For a film that feels like a response to troubled times, there’s very little politics in the film — no mention of terror attacks or Erdogan.
In one scene, people chip in to pay a street cat’s vet fees, an act of instinctive generosity that’s hard not to imagine seeping into interpersonal connections.
Footage shows Halil Dağ leaping down off a rock at the historic Urfa Castle in southern Turkey before losing his balance and tumbling off a cliff edge.
She profiles seven camera-ready cats, all of whom have distinct personalities and nicknames: the Hustler, the Lover, the Psycho, the Social Butterfly, the Hunter, the Gentleman, and the Player.
A good director knows the importance of a good cast, and Torun’s got one hell of an ensemble.
If you don’t express your femininity, then you’re seen as frigid. No one says, ‘Oh, what a slut’ to a cat.” “You also see so many men in the film who tend to these cats, and have this opportunity to be affectionate with a feminine being without it being misinterpreted,” she explains.