A Cup of Turkish Coffee

  • January 30, 2015 / 18:00
  • January 31, 2015 / 13:00

Directors: Nazlı Eda Noyan & Dağhan Celayir
France, Turkey; 8’, 2013, color
Turkish with English subtitles

An old woman and her granddaughter sit around a table and go through old family photographs. Although this old woman, at first, tries to resist looking at these pictures, she cannot resist what the past evokes. During the time it takes to drink one cup of Turkish coffee we witness the story of a little girl who hung on to life and captured happiness, although she was forced to get married at a young age. These old family photographs are transformed by the old woman's feelings of the past while her granddaughter and a cup of Turkish coffee tie her to the present.

Coffee and Cigarettes

Coffee and Cigarettes

A Film About Coffee

A Film About Coffee

Coffee: Between Reality and Imagination

Coffee: Between Reality and Imagination

Hot Coffee

Hot Coffee

Straight to Hell

Straight to Hell

Smoke

Smoke

Blue in the Face

Blue in the Face

Inside Llewyn Davis

Inside Llewyn Davis

Coffee Futures

Coffee Futures

A Cup of Turkish Coffee

A Cup of Turkish Coffee

Midnight Stories: Hotel of Retro Dreams <br> Doğu Yücel

Midnight Stories: Hotel of Retro Dreams
Doğu Yücel

He didn’t expect this from me. And I hadn’t expected that we would decide to get married that day, at that moment. Everything happened all of a sudden, but exactly like it was supposed to happen in our day. We thought of the idea of marriage simultaneously, we smiled simultaneously, blinking and opening our eyes in unison. 

The First Nudes

The First Nudes

Men were the first nudes in Turkish painting. The majority of these paintings were academic studies executed in oil paint; they were part of the education of artists that had finally attained the opportunity to work from the live model. The gender of the models constituted an obstacle in the way of characterizing these paintings as ‘nudes’. 

Midnight Horror Stories: The Last Ferry <br> Galip Dursun

Midnight Horror Stories: The Last Ferry
Galip Dursun

I remembered a game as I was waiting in the passenger lounge for the ferry to arrive just a few minutes ago. A game we used to play at home when I was young, in my country that is very far away from here, a relic from the distant past; I don’t even remember how we used to play it. The kind of game that makes me feel a thousand times lonelier than I already am among the crowd waiting to get on the ferry.