“I think Istanbul is a place queer people gravitate to”: Director Levan Akin on Crossing

In Levan Akin’s powerful follow-up to And Then We Danced (2019), taciturn, middle-aged Georgian woman Lia (Mzia Arabuli) meets a disaffected teen, Achi (Lucas Kankava) as she tries to track down her niece, a trans woman named Tekla. The two end up on an unlikely, ramshackle quest from Batumi to Istanbul, a place where, we are told, people go to disappear. Meanwhile, other characters, including a queer human rights lawyer and two children living on the streets, try to make their way in the city, as their stories overlap with Lia and Achi’s search. 

Just as And Then We Danced offered a complex love letter to Tbilisi, Akin’s new film beautifully captures the glorious sprawl of contemporary Istanbul, a city which works its spell in different ways upon its wonderfully flawed characters. He talks with us about his relationship with Istanbul, his depiction of marginalised people and why every film should feature dancing.  

You’ve described Crossing as being a love letter to Istanbul. What is your personal connection to the city and what does it mean to you? 

I was born in Sweden but my parents have Georgian heritage. But they were born in Turkey, so they are part of a Georgian diaspora. My grandparents lived in Turkey. We’d visit them in Istanbul and then we’d go on to Georgia. So, I’ve seen Istanbul in the 1980s, I’ve seen Istanbul in the 1990s, in the 2000s… It’s a city that’s always evolving and changing. I have a deep affinity for the city. I love Turkish music, which comes across in Crossing. 

What were the challenges filming in Istanbul? 

It’s such a rowdy city! So, it’s difficult not only getting filming permits but also capturing that spirit. Obviously, you can’t just film somewhere with real people, you have to have permission, while re-creating that Istanbul vibe. That’s very tricky and can be quite expensive so we had to resort to some guerilla tactics to make it work. 

In Crossing, despite its hectic nature, Istanbul is shown as a shelter and a refuge. 

Yeah. I met a lot of queer people there. When I made And Then We Danced I met several trans women who told me that they go to Istanbul for work. So that’s where I got the start of an idea for this film. I definitely think it’s a place queer people gravitate to. But it’s also a really big city so you can live whatever life you want to live. You can be anonymous in Istanbul. Which I think also fits this story. 

I read that in the research for And Then We Danced, you heard a touching story about a grandfather which fed into the writing of Crossing… 

And Then We Danced and Crossing are in some ways companion films. Crossing wouldn’t exist, in this shape, if it wasn’t for And Then We Danced. That film made me think about this intergenerational aspect, because of all the turmoil that happened with And Then We Danced [far right groups in Georgia picketed the release of the film]. There were lots of older generations finger-wagging, showing their homophobia. Then I heard this story about a Georgian grandfather, who wasn’t transphobic and who was his trans granddaughter’s biggest supporter. It inspired me to show that support in a film. 

Is it important for you to show scenes where queer characters, though marginalised, don’t face physically violent oppression? 

Yes definitely. That’s a deliberate choice. We chose to play with the tropes, like the final scene with Merab and his brother in And Then We Danced. To show that another reality that can exist.  

Because film is important. Film has power. Images have power, they inspire us to behave in different ways. In films like And Then We Danced or Crossing, we show these alternatives. For example, the taxi guy in Crossing [who offers the character Evrim a ride] is just a nice kid, who is just really charmed by her, they had a connection, you know. I hope this film can maybe inspire people to live their lives differently. To go with the flow. 

There are so many films with queer characters where I am like [winces at imagined violent scene] – I really hope nothing bad is going to happen. And then, it doesn’t, and I’m so relieved. Sometimes I’ll even ask my friends when they recommend a film and I ask, “is anyone going to get beaten up?” Because I want to know before. 

It’s important. I wish other filmmakers would acknowledge this. Of course there’s trauma in Crossing. But it doesn’t have to be on screen. 

What is the situation like for trans people in Georgia? Is it similar to the attitudes towards gay people or do they face other social and political challenges from other queer people? 

It’s worse. Especially for trans women. There have been many cases of femicide. They don’t really have a space in society and they live a very dangerous life. I hope people see this film and think twice but it’s very difficult. 

Do Lia and Achi represent different generational characters of attitudes in Georgia? 

Both of them are outsiders. Lia is a woman who, you feel, didn’t want to subjugate herself to a man. She’s not married, she doesn’t have kids. Which in Georgia is quite a big deal. It instantly makes you different. And then you have Achi, this boy who’s from another generation. In Georgia these kids are seen as not having real jobs or having any future. People think they just go to Techno parties and do drugs. 

Lia has attitudes from a different era. She says that Georgian woman used to be much more modest, but now they’re just trashy. But this younger generation sees the world so differently. They’re globalised in different ways from people who grew up during communism. 

Why did you decide to call the film Crossing? 

The original title of the film is ‘Passage’, and that’s still the title in Sweden. Then, for the international release, we changed it, because of [Ira Sachs’ similarly titled] Passages. Crossing was also a title I had considered quite early on. The characters are always in motion in the film. Crossing borders, the Bosphorus, east, west, gender, fluidity, it’s in every aspect of the film. 

Like And Then We Danced, Crossing is full of music and dancing. What is it that draws you to song and dance in your films? 

Body language expresses so much. And so much can be said without speaking. To me, dance is a form of communication. So, when the characters are dancing, instead of them finding reconciliation through speaking to each other, they do it through dance. I think it’s cinematically and visually more interesting. It reminds me of films I liked growing up, like Mamma Roma (1962). I love it when people just burst out singing. Music and dance should be part of all films. 

 ► Crossing is in UK cinemas now.