Gazelle: A Story That Could Be Yours Tomorrow

Throughout my professional life, I have written in many fields, from police reporting to war correspondence, from diplomacy to political commentary, but I had never written a film review before. In fact, what you are about to read is not a film critique either. These are the impressions of a journalist who is himself in exile and has lived a life similar to the one portrayed in the script. I ventured into writing about a field I had no prior experience in because, after attending the premiere of the film Gazelle last night, I felt it would be unfair to Nadir Sarıbacak and his team—who have produced a remarkable work—if I did not write something.

As I went to watch Gazelle, the first feature film written, directed, and starring Nadir Sarıbacak, I was already certain I would see a good film. After all, Sarıbacak had won numerous “Best Actor” awards for his performances in Uzak İhtimal and Sarmaşık, making him one of Turkey’s finest character actors. But I must give him his due—Gazelle represents a whole new level. Sarıbacak does not merely play the exiled music teacher Jacob; he lives him. He delivers a performance that speaks through silence and tells stories through his gaze. Where dialogue ends, his face takes over. Even in silence, his acting cries out. This film, in which hundreds of viewers in the theater found something of themselves, tells not just the story of one character, but the shared fate of millions: not belonging, not being understood, and slowly fading away.

The film met audiences last night in Washington, DC. It was sold out; afterward, there was a Q&A session with the cast. That’s the routine part. From here, it will be screened in Texas, Houston, Los Angeles, and Seattle, followed by a European tour. You already know the story. It tells the struggle for survival of hundreds of thousands of people victimized by the Erdoğan regime.

Let me say this upfront: mark your calendar for its screening and do not miss it.

Now, to the film. As I said, when Nadir Sarıbacak is involved, the work is already first-class. Once again, he does not disappoint. Co-written with Ayhan Hülagü, Gazelle confronts us with one of the most disturbing truths of our time: the invisibility of displaced people. At the center of the film is a music teacher. Once, he taught notes in his classroom, guiding children’s voices… Now, he is an immigrant lost in the crowds of New York–New Jersey, unable even to make his own voice heard. This rupture forms the film’s strongest vein. Because the issue is not just geography; it is the exile of identity, of the past, and even of a person’s belief in themselves.

Exile: Not Geographic, but Existential Destruction

While watching Gazelle, Bruno Catalano’s famous Voyageurs (Travelers) sculptures constantly came to mind. In those sculptures, there are people—but they are incomplete. Large parts of their bodies are missing. There is a void in between. Yet despite this, they continue walking, carrying a suitcase, trying to go somewhere.

Gazelle is precisely the story of that void. Exile fragments a person. One part of you remains in the past. Another part cannot hold onto where you have arrived. Jacob is such a character. Physically, he is there—in America—but part of his soul remains behind, in the place he was torn from.

That is why his walk is not just the walk of a migrant. It is the struggle of a diminished human being to remain standing.

Gazelle treats exile not merely as a political outcome, but as an existential rupture. Like the characters of Kafka, the film’s protagonist is innocent yet condemned. His “crime” is being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like Meursault in Albert Camus’ The Stranger, he is not alien to the world—the world is alien to him. Because the system chooses to categorize him instead of understanding him: “immigrant,” “refugee,” “other.”

New York: City of Freedom or Labyrinth of Loneliness?

The film takes place in New York (and partly in New Jersey). On paper, the capital of freedom. But Gazelle tells us something else: everyone is there, yet no one sees anyone. Loneliness within the crowd… This is the cruelest form of modern exile. As in Zygmunt Bauman’s concept of “liquid modernity,” everything is temporary. But for some, this temporariness is not a choice—it is a necessity. The grayness, noise, and chaos of New York add another layer of power to the film.

In a World Where Anti-Refugee Sentiment Is Rising

The film perfectly captures the spirit of our time. The rise of the far right in Europe, increasingly harsh immigration policies in America, endless wars in the Middle East… Today, being a refugee is not just about losing your home; it is about having to defend your humanity.

Hannah Arendt’s observation sums up the film:
“The right to have rights disappears together with statelessness.”

Gazelle stands exactly at this point. The character’s greatest struggle is not finding a job or surviving—it is being recognized as a human being. Let me add a small “good news” here: after the film, I asked Nadir Sarıbacak about his new project. I won’t spoil it, but another striking story similar to Gazelle is on the way. At a time when hostility toward refugees is rising, such films are invaluable.

This Is Not a Film, It Is Testimony

Gazelle is not a film to be watched and forgotten; it is a testimony. It tells the story of those who are exiled, silenced, and ignored in today’s world. Like Bruno Catalano’s incomplete sculptures… this film tells us: exile does not destroy a person—but it diminishes them. And the most painful part is that no country, no city, no system can restore what has been lost.

Unfortunately, the story of Jacob—brought to life so powerfully by Nadir Sarıbacak—is no longer an exception; it is becoming the norm.

As a journalist in exile myself, I can say this clearly: this film is also a powerful and shocking warning. If we continue to ignore these stories, one day we may all turn into a “Gazelle” character. Because exile is no longer a matter of geography. It is a matter of humanity. One day, anyone can become incomplete. What is merely a film for you today may become your life tomorrow.

Finally, Gazelle affected everyone deeply because we all know there are tens of thousands like the music teacher Jacob. All of them are innocent, all of them pure. As in Ahmet Arif’s famous line, they broke the hearts of people as delicate as flowers. I do not wish to say “may your garden never see spring,” but once you know that Jacob’s story is real, it becomes impossible to hold your tongue.

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