KEDI (2017
Directed by Ceyda
Torun
Oscilloscope
Laboratories, 79 minutes, Not-Rated (a saint couldn’t object)
In Turkish with
subtitles (but very little dialogue)
★★★★
If you’re in need of a smile and some metaphorical warm
fuzzies, the Turkish documentary Kedi
will make you purr. The very title sounds like “kitty,” and that’s what this
documentary is about. Its subject is street cats in Istanbul, but fear not: these
are not pussies in peril. Kedi casts
its spotlight on the unique love affair between Turks and its assorted toms and
tabbies. It’s also a small slice of anthropology in that it highlights several
significant differences in how Turks and Westerners relate to cats.
Those departures begin with how cats are raised. Like so
many things in the West, a cat is a possession—at best a pampered houseguest;
at worst a disposable commodity to be given away or sent to the pound if it
doesn’t “work out” or no longer fits our lifestyle. Residents in Istanbul don’t
possess cats; they are possessed by
them. Cats are community responsibilities, even when the beastie in question
chooses to reside in a particular place. A neighborhood cat is literally so.
Fishmongers just scratch their heads when a marauding moggy pilfers a sardine
or two from their stalls. More likely still, the vendors preemptively toss a
few into their path.
This highlights another difference: Turks celebrate the cat’s
intrinsic wildness, not its domestication. Mousers generally roam free in
Istanbul, regardless of whether or not they tend to bed down at a particular
domicile. In the film, numerous people wax eloquent about the essential nature
of cats and their abiding respect for those traits. They see the world, with
all its perils and curiosities as a cat’s to endure and explore.
One aspect of this might trouble Westerners: Turks seldom
spay or neuter their furry friends. Because cats are intact and free to roam,
Istanbul has a lot of them—as in a whole kit and kaboodle. Quite a few are
feral or semi-feral, but even the more settled females are likely to drop their
litters just about anywhere. If anything happens to the mother, only luck can
help the kittens. Fortunately, because Turks so revere cats, there are lots of
people who make it their job—for reasons ranging from altruism to
self-therapy—to feed street cats and rescue abandoned kittens. In Istanbul,
numerous individuals roam the neighborhoods with plastic bags filled with
kibble and chicken bits to feed hungry felines.
This is an utterly charming film. To be honest, it’s at best
a two-trick Felix. Its overall theme is that Turks like cats. Want a subtheme?
Okay, Turks really like cats. They like them so much that they worry
that Istanbul’s rapid modernization and proliferation of high rises encroach
upon the city’s street cat culture.
Kedi sends simple
messages and does it well. Sure, it’s basically an extended Internet cat video,
but Kedi is a happy way to pass 79
minutes. You can curl up on a cold winter’s night—perhaps with persnickety puss
on your lap—and goofily grin as you watch cantankerous critters prowl, meow,
submit to petting, and—as is their way—scowl and bugger off. As your cat sighs
in disgust and jumps from your reach, you can ponder the cat’s most brilliant
magic trick: giving us so little and commanding so much in return.
Rob Weir
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