by mh musings
Kızıl Goncalar (internationally marketed by Global Agency as “Red Roses”) is one of the strongest, award-winning scripts out of diziland in recent years. Delving into the dramatic conflicts and parallelisms between a secular Atatürkist family in Istanbul and a fictious Sufi sect (fashioned after the many Sufi orders that co-exist in the country), the makers present a riveting story through how these two families are fatefully connected to each other.
Rich in dialogue that touch on existential and philosophical thought explorations related to life, mortality, morality, parenthood, childhood trauma, divinity, Islamic jurisprudence, fate, love, justice, politics and so much more, the story is masterfully brought to life by a stellar cast and production team. With beautiful cinematography and music selection capturing the milieu of the two opposing worlds, both the writing team led by Şükrü Necati Şahin, and production team led by Faruk Turgut of Gold Film, have outdone themselves in showcasing Turkish storytelling at its best.
Having concluded its first season with 19 episodes, this highly rated show is slated to come back with its second season on September 30th.
Plot
Kızıl Goncalar tells the touching story of orphaned Meryem, married off at 14 within an Islamic sect (“tariqa”), and how she becomes a relentless advocate for the emancipation of her intellectually gifted 16 year old daughter, Zeynep, from the sect’s restrictive rules. She wants to keep Zeynep from suffering the same fate as herself while Naim, her cruel, abusive and self-serving husband, pushes Zeynep to become the bride of the sect’s spiritual leader’s grandson, Cüneyd.
Guided by her sister-in-law, a former sect member, Meryem and Zeynep enter the lives of Kemalist psychiatrist Levent, in hopes of getting help in rescuing Zeynep. Unbeknownst to both Levent and Meryem, their lives are already connected through secrets of the past. This is deepened in present time as Levent is assigned to treat Cüneyd for his psychotic episodes, triggered by repressed childhood traumas.
As these two worlds collide, the viewers get incredible insight into both worlds as it becomes evident again and again that even though the two groups inhabit the same planet, they come from different worlds. Within that basic framework, we begin to question the thematic similarities and differences, human motivations and aspirations, and the assumptions upon which modern and traditional societies create their sense of justice.
In the interest of brevity, and to leave the reader with a mere flavor of what to expect, I will highlight some of the top notes of what drew me into this production. Especially at a time when Turkish productions are gathering notoriety for losing plot integrity while exploiting loyal audiences, the originality and authenticity of the storytelling in Kızıl Goncalar is commendable.
Women of Agency
Almost all the main female characters have agency and conviction for their beliefs and yearnings. Be it shaped by their life experiences, ambitions or idealistic dreams, they are all propelled by purpose.
Within the sect that call themselves Fanı (the Mortals), Zeynep’s purpose is to study and create educational opportunities for young girls in the tariqa. Meryem’s purpose is to save Zeynep from her marriage at any cost, pursue her education and keep her from living the fate she herself had suffered as a child bride. Müyessar, a spurned spinster who sees it as her God given responsibility to keep the girls and women tightly disciplined within the restrictive rules of the sect, is driven by ambition and power. Feyza, Cüneyd’s cousin and daughter of his paternal Uncle Sadi and Aunt Hasna who raised him upon his mother’s passing, is driven by her unhealthy obsession for Cüneyd. Hasna is driven by her arrogance and desire to remain the presumptive lady of the house. Nadire, ‘the other woman’, is driven by giving her son a chance at life.
Often their individual pursuits are at odds with each other but, amidst the power struggles and manipulations, they each pursue their goals with complete abandon.
A special mention for Birgül, Zeynep’s paternal aunt, who is a spitfire previously ostracized by her sect for pursuing her education. Played eloquently and convincingly by Sitare Akbaş, Birgül is a public proponent of feminism in Islam. Even though banished from her community, she does not abandon her faith in Allah, or her hijab, while she pursues her dreams. She lives the example of not needing the strength of community to be a good Muslim. She is eventually welcomed back into the sect and becomes a plot mechanism through which we see how allegiances and support from power mongers can change due to vested interests.
