Reha Erdem's Jin opens capturing the lush woodlands of the region, showcasing the tranquility of nature that is abruptly interrupted by the explosions and gunfire of the Turkish-Kurdish conflict. Jin, a 17-year-old girl, is a Kurdish guerrilla fighter in the conflict, stationed in the mountains. Jin doesn't have any desire to participate in this war, only wishing to run far away and seek refuge elsewhere. Much of Reha Erdem's Jin is a quiet and meditative experience, as we follow this young Girl journey across the countryside. Traveling alone, Jin routinely finds herself harassed by the local men, fighting like an animal to preserve her innocence. Through her journey nearly every person Jin comes across is greedy or violent, with Jin finding solace in the tranquility of nature. Nature is this calming presence throughout this film, with Jin forming a bond with the animals around her. Nature provides Jin a type of protection that humanity doesn't, but unfortunately this doesn't last. The connection with nature and humanity is a major theme throughout Reha Erdem's Jin, with the film arguing that humanity is much more violent and selfish than nature at its most brutal. Nature represents a place of calm and tranquility for Jin, representing this youthful innocence which she is fighting to maintain. Jin is one of those films that showcases what cinema is all about - a visual experience. The cinematography is absolutely stunning, with very little dialogue or conventional plot the film relies heavily on visual story-telling. Nature is Jin's escape, representing her innocence but the violence of humanity routinely comes into this tranquil world in abrupt ways. This calmness and silence of the natural terrain makes the violent outbursts in Jin incredibly startling and all the more intense when they happen. This gives Jin a great sense of unease and uncertainty throughout its running time, creating an effective and tragic tale of human conflict.
Love of all things cinema brought me here.