Put to the Things

The already complex connections of a group of artists living in İstanbul’s Cihangir district are becoming bizarre because of a camcorder entering their lives. A narcissistic director in which all the women are in love, two roommates connected by cable, a theater scene that can turn into a morgue concurrently, a nurse who resurrects the dead people, and a drug dealer who has no arms, sometimes the right, sometimes the left, sometimes both arms; these are protagonists of the experimental narrative that Onur Ünlü plays with time and space. The already complex connections of a group of artists living in İstanbul’s Cihangir district are becoming bizarre because of a camcorder entering their lives. A narcissistic director in which all the women are in love, two roommates connected by cable, a theater scene that can turn into a morgue concurrently, a nurse who resurrects the dead people, and a drug dealer who has no arms, sometimes the right, sometimes the left, sometimes both arms; these are protagonists of the experimental narrative that Onur Ünlü plays with time and space. The already complex connections of a group of artists living in İstanbul’s Cihangir district are becoming bizarre because of a camcorder entering their lives. A narcissistic director in which all the women are in love, two roommates connected by cable, a theater scene that can turn into a morgue concurrently, a nurse who resurrects the dead people, and a drug dealer who has no arms, sometimes the right, sometimes the left, sometimes both arms; these are protagonists of the experimental narrative that Onur Ünlü plays with time and space. The already complex connections of a group of artists living in İstanbul’s Cihangir district are becoming bizarre because of a camcorder entering their lives. A narcissistic director in which all the women are in love, two roommates connected by cable, a theater scene that can turn into a morgue concurrently, a nurse who resurrects the dead people, and a drug dealer who has no arms, sometimes the right, sometimes the left, sometimes both arms; these are protagonists of the experimental narrative that Onur Ünlü plays with time and space.