On the secular side, we have Hande, Levent’s younger sister. She risked estrangement from her highly regarded physicist father Suavi Alkanlı, and pursued her passion for journalism. A hard-core scientist, Suavi has no patience for his daughter’s rejection of the opportunities he made available to her. Hande, in an endearing performance from Duygu Sarışın, navigates the obstacles in her life with candor and sincerity. Mira, Levent’s adopted daughter who is unaware of her heritage, is driven by her sense of worthlessness in face of successful parents and lives with the insecurity that she doesn’t belong with them. We see her meandering, coming-of-age journey through her interactions with Meryem and Zeynep. Beste, Levent’s wife, is driven by her selfishness and willingness to fight for her perceived world, morality be damned.
Each and every character is well sketched out and just as we are enamored by the inner strength in the female protagonists from the sect, we are just as intrigued with the struggles in building relationships and finding their sense of purpose among the secular women.
Understanding the Order
One of the greatest draws for fantasy novels such as Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, is an education and understanding of the law and order of an alternate world. Until recently, dizis have been primarily focused on bringing stories from secular Turkey. So much so, that when I first started watching 7 years ago, I wondered if it was a conscious choice not to show the pious aspect of people’s lives even though majority of Turkey identifies as Muslim.
Gold Films started the trend of confronting the co-existence of the secular with the conservative religious families, first through Kızılcık Şerbeti and now through Kızıl Goncalar. OGM also addressed a part of it through their production Ömer, with less effect. Kızıl Goncalar goes deeply into the machinations of the fictitious mystic sect, including their proclivity to speak in Ottoman Turkish and make Sufi references both in their language and mannerisms. Their citations are deeply rooted in Islamic jurisprudence, something that has been erased from the Western interpretations of Sufi poetry. To discover aspects of their world in this fictionalized manner is fascinating.
We learn about how they nurture and control their community. There is a ‘time’ for many things, with Ottoman words to denote them. Vakt-ı Mekatıl is the ultimate punishment by the sect which dishonors a member publicly before banishing them. They have to either cut their hair or their beard. It is akin to how Japanese Samurai warriors also attached honor and/or allegiance to a leader through the preservation of their hair.
Vakt-ı Cidal is a time for debate while Vakt-ı Muaraza is a time for discussion over issues in dispute. In the series, Vakt-ı Muaraza marks a public forum where Sadi and Cüneyd compete over three questions related to the Sharia, the tariqa and the truth, with the three appointed ululars (“elders”) of the sect presiding to pick a winner.
Vakt-ı Vifak is an idiom that has deep roots in Turkish culture. It means approaching each other with understanding and sustaining the community in harmony. In the series, it is shown as the time of betrothal between a couple.
Special prayer sessions such as Istikhara is mentioned, as is the practice of Ölüm Rabitasi. Upon learning about it from Cüneyd, we see Levent perform Ölüm Rabitasi at a crucial moment, which is a contemplation of death or trying to taste death by closing one’s eyes and imagining the rituals and emotions around one’s death.
Interspersed through these concepts are many deep conversations between members of the sect and sermons from Sadi or Cüneyd, that also point to the philosophies the followers of the sect are meant to aspire to. The abundant references through words, practices, human choices and more, make the glimpses into such a world a highly instructive experience for a foreign viewer. It expands the understanding of Sufism beyond the simplistic, devotional image of whirling dervishes or the sanitized versions of Rumi’s poetry.
A Meeting Of Minds
Cüneyd and Zeynep represent many underage marriages that take place within tariqas, where a nikah performed by an imam is treated as a valid contract of marriage. This is still an unfortunate reality in many parts of the world even though it is illegal under state law in most countries, including other Muslim majority countries such as Turkey. Hence, the young couple’s pairing faces understandable backlash, both by characters in the show and its viewers. She is around 16 and he is in his early to mid-twenties. Due to this depiction, many complaints from the conservative right wing were sent into the Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK) and the show faced penalties in addition to a ban of two weeks after its second episode aired. Despite the controversy, the makers are steadfast in telling their story, which they claim is rooted in prevalent practices.
Based on Meryem’s experience with her forced marriage at age 14, and the many ways women are actively repressed within this fictitious sect, the relationship between Cüneyd and Zeynep is wrong on many levels. And yet, they are shown as equals with edified minds, both thirsty in their quest for knowledge and the desire for positive change in their worlds. They begin to understand each other well and are attracted to each other’s inner souls. Sometimes, this kind of a bond between twin flames, one that goes beyond a cliched romantic one, cannot be bound or defined by age or time.
