Two Allies, Two Angles
New Film in Turkey, America's '24' Reflect Uneasy Relations, Divergent Perspectives

By Karl Vick
Washington Post Foreign Service
Tuesday, February 14, 2006

ISTANBUL -- In "Valley of the Wolves: Iraq," U.S. soldiers shoot small children at point-blank range, harvest kidneys from Iraqi prisoners for shipment to Tel Aviv, blow a Muslim cleric out of his minaret and, to top it all off, display utter contempt for Turkish foreign policy. The feature film set a box office record in its first weekend, after opening in more theaters than any movie in Turkish history.

Meanwhile, the American television series "24" did not open at all in Turkey last fall, despite high ratings over the three previous seasons for agent Jack Bauer and the swashbuckling Counter-Terrorist Unit. The problem: In season four, the terrorists intent on destroying America were Turks.

"It's kind of like firing missiles at each other!" Yasar Aktas said of the pop culture war now playing between the United States and Turkey. The unemployed cook was one of 1.75 million people who saw "Valley of the Wolves" in its first six days in Turkey. It opened last week in Europe, where the U.S. Army issued a notice warning U.S. service members to stay away from affected multiplexes and "to avoid getting into discussions about the movie with people you don't know."

That two NATO allies that often speak of mutual respect regard each other so darkly on-screen says a good deal about the uneasy state of relations between Turkey and the United States, each of them proud, a bit insular and deeply concerned about the war in Iraq. But as protests roil an Islamic world deeply offended by caricatures of the prophet Muhammad, whose depiction the faith forbids, the state of entertainment in Muslim Turkey also offers a lesson in how easy it remains for cultures to talk past each other, even -- perhaps especially -- in an era of global satellite communication. It's hard seeing eye to eye when perspectives are profoundly different.

None of the atrocities in "Valley of the Wolves," for instance, shocked Ulas Aker in the least.

"These are things we knew were going on anyway," the cafe owner said, pulling on his suit coat as he emerged from a Thursday matinee in downtown Istanbul, where the movie was playing in 63 of the city's 72 theaters.

U.S. troops strafing an Iraqi wedding? It was two years ago that Turkish newspapers splashed news of an aerial bombardment of a wedding that U.S. commanders insisted was a gathering of insurgents. "Johnny, this is not the chief terrorist," the daily Sabah wrote sarcastically, beside a photo of a musician. "They call him santor . He makes music."

Organ harvesting? Aker said he had heard rumors, and in the movie's surgery scenes, a stocky female American soldier strips Iraqi soldiers for stacking in a human pyramid.

If anything weighed on Aker as he left the theater, it was the movie's pace.

"We both thought there'd be more action," said his companion, Erkan Basyildiz, 26. "I was completely addicted to the series."

The TV series that inspired the movie was distinctly Turkish. Its protagonist, Polat Alemdar, was an agent of Turkey's "deep state," the elusive, quasi-fascist network said to remain permanently in Turkey's official establishment while elected governments come and go. The deep state sees its mission as guarding Turkey's national essence, even if that means commingling with unsavory elements in ways that could only be guessed at until, as actually happened in 1996, the passengers involved in a car wreck turned out to include a police commander, a mafia chief and a former beauty queen. On the TV show, Polat once kissed Sharon Stone.

He moved to the big screen to avenge the notorious events of July 4, 2003, which went largely unnoticed in the United States. That day U.S. troops arrested a team of Turkish special forces in northern Iraq. The Turks were smuggling arms to ethnic brethren squared off against the Kurds, who were allied with U.S. forces already deeply miffed at Turkey for denying the U.S. 4th Infantry Division an invasion route from the north. Photos of handcuffed Turks with bags over their heads deeply humiliated and angered the Turkish public.

"This attack is not against us but against the Turkish nation," one Turkish commander intones in the film. Another blows his brains out in shame.

But the film also reflects deep skepticism about U.S. intentions, which opinion polls show is common among Muslim countries. In one scene, a man wearing the black coat, fedora and earlocks of a Hasidic Jew gets up and walks out of a restaurant moments before Polat reveals that the place is wired to explode. The moment slyly evokes not one but two conspiracy theories often heard in Muslim societies: that no Jews died in the World Trade Center because they had warning, and that Israeli agents are hard at work in northern Iraq, helping the Kurds.

The villain is an U.S. Special Forces commander (Billy Zane) who keeps a mural of the Last Supper on his office wall and declares, "I am the son of God." His snarling, homicidal A-team, wearing gold chains and mohawks, are only the most aggressive Americans in a movie that relentlessly reinforces the image of the United States as a country in love with killing.

"Unfortunately, that is the perception, rightly or wrongly, and this perception is fueled by the European perception as well, which is not too much different," said Mehmet Ali Birand, a prominent Turkish columnist and anchorman, who said he admired the filmmakers. "They have played with the inner feelings, unsatisfied feelings of Turkish public opinion, and they are making money."

Yet Turkish audiences also flocked to "24," the sleekly breathless Fox network series -- starring Kiefer Sutherland as an anti-terrorism agent -- that is anchored firmly in the premise that it is America that's under attack.

The first three seasons aired in Turkey on CNBC-e, which like several private channels here relies on American series and movies for the bulk of its programming. Most of the shows air here at least a year after appearing in the States. Last year, that lag was filled by the complaints of Turks living in the United States, incensed that last season's terrorist conspiracy was quickly traced to Ankara.

"Is this the way your network treats our allies and friends?" Fulya Ziegler, a viewer of Turkish descent, wrote Fox.

Compounding the offense, the apparently Turkish characters were played by Hispanic and Iranian actors. And one episode equated the Arabic and Turkish alphabets, even though Turkish is written in Roman letters. (The devil really is in the details. In "Valley of the Wolves: Iraq," the helmets on U.S. troops look like thimbles, their Humvees have acquired power windows, and the sign at a base entrance reads not "Dim Brights" but "Turn Off the Far Light.")

"It is impossible not to look for a hidden intent in this, especially after the recent developments," a Turkish national asserted on an Internet message board CNBC-e set up to help decide what to do about "24." Based on the negative comments, the station opted against airing the series last autumn.

But channel spokeswoman Siren Uludag said that decision was reviewed after other viewers piped up to say they had grown attached to the series. One viewer pointed out that the terrorists who detonated four car bombs in Istanbul in 2003 were, after all, Turks.

"We decided to air the series at the end of March," Uludag said.

Completing the exchange, the producers of "Valley of the Wolves: Iraq," with a budget of $10 million the most expensive film ever made in Turkey, say it will be released in the United States at some point. The film's on-screen credits are in English, as is a version of its Web site, http://www.kurtlarvadisiirak.com/ .

One thing the site also featured -- but quickly removed -- was an advertisement offering help obtaining U.S. residency.