Following his Oscar-nominated The Teacher’s Lounge, newly-minted Golden Bear winner İlker Çatak’s Yellow Letters (orig. Gelbe Briefe) is less a family drama than a study in artistic paralysis under political pressure.
Jury president Wim Wenders announced the award by stating that the feature speaks up about “the language of totalitarianism as opposed to the empathetic language of cinema,” and evokes “signs of despotism” in the near future that “could possibly happen in our countries as well.” His remarks resonated with recent events surrounding the festival and took on added significance in light of the film’s victory.
“Yellow letters” refer to the official notification papers used for administrative correspondence, which become the catalyst for the artist couple at the centre of the story. Derya (Özgü Namal) is a renowned stage actress with national recognition, supported by her partner Aziz (Tansu Biçer), who teaches dramaturgy at an academy and writes scripts for her performances.
What appears to be a successful moment in Derya’s career is disrupted when she refuses a request from an anonymous official to take a photograph after the opening night. This seemingly minor act directly leads to a chain of unexpected consequences for the couple.
Events unfold like a sweeping storm. Aziz is the first to be affected, receiving notice of his suspension along with several colleagues. A provocative statement he made was secretly recorded by one of his students and later used as evidence in charges of sedition.
The repercussions soon reach Derya, whose rehearsal is abruptly cancelled and who is banned from returning to the stage. Forced into a corner, the couple travel back to Istanbul and stay temporarily at their parent’s home.
Their situation remains bleak upon returning to their original family environment. Burdened by debt, Aziz takes on work as a taxi driver, while Derya performs in a small local theatre, waiting for a potential opportunity promised by a casting agent. Amid this prolonged crisis, the external political pressure gradually shifts into an internal family drama, revealing how the couple react to the mounting forces imposed upon them.
Namal and Biçer form a compelling duo, conveying the intensity of their relationship both as spouses and as artistic collaborators when conflicts erupt. Namal precisely captures the character’s double life as both a professional actress and an ordinary wife once the mask is removed. She conveys the vulnerability and precarity of her position as a woman while asserting her subjectivity through her interactions with Aziz.
Biçer portrays Aziz as a mildly egotistical yet controlling figure. When his career is threatened, rather than resisting openly, he withdraws from confrontation in a manner characteristic of many intellectuals.
As a Turkish-German director, Çatak draws on his experience of migration by juxtaposing the two countries through spatial parallels such as “Berlin as Ankara” and “Hamburg as Istanbul,” further hinting at a critique of contemporary Turkish politics. However, the socio-political background remains deliberately vague throughout the film.
Although elements such as civil rights protests and struggles for justice among intellectual and LGBTQ communities are present, these broader developments often feel detached from the couple’s personal trajectory, which is primarily driven by the policies of an increasingly authoritarian government.
As a result, the narrative manifestation of political events far outweighs their emotional impact on the characters. This becomes particularly evident in the Istanbul section, where much of the narrative is unnecessarily prolonged.
What we ultimately witness is the couple’s attempt to endure rather than actively resist the loss of their rights. The escalating crisis gradually gives way to a more straightforward depiction of everyday life.
Even after a fierce argument in the car, their emotional collapse is redirected toward repairing their fractured family, culminating in the temporary disappearance of their wayward daughter (Leyla Smyrna Cabas). Yet this moment of crisis does not lead to any decisive transformation. In the end, Yellow Letters, despite its overtly political premise, struggles to transcend the conditions of oppression and injustice depicted in the story.
In this sense, Yellow Letters represents a relatively moderate choice by the jury: neither as politically radical as it might have been, nor detached from political realities. The film raises a question particularly relevant to artists and filmmakers: how should creative individuals respond to mounting political pressure, and to what extent should they defend their artistic integrity while maintaining the conditions necessary for everyday survival?
Contrary to Wenders’ remarks at the opening press conference, the answer seems apparent by the film’s conclusion: filmmakers should not -- and in fact cannot -- remain outside politics. Instead, they must respond through their creativity, sensitivity, and active engagement. Only then can they sustain the meaning of their lives as artists.
The film enjoyed its world premiere at the 2026 Berlinale.