This aspect of their connection is not shown to legitimize the underage marriage. On the contrary, it shows how Cüneyd learns to prioritize Zeynep’s opportunities to be had through education over his selfish desire to keep her as his partner. It shows how he gives Zeynep courage and empowerment to move away from the first protective male figure in her life who ‘replaces her father figure upon marriage’ so that they can open doors for girls in the tariqa to pursue education. He says, “your possibilities are beyond the limits of my world.” They are both willing to sacrifice their understanding of, and with, each other for the greater good of bringing positive change for girls in the sect.
Despite this central message around the inappropriateness of an underage marriage in the story, and the early controversy surrounding it, why is there such widespread adoration for the couple? Why are there some who criticize Meryem for ‘breaking them apart’? Why do so many want for their relationship to succeed? Part of it is rooted in a fixation with ‘dizi ships’ but much of it is in how their scenes are constructed as they help each other’s characters grow as people. The splendor of the scenes brought to life by two good looking, talented actors leads to the emotional and cognitive conflict between what seems right versus what we know to be wrong.
It starts with their first meeting of minds. Cüneyd is instantly intrigued when he walks in on Zeynep leafing through a book in his library, by Ömer Hayyam, a Persian polymath, mathematician, philosopher and poet. She immediately stands out among the girls at the tariqa, who are only taught the Qur’an and are discouraged from expressing their true minds. Soon after, he talks to Zeynep for the first time by asking her “if water does not flow in a fountain, is it still called a fountain?” And then he takes her to his mother’s grave, ‘where the waters meet’, and quotes a poem by Hayyam on their way there.
Of the many proposals for marriage he has purged, he agrees to Zeynep and he asks for an imminent formal engagement/vakt-i vifak. Something in her begins to trigger his earliest memories of his mother and the mystery surrounding her death. And, thus, Zeynep inadvertently pulls Cüneyd to her despite initial friction from his moments of insecurities and shaken ego when he understands she is not a willing participant in this marriage.
Post-engagement, during their first real private meeting at a community picnic, Cüneyd takes her to a spot in the park, away from the public’s prying eyes. We later come to know that the spot is a remnant from his fractured childhood memories with his parents. He enables her wish to get on a swing while he keeps watch, and he quotes Hayyam again, as he indulges her childish joy of swinging freely. The whole scene is pure art in its poetic form and directors Ömür Atay and Özgür Sevimli are simply magnificent in their cinematic vision and execution.
The question still remains: is the artistic presentation of their relationship a promotion of underage marriage? On the contrary, it is a presentation of a prevalent, unlawful practice and showcases the qualities that are expected from both the man and the girl to find a path out of it, even if the young couple falls in love in the process. When Cüneyd tries to explain his choices to Zeynep, he cites the parable of Cüneyd of Baghdadi who risked losing his eyesight to be able to perform ablution to say his prayers and says, “if I sacrifice my eyesight now, maybe the pain will pass someday.”
In an age when too much emphasis is put on fictional couples having physical chemistry with passionate display of their carnal desires, Cüneyd and Zeynep stand out as a couple with their mutual respect, understanding and care for each other, while both are deeply reverent of Islamic principles. Throughout the story, they both become more aware and accepting of why their present union is inappropriate and unsustainable. It is an important journey for the viewers, inviting them to think beyond the ‘ship’ culture that is rampant on social media platforms.
Parallelisms & Intersections
As the tale meanders through the secular world and the tariqa, weaving an intricate tapestry as the characters come to life, many themes have a parallel in both worlds. The most prominent is the notion of parenthood. We see a spectrum of qualities in mothers and fathers, and we learn that just being a birth parent does not automatically make one the best parent for a child. This is true for both Cüneyd and Zeynep, and their relationships with their fathers. Levent, a sterile man who only became a father through an illegal adoption, becomes the reliable father figure in the youngsters’ lives. He is the primary point of connection between the two worlds.
We also see how trauma defines life-changing choices. Cüneyd and Meryem harbor childhood wounds and it makes them both dogged in their own ways in how they pursue their goals. Sometimes it limits their vision of all the moving pieces.
