Following the traces left over from the 176-year history of mining in Zonguldak, Turkey's first coal basin, the documentary ranges from forced labor laws to the 1991 Great Miners' March, from abandoned workers' towns to the miners working underground today. A reflection of a journey from stove to table, from disasters to solidarity... The documentary does not include the dangers faced by miners; They have jokes, they have relationships with each other, they have dreams, they have fatigue, they have fears...
We talked about "Mukellef" with Sarıgün.
-What was the inspiration for the documentary?
It was the indescribable grief that I, like all sensitive citizens, experienced after the Soma disaster. I wanted to heal this grief and turn it into a word, an expression, with a film made on behalf of the workers. And since I am from Zonguldak, there were lines from Grup Yorum's song "Madenciden" that were obsessively revolving around in my mind: "For years, I have been swinging a pickaxe in this dungeon, silently, so that my children would laugh. However, there is no one laughing in our house."
These verses have always seemed very harsh and sad to me. They directly express the gloom of Zonguldak. It was all these feelings that encouraged me and my close friend Mehmet Erkmen from Zonguldak to make a film about the miner.
-Why "Taxpayer"?
“Liability” is the name of a very heavy truth in Türkiye's history. This system, which was implemented both between 1867-1921 and 1940-1947, condemned the Zonguldak villagers who did not consent to working under very harsh conditions in the mines, and any male who could hold a gun, to work underground instead of military service.
This system not only makes the entire geography physically sick, but also makes the villagers increasingly dependent on the mine. Men work in the mine under harsh conditions with their children for six months; Most of the time, they are rewarded for their labor in the form of supplies rather than money. Since they cannot take the food to their village, which is 15 kilometers away, they sell it to loan sharks near the mine for half its value and convert it into cash. Women remain in charge of the land. Families have to pay taxes because they own land; The state wants this tax in cash. Thus, the villagers become increasingly landless and completely dependent on the mine.
We found the name "Mukellef" appropriate for our film because it expresses very well the legacy of this entire heavy dispossession process through the Zonguldak mine worker, who was given no other existence than the mine. The film does not tell the historical process, but tries to look at the helplessness of today's miners through the weight of that history.
RUSTING STEEL...
-How did it come about? When did you start?
The documentary actually started two years ago when we went to the Zonguldak basin to do research for the movie script. We talked to unionists and engineers. I started taking small shots in abandoned mine sites. Iron, rust, stone houses swallowed by the forest. That feeling of abandonment. Unfulfilled dreams... While walking around Zonguldak with my mother, she recently said: "Do cities get tired? Look, cities get tired too. It's not like getting old." Then the following text that we used in the documentary appeared: "Mining cities are manufactured. Mining cities are left as they are when coal runs out. They are not even dismantled. 120-year-old steel rusts. The forest swallows old stone buildings. Ruined houses and the ghost of the happy workers' town remain as an unrealized possibility..."
But of course, the film did not remain this abstract; as we went into the mine and spent time at the same table with the miners, we realized that the mine and the miner could honestly express their own truth without the need for any poetic and abstract expressions. More effortless than all our efforts. Then I tried to match the camera's gaze to the miner's gaze. Documentary; Rather than the coldness of documentation, it is an effort to make the worker the object of self-expression or his way of seeing. I think we were able to establish that sincerity relationship because we shot with only two people and used a modest camera.
-You also entered the mine. Wasn't it difficult for you?
Of course it happened. It is very difficult to go down to the mines. You reach the areas where coal is mined by passing through wet, steep and low galleries. It's very cramped and gloomy inside. This is a physical space that strongly imposes its own existence on people. I think we all fell two or three times on the way in and out.
-So, did the people managing the mine cause any difficulties for you?
We went to private mines through our local acquaintances Okan İbik and Şen Tatar. Without them, we wouldn't be able to shoot so easily. You cannot go down to the mines in the mines within the Turkish Hard Coal Corporation anyway; You need to use different equipment. We tried to get permission from the Ministry of Energy for a year to shoot on the surface area, but we could not get an institutional permission.
'ON BEHALF OF THE WORKING CLASS'
-How did it feel to receive the Golden Orange award?
We were very touched to hear the following reasoning of the jury members in Antalya, one of the most sparkling showcases of Turkish cinema:
"The director, who established the atmosphere of a world that has been condemned and stuck in darkness for centuries through friendship, solidarity and common memory, conveyed with the language of realistic cinema that the pain and losses experienced are not due to the nature of the work, but to preventable negligence. While the documentary combines the power of cinema to witness, question and transform with an impressive visual expression, it manages to preserve the belief in a bright future despite all the losses. As the strong equivalent of labor, solidarity and hope in cinema..."
The fact that the narrative of the film, its emotional burden and the idea of solidarity we proposed at the end spread to other people in such a clear and sincere way put us in an indescribable emotional climate even before we went on stage to receive the award. It was very meaningful for me to receive this award on behalf of the Turkish working class, which we have had a hard time seeing in cinema lately.
'IF THERE WERE NO WOMEN THE DOCUMENTARY WOULD REMAIN INFLATE'
-There is also a special place reserved for women in the documentary. What was the reason for this choice?
My advisor, writer Muzaffer Oruçoğlu, warned me about this. He has a four-volume book called "Grizu" on Zonguldak mining history. We are even working on a movie adaptation of it.
In the mines, pain is often defined through men. However, it is always women who remain in charge of the land and who are tested by the pain of death and try to survive alone. With their wisdom and perseverance, women keep men alive and strive to repair man's relationship with the land. In Zonguldak, as in all of Turkey, women's visible and invisible labor covers the cost of maintenance required for capitalism to build itself. That's why if it weren't for women, the documentary would be bland.
