Posts Tagged ‘Turkey’

Digitization of early Christian MSS in Middle Eastern monasteries

Thursday, December 3rd, 2009

Read entire article here.

A Benedictine monk, the Rev. Columba Stewart of St. John’s Abbey and University (College­ville, Minn.)–executive director of the abbey’s Hill Museum & Manuscript Library, and a historian of the early monastic period–leads the museum’s ambitious and longstanding effort to find and digitize manuscripts held in monastic communities in the Middle East, Europe, and Africa. “Our primary focus is Christian traditions, because that’s our expertise,” Father Stewart says.

The work began in the 1960s, when a monk at St. John’s decided to microfilm manuscripts fading away in Austrian monasteries.

The project is currently active at more than 20 sites, but most of the museum’s current activity focuses in and around the Middle East, including Lebanon, Malta, Syria, Iraq, and Turkey. The museum also does intermittent work in Ethiopia.

slightly abridged & edited from the full article by Jennifer Howard
appearing in the Chronicle of Higher Education
29 November 2009

“Rembetika,” CD review by Z. G. Özkişi

Friday, November 13th, 2009

Rembetika: Aşk, Gurbet, Hapis ve Tekke Şarkıları (Songs of love, exile, prison and hash dens). Istanbul/Athens/New York 78 rpm recordings (1926–1954). By Kollektif. £11.99/€17.63 (audio CD and booklet).

Having launched Rembetika 1 and 2, produced by Muammer Ketencioğlu, Kalan Music collected, with the production of Stelyo Berber and Pelin Suer, 78 rpm disks which were recorded under the name of “Rembetika” between 1926 and 1954 in Istanbul, Athens, and New York. The album includes love, exile, prison, and lodge songs. The album’s name, “Rembetika,” means rembetika songs which is the plural form of a musical style called rembetiko. From an etymological view, “rembetiko” music is supposed to have been derived from “rebenoc” in the Slav language: young person; “rembelos,” in Italian: reformist; “rembome” (verb) in Greek: to roam. This musical style was predominantly common between 1850 and 1950, especially where the Greek diaspora lived, mainly in Izmir, Istanbul, Thessaloniki, and Athens.

In 1922 during the Turkish Independence War, about 1 million Anatolian Greeks moved to Greece as a result of the Turkish victory over Greece, many of them taking refuge in bad neighborhoods in the port of Piraeus. Rembetika can be described as the songs in which the Greeks who had to leave Turkey in consequence of this war, called the Asia Minor Disaster, blended Aegean and Istanbul songs with Greek music. Mentioning the feeling of homesickness, longing for homeland, and memories, these songs have a lyrical atmosphere. These victims of compulsory immigration were looked down on, insulted by being called “Greek non-Muslim” on the Turkish side and “Turkish seed” on the Greek side, had to suffer poverty, and were in the position of “the other.”

Rembetiko basically comes from two traditions. The first is the Izmir style (smyrneika), a more joyful rembetiko; the second is the Piraeus type, which is lodge style. These two styles came together in Piraeus after the war. The origins of rembetiko are claimed to be related to prison songs. Known as the music of bullies, drug addicts, and prison aghas, rembetiko was able to enter into the entertainment places of the middle class and gain popularity thanks to artists like Vassilis Tsitsanis and Theodorakis. In the 1920s Greek musicians who had had to immigrate to Greece as a result of the war brought the Izmir style in rembetiko (smyrneika) to Athens, Thessaloniki, and Piraeus, together with such instruments as the violin, kemence, ud, kanun, and satur; and in 1932 the Piraeus style, which is composed of bouzouki, bağlama, and guitar, began to develop. Immigrants opened their own Cafe Amans and thus rembetiko got past the limits of prisons and lodges and started to voice the feelings of larger social environments.

Sold together with a comprehensive booklet, the album under review mostly includes songs which are still sung in Turkey even though they have different lyrics today. The songs are played with the various combinations of such instruments as kanun, kemence, ud, violin, clarinet, bouzouki, bağlama, mandolin, zil, kaşık, piano, and guitar. They are mostly in 9/4 or 9/8 rhythm, which is the basis of Aegean zeybek, a folk dance named after Aegean zeybeks and improvised by one person.

[This review has been edited for length; the full review may be read in MELA Notes no. 82, which will be posted soon on the MELA Notes webpage.]

