In this series of articles, in which we seek answers to the question, “What was once happening in the cinemas of the TRNC?”, today we will develop a different perspective. Our guest today will be Prof. Dr. Nilgün Abisel, a lecturer at the NEU Faculty of Communication. I should mention that it was a very long and enjoyable conversation, but I will share a summary of this interview. I would like to say a few words for those who do not know our esteemed professor, whom I believe is well known to people interested in cinema: Ms. Abisel, who has written articles and translations on various topics related to cinema, published her book “Silent Cinema” in 1989, while her collection “Writings on Turkish Cinema” was published in 1994. Abisel’s book “Genres in Popular Cinema” was published in 1995, and she is one of the authors of the book “So Strange, So Familiar,” published in 2005.
What I meant by the different perspective I mentioned in the introduction to my article is this: while films were once being released in the cinemas of the TRNC, what were the producers, directors and cinematographers of those films—in short, Yeşilçam—doing? What was going on in Yeşilçam? We will look for answers to these questions.
Before beginning the interview, I would like to express my gratitude to our esteemed professor for sharing her extensive knowledge with us.
Cem KAR: Professor, just as Turkish films attracted interest in Turkey in the 1950s and 1970s, they were also popular in the TRNC, where new films were eagerly awaited. While all this was happening, what were the people making these films doing? What difficulties did they face?
Nilgün Abisel: First of all, cinema came to Turkey through foreign films. There was very little local production until the 1950s. So it is important to note that the existence of cinemas depended on foreign films. After the 1950s, the issue of production was resolved, and there were, of course, many reasons for this: financial support, tax reductions, the electricity problem being solved, and so on. Slowly, cinemas and films spread across Anatolia. As cinemas and films spread, audiences grew, and the number of production companies and films increased accordingly. As it gained momentum, the whole thing grew into a system that continued until the mid-1970s. From the very beginning, Yeşilçam’s importers were always bringing in films from abroad (foreign films). These importers embarked on making films. In other words, they started making films themselves. There is something you need to know here: foreign films were being imported even when there was no such thing as a domestic film.
C.K: As far as we know, Yeşilçam films were always short of financing. How was this problem addressed?
N.A: The companies that distributed films across Anatolia were the ones who paid Yeşilçam to have films made.
C.K: So they were also producers…
N.A: No, they were not producers! That is where our system differed. These companies were only intermediaries. They provided advances at various percentage rates. Producers never had any money of their own. The money came from the large distributors we mentioned. The distributors had a highly developed network, with branches in different regions. They were based in Istanbul, where meetings were held to decide what kind of films would be made and who would act in them, and the films were made accordingly.
C.K: So films were produced as a result of this kind of organization, I suppose…
N.A: Yes. Meanwhile, during this golden period—the late 1960s and early 1970s—films were exported to Greece and Middle Eastern countries. But these sales were made individually. There were also legal problems; there were legal barriers to film sales and co-productions. Instead of coming together to sell their films, these companies competed with one another, lowered their prices, and eventually those sales came to an end.
C.K: So, Professor, why did Yeşilçam come to an end?
N.A: This is a very long subject. The details are in my book “Writings on Turkish Cinema,” but to summarize, there were many reasons. We can point to structural and circumstantial factors, a lack of foresight, mistakes, and many other causes. Look at the last 50 years of Turkey: there have been many political and social changes. Cinema is a risky investment everywhere in the world. In a country changing so rapidly—and one with little capital—investing in cinema was very risky. When you think about it, you can understand their position, too. So when criticizing Yeşilçam, we should not forget these things. In the system, everyone gave promissory notes to one another, and if one could not be paid, the whole system collapsed. Yeşilçam had one slogan—even if it was rarely stated: cut costs. Bring costs down to the lowest possible level; cinema is a very expensive art form!
C.K: You said that promissory notes were given. Were payments made with promissory notes?
N.A: Setting up a company is not difficult! Companies would have a small room, posters on the wall and a tea server. The camera belonged to the cinematographer. So cinematographers were hired along with their cameras, and they were among the people whose jobs were most secure. Depending on the agreement, stars were paid in cash as a percentage; most of the workers, however, received promissory notes. Extras worked for their meals and a few pennies. Of course, there were also companies that paid cash and operated in this way.
C.K: Why do you think films cannot be made in the TRNC?
N.A: Making a film is not easy! Many things have to come together for a cinema industry to take shape. You need raw film stock, chemicals, a laboratory, a dubbing studio, a composer, actors, technical infrastructure, equipment and trained personnel. Cinema is a very large industry. We still import raw film stock. Importing means being dependent. You cannot produce! In the 1970s, quotas were imposed on raw film imports because of economic difficulties. This was one of the factors that prepared the way for Yeşilçam’s end. On the other hand, your domestic audience has to be large. Population size and the habit of going to the cinema are determining factors. In other words, you have to recoup the cost of your film in your own country. Hollywood finds a way to recoup the costs of its films in its own country.
C.K: Based on what I learned from the interviews I conducted for this series, I found out that imports of foreign films continued even during wartime. I found that very interesting.
N.A: This is a matter of rationality. American distribution companies have a very powerful and well-established organization. Just as the branches of major companies do not close during wartime, this distribution network is not disrupted either. American distribution companies sell films to you in packages. You have to buy them in packages of five. For example, when you buy a very successful film, you have to take the other films along with it; they have the power to say, “Take them or leave them!” In this situation, our companies began buying bad films instead. Around that time, when Hong Kong cinema—kung fu films—shook the world, these films began to be imported, as they were cheap to make and even cheaper to import. And, of course, sex films were also cheaper to import. At the time, they bought whichever films were cheapest on the international market; something had to be shown in cinemas. Those films did much better than anyone expected. Young men were interested in them. Once these films began to do well, local adaptations started to be made. Local karate, kung fu and sex films were produced. So this craze was another factor that prepared the way for Yeşilçam’s end. The sex-film craze alone did not bring Yeşilçam to an end. Along with this, the country’s circumstances and political situation kept families away from cinemas, and families stopped going to the movies. This meant that cinemas could not be saved, revenue streams dried up, and films could no longer be made. Television and video also encouraged families to stay at home rather than watch low-budget, bad films in cinemas. Even when films were made, they were low-budget. In other words, as I said earlier, if the domestic market does not cover a film’s costs, the cinema of that country is finished. And the balance in Yeşilçam was so finely tuned that even a small disruption was enough to throw everything off. In this situation, if Yeşilçam was 50% to blame, the other half was due to the country’s circumstances.
C.K: I have heard that Turkish cinema is developing today and that Yeşilçam is stirring again. Do you think there has been a revival or a change?
N.A: There will never be another Yeşilçam! That period is over. Yeşilçam had a system of its own, with both good and bad aspects.
C.K: When did it end?
N.A: That system had ended by the beginning of the 1990s. There are no distribution companies of that kind today. There are one or two local companies and foreign distribution companies. The distributors in Anatolia stopped doing this work in the early 1980s. Today, we see new versions of Yeşilçam’s typical characters in Turkish cinema. I had really hoped that something new would emerge, but unfortunately, compared with those days, only one thing has changed: the dialogue is better, and people have started using more everyday language. That said, we cannot say that this kind of language was used in all Yeşilçam films.
C.K: Thank you, Professor, for this informative and pleasant conversation.
N.A: Thank you.