The documentary immerses the audience in the sound and experience of the independent, and as of yet, unknown music of emigrated Turkish "guest workers" and their grandchildren in Germany. The tone is humorous, critical and positive; whole passages feel like a mockumentary — if it wasn’t all real.
The soundtrack is a revelation, the camerawork a fast, wild (west) ride, meticulously through-composed from the striking and playful title design to the deeply researched original footage from the 1960s
Wirtschaftswunder, Germany’s post-war economic recovery, achieved only with the help of millions of Southern European immigrants, or hilarious 1970s TV shows.
While being utterly enthralled and entertained, you learn a lot about the intergenerational infrastructure the working-class Turkish diaspora built over the decades, taking us along for the ride via traditional music, rock 'n’ roll, disco, soft pop to hip-hop. Between cassette tapes and belly dance, wedding bands and gangsta rap, Bob Dylan and AC/DC, we encounter music as an outlet for political expression, staunchly narrated from the perspective of the newcomers finding themselves in a foreign culture ruled by the mythical
Deutschmark (and often told in heart-warming local German dialects that made my heart sing with longing for home).
Kaya knows what he is talking about when he tells this alternative post-war (hi)story in the form of a musical, making it visible and audible. His previous two films —the 2014 documentary "Remake, Remix, Rip-Off: About Copy Culture & Turkish Pop Cinema" about the Turkish Yesilçam film industry that remakes Hollywood blockbusters for the domestic market, a Locarno premiere; and the 2010 music doc “Arabeks”— delved into the socio-political power of music. Born in Bavaria in 1976, Kaya studied communication design and first worked as a producer, editor and director of commercials and music videos before moving into documentary. He also collaborated on the investigative documentary "77sqm_9:26min" about the reconstruction of the murder of Halit Yozgat by the neo-Nazi terrorist group NSU, which premiered at documenta 14. With “Love, Deutschmarks and Death," he is opening up a new subculture treasure chest that has largely bypassed mainstream German audiences to date.
An immensely seductive film, carried by infectiously driven music and succinct social commentary, full of dazzling protagonists —İsmet Topçu, Ömer Boral (the keeper of the earliest cassette tapes), Yüksel Ergin, Metin Türköz, Adnan Türköz, Yüksel Özkasap—, delivered along a cleverly montaged timeline of immigration as part of the fabric of German history and Europe today. I dare you not to get up and dance (and walk away and reflect a bit more).
At the end of the day, "Love, Deutschmarks and Death" is a documentary about protest, labour solidarity, anti-racism as well as joy and celebration we need right now. “I’m staying. F*** you."
by
@JuttaBrendemuhl
poster image courtesy filmfaust, Film Five
It took me less than five seconds to fall in love with Ismet. The lute virtuoso is as charismatic as he is eccentric, high-octane and a highly accomplished musician. “I dream that NASA calls me and says, Mr. Topçu, play your saz on the moon," he winks, likely only half joking.
