Hakan Shahin

To avoid spoiling the plot, I’ll keep my review of Balconies concise yet precise. As an avid fan of crime and comedy genres, I was eager to watch this film. Its opening, reminiscent of Hitchcock’s Rear Window, immediately captivated me, drawing me into the story with enthusiasm. The mise-en-scène and cinematography, with fluid transitions between balconies, paired with the sequence of entering the house and Deniz’s fantastical murder of her husband, promised a riveting cinematic experience. Though the film establishes its feminist undertones early on, it progresses with remarkable balance and fluency up to a point. Character introductions are executed with finesse—neither excessive nor sparse, but perfectly measured. The neighbor’s son, the arrival of the third friend, and the car accident scene are concise, impactful, and well-crafted. Until minute 46, when the camera shifts from the boy’s house to Nicole and Ruby’s, Balconies excels in pacing, atmosphere, character development, storytelling, staging, and cinematography, all seamlessly aligned with its themes and setting, thoroughly engaging the audience. Tragically, at this juncture, the film’s cinematic and entertainment value unravels, giving way to an exaggerated, illogical feminist rhetoric that persists until the end. The second half feels as though it were crafted by a teenager swayed by radical feminist ideologies. Female characters are depicted as fleeing from men with a bizarre, overstated obsession with public exposure—many inexplicably shown walking bare-chested in the streets—while all male characters are portrayed as selfish aggressors. This is a profound disservice to the consultants, cinematographer, and crew who crafted an enthralling first half. I’m deeply disappointed by the film’s ultimate trajectory.