Director: Levan Akin Starring: Mzia Arabuli, Lucas Kankava, Deniz Dumanlı Running Time: 106 minutes
Crossing begins with an explanation that both Georgian and Turkish are gender-neutral languages. On both sides of the border, elderly Georgian teacher Ms. Lia asks after her niece, and the English subtitles afford us an acceptance of the missing woman’s gender that Lia herself hasn’t yet arrived at. It’s a linguistic quirk that helps with the generous, compassionate and thoughtful approach of And Then We Danced director Levan Akin’s latest.
Lia hasn’t seen or heard from niece Tekla in years, but it was her sister’s dying wish that she be found. With absolutely no info to go on, the stoic and stubborn woman seems prepared to knock on every door around the Black Sea, but she seems to catch a break when she meets a former student, whose bullied younger brother says Tekla “one of those trans girls”, went to Istanbul. Lovable loser Achi begs to accompany her into the city, claiming to have some Turkish and an address for Tekla, and with all the easy rapport of Nelson Muntz and Martin Prince in Shelbyville they set off on the search.
Meanwhile in Turkey, Evrim is on the cusp of getting a new ID to affirm her female identity. She’s a lawyer for a queer rights NGO, with her finger on the pulse of Istanbul’s busy streets, supporting the people on the fringes; trans sex workers, neglected kids, she’s a hero to the people and a pain in the ass to the cops. She seems like the kind of person Tekla could have needed. Between her day to day life and Lia and Achi’s tour through it, we get a ground level look at Istanbul’s trans community.
Lia is a chacha-swigging loner with little patience, least of all for her tagalong tour guide, but actress Mzia Arabuli gives her a grace that keep us on her side long enough for the depths of her character to unfurl. She grouses with a well-worn wit, building up a special kind of chemistry with Achi, a capable double-act. Lia is a mix of so many emotions, carrying her own guilt and her sister’s, her uncertainty but determination, and Arabuli reveals each layer with a compelling realness. Lucas Kankava gives a wide-eyed innocence to Achi’s obvious opportunism, his slumped posture and hangdog eyes making him closer to the street kids he shoos away than to the hostel hoppers he tried to drink with.
Deniz Dumanlı plays Evrim with such compelling confidence, a woman who knows who she is so strongly that she seeks to help out others. Scenes of her personal life add to the film’s looseness, but add warmth and a more layered look at her life and Istanbul’s city streets. It takes some time for all three to share the screen, but each lead character makes Crossing – by the end it’s hard not to be willing to die for any of them.
The search for Tekla is loose and meandering in the middle third. It isn’t the most focused, some subplots stronger than others, but it also allows us time to get to know our characters. Its also comprehensive and conscientious enough to present some fair questions – would Tekla want to be found? Is Lia ready, emotionally, for that reunion? The film is understanding, but honest, and avoids overly the sentimental avenues it could get lost down in the Istanbul streets.
Akin’s affection for these environments comes through, as does his ambition to use the characters to gently, kindly, explore why people emigrate, why families fall out, how found families forge. Some may find his direction too even-handed for its own good, but the hands are capable, and in Crossing they guide us through complicated conversations and bustling streets with assurance and empathy.
(4 / 5)