a passive victim in this fight. But we see only one point of view A jealous, insecure man prone to insomnia, Mesut's dreams begin in one of the movie's most disturbing scenes, with the seduction of his wife Gülsüm (Özlem Taş) by an invisible force. Gülsüm once worked for a wealthy Bezari family, and when Mesut learns she is pregnant with twins, his suspicious nature goes into overdrive. It's fueled by superstition about twins being the work of the devil, planting an evil child to corrupt the innocent one. Alper (Beyond the Hill, Burning Days) keeps the divide between dreams and reality porous, so when Mesut follows furtive strangers at night around the village's warren of dark alleyways, it's often unclear whether they exist or not. The same goes for his nocturnal encounters with Yilmaz's son, a sleepwalking messenger who tells him not to fight alone, reassuring him that the villagers will stand beside him. There is no shortage of political parallels to be drawn between Mesut - a weak man who suddenly finds himself