“Cinema has its own language. It doesn’t resemble your life, which usually flows past without a clear theme. But it can change your life. A good film can give you a different aspect on life, a new language and emotion, like any great literature can. I have been living with this film for a long time; I needed to watch it twice in a row. Zeki Demirkubuz’s Innocence had a big influence on the way I see the world; the way I see cinema, acting, world, innocence, childhood, poverty, pity, conscience, language, muteness. I will carry this film in my heart for years to come, like the poems and songs that I love. The girl’s eyes at the end of Tarkovsky’s Stalker, one of Mahler’s Songs for Dead Children, Vermeer’s light, Blake’s single vision, all will stand in close proximity to Ece Ayhan’s purple couplet.” Innocence opens a unique door in Turkish cinema, and can be seen alongside Erksan’s cinema of obsession. Zeki continually makes us read his film language, presenting his translation of the story into his own language. Just like great filmmakers, he writes his own idioms, avoiding Hollywood syntax. When Zeki catches unforgettable cinema moments, he achieves what he deserves; the fruit of his persistence, his petulance, and his obsessive love for his work. He looks into our eyes without thinking about bankruptcy and focuses on his own cinema and personal obsessions, just like Uğur who, for the sake of her love, pitilessly comes face to face with death. Zeki boldly shoots that ten-minute scene which is destined for the history books of Turkish cinema, in which he narrates Bekir’s life.