Zeynep Gülçın Özkişi
Yıldız Technical University

Notable recent Middle Eastern films: Turkey, review by D. Giovacchini

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

A number of truly notable films have come from Turkey recently. There have been new films by several world class directors. The first is Iklimlar (Climates) by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, best known in the West for his 2002 film Uzak. Iklimlar continues the director’s minimalist approach, with spare dialogue and long tight close-ups. Its story casts a chilly view on the possibilities of real communication in human relationships. Next is Zeki Demirkubuz’s film Kader (Fate). Like Ceylan, Demirkubuz is on familiar ground. As in his 1997 film Masumiyat (Innocence), this movie is set among the criminal fringe, the down and outs of Turkish urban life, but explores the universal theme of the power of passion to destroy, rather than uplift, a life, when it becomes obsession. There is also a new film by Dervis Zaim, which I have not seen yet, called Cenneti Beklerden (Waiting for heaven). Zaim’s fine earlier work, such as Tabutta Rouasata (Somersault in a coffin) (1996) and Filler ve Cemen (Elephants and grass) (2000), bodes well for this film.

Two sweet and gentle comedies have come out this year: Hokkabaz (Trickster), written and directed by and starring one of Turkey’s top comics, Cem Yilmaz. The film traces the adventures in magic and love of a somewhat less than talented stage magician. The other is the award-winning Dondurmam Gaymak (Creamy ice cream), written and directed by Yuksel Aksu. In the film, a village ice cream man takes on both the challenge of the big ice cream companies, and the mischievous little boys of his town. There is also a sci-fi oddity out, a sequel to one of the worst films ever made, Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam (The man who saved the world) (1982). Prepare yourself for Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam’nin Oglu (Son of the man who saved the world), starring a quite aged Cuneyt Arkin, who played the title role in the first film. The first Star Trek films spring to mind. Get the original for kitsch value alone, and pass on the sequel. Also pass on Sinav (Exam) a slick Western MTV-inspired look at Turkish students preparing (in unorthodox ways) for their crucial college entrance exam. It is not worthy of the director, Omer Faruk Sorak, who also made Vizontele and G.O.R.A.

As people who choose to live a religiously conservative lifestyle become more numerous and conspicuous on Turkish streets, Islam and the role it might play in their heretofore strictly secular society have become subjects much in the minds of Turks today. Two fine films that reflect this preoccupation are the award-winning Takva (Piety) by Ozer Kiziltan, and Adem’in Trenleri (Adam’s trains) by Baris Pirhasan. In Takva a simple pious man is chosen to look after the considerable financial holdings of his Sufi lodge. The film charts his growing corruption and loss of faith. In Adem’in Trenleri, a new imam comes to a small rural village. At first, he seems a grim, unsympathetic figure who mistreats his young wife and daughter. Eventually, it is revealed that he married his wife when she was pregnant by another man to save her from mistreatment and ridicule. In the course of the film, the villagers learn of his compassionate nature, while he learns just how much he really loves his young wife. The realistic depiction of a village imam in this film is far beyond the offensive “imam as cool guy” caricature presented by last year’s Imam.

The Turks have long enjoyed historical films, usually of the ghazi variety. A film that deals with modern political events like the 1980 coup is a rarity, but that is the subject of the new film Zincirbozan (The broken chain), directed by Atil Inac. This political thriller pulls no punches historically, and is a fine fictional examination of one of Turkey’s dark periods. On the lighter side is Son Osmanli Yandun Ali (The last Ottoman, Yandun Ali), directed by Mustafa Sevi Dogan. The film is an adaptation of a series of graphic novels by Suat Yalaz about the fictional character involved in the Turkish War of Independence. The film casts the hero as a Turkish James Bond, but it is still a unique expression of contemporary Turkish culture and essential to any collection. Another fine costume epic of World War I that has recently been released is Eve Giden Yol 1914, written and directed by Semir Aslanyurek.

Lastly, there have been two reissues of classic Turkish films from the days of the Turkish Hollywood, known as Yesilcam. These films feature some the best known stars and directors, and most importantly, have English subtitles. Many of the classic Turkish films are available, but most do not have subtitles. The first is an atmospheric masterwork by auteur Metin Erksan, Sevmek Zamani (Time for love) (1965). The other is the award-winning Selvi Boylum Al Yazmalim (The girl with the red scarf) (1977) by Atif Yilmaz. Based on a novel by Cengiz Aytmatov, it stars Kadir Inanir, Turkan Soray, and Ahmet Mekin. These films will provide some historical perspective to any collection.

David Giovacchini
Stanford University