Throughout the story we see a divergence in how they grow. While Meryem remains focused on Zeynep’s emancipation, whatever the cost to others or by ignoring Zeynep’s inner desires, Cüneyd takes a more worldly view and opens roads for both Meryem and Zeynep. He, who is fearful of being left behind, confronts his fears for Zeynep’s benefit. Meryem is unable to see beyond her fears and unmet desires, but Cüneyd pushes himself to understand and react to the true burden of responsibility upon his shoulders as the selected leader of the tariqa.
There is also introspection around what is justice in both worlds. While there is persecution of the sect for encouraging child marriages, we are yet to see the legal and moral persecution of Levent and his wife for their unlawful adoption of an abandoned baby from the hospital and keeping the baby from her birth mother even after they know the truth. For dramatic effect which the viewers discover early in the story, their daughter Mira is also connected by birth to the sect, Meryem and Zeynep. The self-righteousness of the secular world is yet to be fully taken to task.
The plot choices in how various issues of morality are traversed within both worlds, and at the intersection of the two worlds, showcase a masterclass in writing by Necati and his team. A pivotal scene capturing this intersection is when Levent’s father, Suavi, discovers the depth of brilliance Zeynep possesses.
Suavi is a known physicist and ex-statesman who was an active participant in the military referendum (post-modern coup) of February 28, 1997, that led to the resignation of the then Islamist prime minister Necmettin Erkaban. The coup was precipitated by growing dissent around the lack of separation between religion and state. Post-coup, several religious schools were shut down and tariqats were abolished. Public use of hijab was seen as a symbol of political Islam and was banned. This led to severe discrimination against hijab wearing women, who were eliminated from the public domain including employment, education and the services sector. In this scene, Zeynep uses a mathematical proof to show the equivalence between Suavi’s position from 1997 (criminalizing hijab wearing women) and that imposed by the tariqat’s spiritual leader (keeping hijab wearing girls away from formal, state education), making girls suffer either way. Such a powerful way to make the statement.
Literary References
The dialogue is replete with literary references from the Qur’an, hadiths, revered Sufis, Western literature (Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien is cited multiple times!), global philosophers, and even from Persian feminist poets. The quotes are well placed to illustrate keen, enlightened minds on both sides of the fence. This is another testament to the superb writing.
Cüneyd, a well-read philosopher and thought leader for his sect, provides the most breadth of citations, pulling from both his Islamic teaching and his understanding of the modern world and Western constructs. He questions systems of governance, social constructs, American liberalism, euthanasia, the morality of suicide and much more, while often quoting words of Western philosophers, poets, or drawing analogies. He blends in modern social trends as well and, at one point, he pokes fun at the TikTok culture by saying, “…created idiots who dance in front of the refrigerator and then publish it; and other idiots who watch it.”
There is no typecasting the characters as a black and white clash between the conservative and the liberal, the religious and the secular. As with any social system, there are fringe factions on both sides who prey on human insecurities and there are those who fight for justice. It is refreshing to be taken on a journey of exploring provocative concepts, while gaining insights into the assumptions in each school of thought. The conversations between Levent and Cüneyd are particularly deep and illuminating.
The work is clearly a result of deep research on both sides of the blurry lines. Makers have claimed working with a lot of consultants to build the fictitious world of the sect, and it shows. The extraordinary theme is in how the storytelling refrains from doling out a definitive moral judgement regarding what is ‘right’ versus ‘wrong’, except the idea of a child marriage. While the secular is clear in its indignant opinion on child marriage, the tariqa is shown to only accept the inappropriateness within broader society through the guilty measures in hiding it from the state law. However, through the many cultural and literary references, analogies, metaphors and introspective dialogue, there is an invitation for viewers to understand both sides of the coin.
For English speaking audiences, the viewing experience is enriched on the strength of good translations. Most of the free sites offering translated episodes are sadly lacking in grammar and the best translations may not become available until the show is sold in global markets. One hopes that will happen widely so that the world can gain a deeper understanding of some important aspects of Turkish social life in present times.
