Head On [Gegen die Wand]

Fatih Akin, Germany/Turkey, 2004, 121 minutes

Starring the rugged Birol Unel and captivating newcomer Sibel Kekilli and directed by one of the hottest young European directors, Head-On is a hedonistic romance in the spirit of Sid and Nancy or Wild at Heart. Set in both Frankfurt and Istanbul, the story gathers momentum as star-crossed lovers Cahit (Unel) and Sibel (Kekilli) chase their demons in two of the world’s great metropolises. Disenchanted Cahit drunkenly smashes his car up one night and ends up in the psychiatric ward, where he meets the troubled Sibel, who regularly slashes up her wrists in response to the social restrictions imposed by her traditional Turkish family. By joining forces in what begins as a marriage of convenience, Cahit and Sibel are soon drawn inexorably together.

Head-On has been generating a tremendous amount of discussion within the cinematic community, partly because it deals with the experience of young immigrants in a way that is accessible and contemporary. This is hardly a ponderous art film, instead Head-On throbs with the energy of its soundtrack, and the fusion of cultures. While it deals with themes such as the fantasy of escape or return common to what has been dubbed 'exilic cinema’, it does so in a way that appeals to a younger, more modern audience. However, this is also a film about the bewitching effects of erotic love and the terrifying power of jealousy. As Cahit and Sibel spiral out of control, it is impossible to look away, their dissolution is so compelling.

Akin is one of the most exciting new directors of the last five years and he is sure to produce more work of this intense caliber. Unel and Kekilli, despite apparently disliking each other on set, positively burn up the screen with their chemistry. There is also a cooking scene so mouthwatering that I immediately had to run out and find a recipe for the stuffed peppers that Sibel makes for Cahit. Under Akin’s direction, both Frankfurt’s and Istanbul’s glorious aesthetic of decay come to light. Details like the graffiti-laden door of Cahit’s St. Pauli apartment building and the dimly-lit bar where Sibel scores her opium linger in your memory long after the film is over. Head-On is the kind of film that (thankfully) reminds us all that art cinema does not have to consist of long, silent takes of a child chasing a balloon.

Review by Sarah Artt
Written for EUFS Programme Spring 2006