A Better Tomorrow

In a near‑future where the state has codified the most intimate of decisions, assisted suicide is legal—but only for those whose hearts remain unclaimed. The law is a quiet, clinical promise to those who have reached the end of their own tolerance, yet it carries an unexpected clause: anyone loved by another person is barred from the procedure. Ozan, a young man whose world has collapsed under the weight of a devastating heartbreak, drifts toward that final option. The city around him hums with the sterile efficiency of bureaucracy, its sky a perpetual overcast that mirrors his own gloom, while the quiet corridors of the Department of Voluntary Termination feel both sanctuary and prison.

When Ozan’s application is abruptly denied, officials reveal a single, startling fact: a woman named Ekin is in love with him, though he has never known it. The revelation shatters his fragile certainty, turning a bureaucratic rejection into a profoundly personal enigma. He is thrust into a maze of paperwork, appointments, and reluctant counselors, all while wrestling with a lingering, painful yearning that he cannot fully name. The society’s cold compassion forces him to confront the paradox of being simultaneously free to end his life and bound by the unseen threads of another’s affection.

Compelled by both desperation and a flicker of curiosity, Ozan sets out to locate Ekin, hoping to untangle the knot that holds his fate in suspension. The search becomes a quiet pilgrimage through familiar streets and uncharted emotional territory, where each encounter hints at the possibility of redemption, regret, or a new kind of surrender. The film’s tone stays poised between melancholy and a faint, stubborn hope, inviting the audience to linger on the spaces between love and loss, autonomy and interdependence, without ever revealing whether Ozan will succeed in convincing the woman—or himself—to relinquish what binds him.

Last Updated: August 20, 2025 at 17:43