Performances
There are plenty of standout performances and it is a disservice to pick one over the other. The most complex role of Cüneyd is played regally by Mert Yazıcıoğlu. Known for his coming-of-age roles in projects like Iyi Oyun, Aşk 101, Karagül and more, this is a career defining role for Mert which has already garnered many awards. Playing a highly enlightened and spiritual young man, whose psyche is fractured due to repressed childhood memories and early trauma, Mert becomes Cüneyd as he weaves in and out of the vulnerabilities of the past and the responsibilities of the present. All this is while his position as the ‘chosen one’ and the heir apparent of the sect’s spiritual leader is challenged on multiple fronts. Whether it’s his growing relationship of mutual respect with Levent or his healing adoration for his child bride Zeynep, Mert’s Cüneyd captures a plethora of emotions through this controlled and meticulous performance.
Erkan Avcı is another who mesmerizes with his role as Cüneyd’s uncle Sadi and his main rival in this season. Özgü Namal, back on screens after 10 years, is relentless as Meryem and Mert Turak as the abusive, conniving Naim is brilliant. Özcan Deniz does well as the steadfast Levent and Mina Demirtaş as the young Zeynep is a breath of fresh air. Mina’s on-screen chemistry with Mert is well lauded by the audience.
A special mention for Şerif Erol as the cantankerous Suavi Alkanlı, who has an exceptionally keen mind that is decaying against his will and who feels trapped in his failing body as he struggles with muscular atrophy.
As this list quickly grows, suffice it to say that all the main characters have done more than justice to their roles and this story.
A Must Watch
Kızıl Goncalar is a thought-provoking series that compels the viewers to learn more about the political, spiritual, economic and social history of the country. It is a female-centric story and we see a world that revolves around their struggles, be it in the tariqat or in the secular world. Throughout the story, we see how lives of different girls and women evolve and how these buds are allowed to bloom or plucked too early. Roses enjoy important cultural significance in Turkish culture and is also known as the flower of Heaven in Islamic spirituality. The scent of the rose is associated with spirituality because it is considered to represent the soul. In Turkish art and literature, the flower captures the delicate balance of strength and tenderness. A woman is, similarly, a delicate balance of strength and tenderness; one who can be as much of a warrior as she can be a nurturer. Hence, the name Red Roses or Red Rosebuds, a most vibrant symbol of a living being, is an apt title for this deeply nuanced series that centers around the feminine journey, both from religious and secular points of views.
Even though it serves as the fulcrum, the narrative is not dominated by Cüneyd and Zeynep’s love story regardless of how popular their pairing is. We experience their highs and lows, and appreciate the character growth for both, but makers have kept a healthy balance of sub plots built around the various characters. This allows the story to evolve in a holistic way, giving due importance to every character for related and important reasons.
If there is one complaint, it is the all too obvious and cheesy product placements throughout the show. Among other things, it seems a terrible waste of the actors’ talents and the story. One only hopes the industry figures out a better advertising and revenue model, especially for shows that have great potential for international sales. Another small observation is that the role of Meryem would be stronger served by a younger actor because her character is supposed to be only 29/30 years old. The proximity of age between her, Zeynep & Cüneyd would have hit the point home better as to how a girl’s life is destroyed by these customs and how a young mother will and should fight everything to spare her child a similar fate.
The series completed its first season in mid-May, ending on a highly dramatic twist of an extremist rebellion shaking the tariqa to the core, with an ultra-conservative faction brutalizing their way into power while peeling back the progress Cüneyd made as an individual and as the sect leader. It is a perfect finale that is a culmination of many seeds planted along the way. The highly anticipated second season, which promises to start with a time skip, comes in the fall while viewers spend the summer asking, “Where’s Cüneyd?”
Ending this piece with a collection of epigraphs that mark the beginning of each episode in the first season. It provides good insight into the intelligence of the show. The selections by the authors capture the essence of the ensuing chapter well. For those of you who love nuanced Turkish storytelling and are yet to watch, I invite you to join this journey of enlightenment.
Article copyright (c) North America TEN & mh musings/ @entrespire, twitter
Serving as editor for North America TEN and writing under the pseudonym mh musings, mh has covered Turkish dizis and international drama since 2018. A great believer in the healing powers of the Arts, she does this out of her love for the written word. When not dreaming about human stories, she is immersed in the corporate world and her chaotic family life.
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