
Nejat İşler
Yılmaz

Two brothers Yılmaz and Müjdat, who have grown up in an orphanage, are inherited a car body repair shop from Nuri and İsmet who were like fathers to them. One night they take an old grumpy man's car to couple of streets away. In the middle of the night, when they are hotwiring the car, the old man's heart can't take it. Thus, their short journey now leads them to somewhere unknown. One thing leads to another, now Yılmaz and Müjdat have to put the old man's dead body into a thinner solvent tank. The duo keeps painting the cars in their shop but they realize that the thinner they take from the tank with the dead body is giving amazing results. That "a couple of streets away" now leads to something really odd.
I’ve seen this trick before. A film starts with a premise that promises chaos—two orphaned brothers, a dead body dissolved in industrial solvent, a car repair shop doubling as a crime scene—and then fumbles the execution. The Garage (Tamirhane) is no exception, but what makes it fascinating isn’t whether it succeeds as a comedy (it doesn’t, really) but how it exposes the fault lines between its ambitions and its reality. It’s a film that wants to be both a dark farce and a tender portrait of found family, and in the collision, something stranger emerges: a movie that feels like it was made by committee, yet still carries the stubborn, messy imprint of its creators.

Erkan Kolçak Köstendil, the director, is best known for his role in Çukur, a Turkish crime drama where he played Vartolu Sadettin, a character defined by his volatility and charisma. That energy doesn’t translate smoothly to directing, at least not here. The Garage lacks the rhythmic precision of a well-oiled farce, the kind where every beat lands with the snap of a well-timed punchline.
Instead, it lurches between tones—one moment, it’s a slapstick chase with a dead body in the trunk; the next, it’s a quiet scene of two brothers sharing a cigarette, their faces half-lit by the flicker of a neon sign. The problem isn’t that the film can’t decide what it wants to be; it’s that it doesn’t seem to trust its own choices. When Yılmaz (Nejat İşler) and Müjdat (Rıza Kocaoğlu) realize that the solvent they’ve been using to dissolve their problem is also giving their paint jobs an uncanny, almost supernatural sheen, the film leans into the absurdity—then immediately undercuts it with a sudden, jarring shift to pathos.
It’s as if the script is afraid of its own premise.
"A niche Turkish ensemble comedy that plays best for fans of its cast."
The Garage (2022) is a comedy directed by Erkan Kolcak Kostendil, built around an ensemble including Nejat Isler, Riza Kocaoglu, Merve Dizdar and Bulent Sakrak. It's a cast-driven, low-key watch rather than a broad breakout; the appeal is the ensemble interplay and familiar faces for anyone who follows Turkish comedy.
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Erkan Kolçak Köstendil, best known for his magnetic performances in Turkish television, stepped behind the camera for The Garage (2022), a film that promised to showcase his versatility. While details about the production remain scarce, latestnetflix.com contends, the project stands out as a bold move for an actor-turned-director with a reputation for intensity.
The Garage assembled a powerhouse cast, including Nejat İşler, Rıza Kocaoğlu, and Merve Dizdar—all heavyweights in Turkish cinema. İşler, in particular, has a history of delivering raw, unfiltered performances, while Dizdar’s recent international acclaim (including a Cannes Best Actress win for About Dry Grasses in 2023) hinted at the film’s potential depth. The supporting lineup—Bülent Şakrak, Ali Seçkiner Alıcı, and Erkan Can—further suggested a project with serious dramatic weight [TMDB].
But why this cast? Köstendil’s background as an actor might explain the trust he inspired. His breakout role as Vartolu Sadettin in Çukur proved his ability to command complex, morally ambiguous characters, a skill that likely translated to directing. Whether The Garage leaned into crime, drama, or something darker remains unclear, but the talent involved telegraphed ambition.
In a 2022 interview, Köstendil hinted at his philosophy: "For cinema, we must take risks. Stepping aside feels like betrayal." While he didn’t explicitly name The Garage, the timing aligns with the film’s production window. His transition from acting to directing wasn’t just a vanity project—it reflected a desire to push boundaries. Given his screenwriting credits, it’s plausible he shaped The Garage’s script himself, though no confirmation exists.
The film’s premise—a garage setting—suggests a contained, character-driven story, possibly with thriller or noir elements. If Köstendil’s acting style is any indication, expect tension, sharp dialogue, and a focus on flawed, compelling personalities.
Despite the star power, The Garage flew under the radar. No major festival premieres, no splashy press tours, and minimal behind-the-scenes coverage. Was this intentional? A low-key approach to let the work speak for itself? Or did the film struggle to find its footing? Without reviews or interviews, it’s hard to say.
Rumors swirl about on-set dynamics—Köstendil’s reputation for intensity could’ve made for a demanding shoot—but nothing concrete has surfaced. Similarly, the film’s reception remains a mystery. Did it bomb, or was it a quiet critical darling? Until more details emerge, The Garage remains one of Turkish cinema’s intriguing question marks.
Entertainment rumors and trivia aggregated from public reporting. Treat speculation as unverified unless a cited source confirms it.
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