The Edge of Heaven (Auf der anderen seite) - Fatih Akin

The edge of heaven is about people on the edge of relationships, the edge of breakdowns, the edge of happiness, the edge of misery, the edge of conflicts…walking on the edge of the road less traveled, where hoards of people walk down, oblivious to the those right next to them – disconnected, yet inexplicably related. Capturing the panorama inside the characters as well as it does outside them, it finds singularities in continuity of their lives.

Ali, a retired, lonely widower, finds his regular dose of carnal fulfillment in the arms (and bed) of Yeter, a Turkish prostitute, in the German town of Bremen. Yeter soon becomes the antidote to his loneliness, and he requests her to quit her work, and stay with him. As compensation, he’ll pay her whatever she makes in a month.

Ali’s son, Nejat Aksu, a professor of German studies at the university, does not take well to the news. However, Yeter’s earnestness and fortitude (she does what she does so she can send the money to her daughter who’s in college) create a strong bond between the two after Ali suffers a stroke. Ali alleges that something is going on between Nejat and Yeter, and a furious Nejat leaves, strongly perturbed by his father’s attitude towards Yeter, and his fragile health in addition to his outrageous accusations. Ali, in a fit of madness, hits Yeter and kills her inadvertently. Charged of involuntary manslaughter, Ali is incarcerated, and an unfathomable chasm develops between Ali and his son because of the chain of events.

Nejat departs for Turkey in order to find Ayten (Yeter’s daughter), to inform her of her mother’s demise and help her continue her college education. He comes across a German bookstore there, whose owner is a homesick German man, yearning to return to his homeland as well. Nejat buys the store from him and settles down so that he can carry out his search for Ayten.

Unknown to Nejat, Ayten, a self-proclaimed revolutionary, is in Germany fleeing the Turkish police, who are rounding up the radical political activists in Turkey, especially students. She goes to look for her mother, unaware of her death. Her “comrades” throw her out following an altercation, and she is rendered homeless with no money, no food, and no place to live. Lotte, a German student, falls in love with Ayten, and provides her food, clothing and shelter in her own home. Lotte’s mother Susanne, however, detests Ayten, and following an argument, Ayten leaves with Lotte to look for Yeter again, only to be caught by cops who deport her back to a Turkish prison. A lovesick Lotte follows her there and fortuitously meets Nejat, who offers her accommodation (unaware of her motives).

During a meeting in the prison, Ayten discloses the location of a fiream to Lotte, who procures it and is shot dead accidentally by some stoned kids who steal it from her. The incident flares up an international controversy, and Ayten is questioned about her group by the police.

A lonely and mournful Susanne goes to Turkey to talk to Ayten, and a bond is formed between them as a result of their sorrow that stems from the loss of a loved one. Ayten never finds out about her mother, and Ali and Nejat patch up.

The film is very untypical in the sense that it is not about routine love, sentimentality dripping sexuality or even inevitable closure. But it does overwhelm, despite its extreme simplification of expressions, emotions and character projections. There is a pervasive stream of realizations, repentance, and bonding across characters – in a way tracing how relationships are formed out of nothingness, sometimes even out of hatred. Even coincidences have been dealt with so nonchalantly, as if they are routine in a world of uncertainties, with characters constantly crossing each other’s paths without knowledge – Ayten and Yeter in the same shot unaware of each other, Lotte and Nejat living under he same roof but unaware of the common bond, etc. Interestingly many characters have a “relational” or central character who connects the threads of their lives – Ali is central to Nejat and Yeter, Ayten is central to Lotte and Nejat, Lotte is central to Susanne and Ayten (and Susanne and Nejat). This complexity, even though portrayed simply, makes the movie the sum of all its parts and more– and one can’t miss any scene or they would be suspended between the previous scene and the ensuing one. This underlying chain grips the viewer. Secondly, it depicts the fragility and resilience of relationships between its characters. Ali and Nejat have a fall-out, Lotte has clashes with her mother (who was very similar to her in her youth), Ayten and Susanne do not get along – but everything falls in place in due course of time.

The movie also treats two disparate cultures with sensitivity and a certain knowledge that could have only come from a director (Fatih Akin) who is of Turkish-German descent. Baki Davrak, who plays Nejat, is an outstanding actor. He has this tranquility which is essential to Nejat’s character – Akin’s projection of his own self partly. Nurgül Yescilay does justice to her role as Ayten with her misdirected enthusiasm for a cause, and seems to grow up like her character, as if she is really going through it all in her real life. Hanna Schygulla as Susanne, is simply marvelous – a mother who’s been there, and done it all, protecting her daughter from going down the road she took, mixing her love with a sagacity that comes with age, yet never dominating.

Somehow, as a viewer, one is always waiting for the pieces in the jigsaw puzzle to fall into place, but they never do. “It’s so darn close” is what one will inadvertently utter, and wish they all find what they seek. Even though they don’t much to the distress of movie puritans, it is somehow implied that things will be fine, and with that thought, one goes to sleep like a child after the movie ends.

I know this review is long (and unbearable), but trust me, I do no justice to the movie. If not for anything, watch it for its cinematography for which it won the coveted Cannes Prix du Scenario.