Mustang

mustang

The most nostalgic novel I have ever read, The Museum of Innocence, would not be near as effective nor feel downright brutal if it took place somewhere other than where it does. Turkish society is as important a player in the novel as the two lovers at its center, Kemal and Fusun.
And I notice that the same can be said of Mustang, a movie whose sadness lingers with you long after the credits have rolled and the screen turned to black.

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