A patient, formally daring work — the cinematography lingers on empty rooms longer than most audiences will tolerate, but those who stay are rewarded with the most haunting final act of the year.
Jiyana Rewsenbireki Kurd: Casimê Celîl
"To remember who he was and where he came from, every morning he repeated the mantra "My name is Casim, I am the son of Celîl, I come from the village of Kızılkule in Digor, I am a Kurd, and I am Yezidi""
Casimê Celîl was born into a Yezidi Kurdish family in 1908, in a village called Kızılkule, located in Digor, Kars. The village and family life, which he longed to remember throughout his life, ends with the massacre they endured in 1918. During his long road to Erivan, Armenia, he lost all his family members. Left all alone, Casim was placed into an orphanage and was forced to change his name. To remember who he was and where he came from, every morning he repeated the mantra “Navê min Casim e, Ez kurê Celîlim, Ez ji gundê Qizilquleyê Dîgorê me, Ez Kurdim, Kurdê Êzîdî me”, which translates to: “My name is Casim, I am the son of Celîl, I come from the village of Kızılkule in Digor, I am a Kurd, and I am Yezidi”. He clings to every piece of his culture he can find, reads, and saves whatever Kurdish literature or art he comes across. As the year’s pass, Casim finds himself with an impressive collection of Kurdish culture and history.
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Critics & Reviews
3 featuredI walked in expecting another genre exercise and walked out feeling like I'd been eavesdropping on a confession. The lead performance is genuinely singular — a career-defining turn.
A few too many scenes feel borrowed from a better film, but the soundtrack and the production design carry the rest. Solid recommendation for fans of slow-burn European thrillers.







