by John Noonan
Worth: $16.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Mzia Aranbuli, Lucas Kankava, Deniz Dumanli
Intro:
… a beautifully studied portrait of what connects us as humans across the spectrum of cultural backgrounds.
A death bed promise kicks off a journey of understanding and self-reflection in this emotional but tender film from Levan Akin (And Then We Danced).
Lia (Mzia Aranbuli), a retired Georgian teacher known for her steel-like visage, appears at the front door of a former student hoping to find Tekla, her trans niece who has been estranged for some time. While her own pupil cannot help, his brother, Achi (Lucas Kankava), claims to have the last known address of Tekla, who is now apparently residing in Istanbul. Reluctantly offering his support as a guide, mainly because he speaks a smattering of Turkish and English, the two set off.
Ostensibly a road movie, Akin, who also wrote the film, quickly shows the dichotomy between our two travellers. Achi, finally taking his first steps out of his village, is like Sam Gamgee in a tracksuit as he takes in everything around him, including people’s leftover food. However closed off Lia may appear, Achi’s attitude is clearly doing something to open her up. If this clash of personalities bordered by the Black Sea had been the sole plot of the film, the audience would be satisfied. But then, Akin introduces Avrim (Deniz Dumanli), a recently graduated trans lawyer who volunteers at Pink Life, an LGBT+ not-for-profit.
A largely separate narrative from Lia and Achi’s, Avrim is the entry point into the trans community of Istanbul. Avrim is shown as kind and resourceful to others while balancing her own issues. Suppose it’s not the dodgy financial loops she has to jump through to prove she is a woman. In that case, it’s the one-sided relationship she’s in with a man who refuses to be seen out in public with her. However, despite these bumps in the road, Avrim is shown to be a strong-headed woman who dodges the bullet of being the magical trans person who removes the scales from the eyes of the cis leads of Crossing.
One of the film’s strengths is its portrayal of personal growth. Akim doesn’t have Avrim solve what ails Lia and Achi; they have to do it themselves. The director provides moments where the odd couple air out their life’s grievances, whether it be Achi’s desire to escape his humdrum life without necessarily having the fortitude to do it or Lia’s acceptance that life has moved on so fast for her that she can’t remember when she stopped recognising the woman she sees in the mirror. All three performances are strong, with Dumanli and Kankava holding their own against the more seasoned Aranbuli.
Crossing bounces back and forth between the two plots as we see Istanbul’s close-knit trans community from the POV of those who live it day to day and those, like Lia, who are on the outside, usually refusing to look in. Its grounded portrayal of the community feels even more relevant with Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan recently branding 2025 the Year of the Family, where he encouraged citizens to protect the youth ‘from perverse ideologies’.
Dogwhistles aside, Crossing shows that people like Erdoğan don’t understand that family doesn’t just mean parents and their children. As it has been for a long time in the queer community, family is also who we choose. We see this in the people rallying around Avrim when she needs them, the people Achi seeks out as he starts spreading his wings in Istanbul, and how Lia begins to take him under hers.
A solid piece of work with a bittersweet ending, Crossing is a beautifully studied portrait of what connects us as humans across the spectrum of cultural backgrounds.
