27 Mag An interview with Ömer Yıldırım, director of “Silent Plan”
BIO
Ömer Yıldırım is a director, actor, writer, and educator.
After completing his undergraduate and graduate studies in Theatre, he began his artistic journey as an actor before expanding into directing, writing, and teaching.
Throughout his career, Yıldırım has created works that blend traditional storytelling with contemporary visual techniques.
He is the author of the book Method and Character Studies in Acting and wrote and directed My Father’s Toys, one of Turkey’s pioneering children’s plays utilizing the Black Light Theatre technique.
He also adapted and directed the international work Mr. Men and Little Miss for the stage.
In addition to his theatre work, he has directed animated content and served as a creative director in the advertising industry.
He continues to teach acting, theatre, public speaking, and communication at various institutions while mentoring young talents.
His short film Silent Plan reflects his artistic vision built on visual storytelling and emotional depth, exploring modes of expression beyond spoken language.
Yıldırım’s works are known for their heartfelt narratives, minimalist storytelling style, and focus on making the unseen visible.
He is currently developing a feature film and a seven-episode series project.
“Silent Plan” is rooted in a deeply human narrative premise: the value of hearing the voice of a loved one. How did you work to transform this emotional intuition into a socially impactful and realistic story?
In 2024, while attending the Cannes Film Festival, I decided together with producer and actor Mehmet Şah Çelik to make this film. At that moment, a question came to my mind:
“If all sounds disappeared one day, whose voice would you long to hear the most?”
That question evoked a profoundly personal yet universal emotion. Silent Plan became a film that followed the emotional resonance of that thought.
We built the story around four deaf young people who have recorded the voices of their loved ones over the years, holding onto the hope of one day hearing them. But when that moment finally arrives, their hopes are suddenly crushed by a systemic decision. That turning point took the narrative beyond a personal drama and into the realm of social critique.
Making the story feel truthful and grounded wouldn’t have been possible without the contribution of our sign language instructor and actress, Merve Ayaz. Her guidance allowed us to approach the world of the characters not from the outside, but from within. Our deaf actors, Berk Aydın and Elif Çakırtaş, were also essential collaborators—both through their performances and through the personal experiences they generously shared.
What mattered most to me was not to represent these characters through the lens of disability, but to let the emotions and voices within their silence be heard.
In Silent Plan, deafness is never portrayed as a limitation, but rather as a unique way of seeing the world. How important was it for you to involve deaf actors in the making of the film, and in what way did their presence influence the writing or directing process?
Including deaf individuals in the film was never just a choice—it was central to the essence of the story. I wanted to tell this narrative from their perspective, not to make a statement about representation, but to evoke an emotional truth that comes from within.
Once Berk Aydın and Elif Çakırtaş joined the project, the script began to evolve naturally. Their real-life experiences, facial expressions, gestures, and the way they communicate through silence deeply influenced the film’s rhythm and tone.
As a director, I found myself opening space for the actors in a more organic way than ever before. Their physical expressiveness carried not only the story but also the emotional depth, beyond what spoken dialogue could convey.
Merve Ayaz played a pivotal role in this process. She guided the casting process and was instrumental in bringing Berk and Elif into the film. As someone fluent in sign language and experienced both on stage and in front of the camera, Merve did far more than translate—she helped us build a special connection with the deaf cast members.
In the end, this film didn’t aim to represent silence, but to create a stage for the life that exists within it.
Was there a particular challenge during filming, or a moment on set that struck you in a special way—whether personally or creatively?
The production of Silent Plan was emotionally and technically intense for all of us. One of the biggest challenges was maintaining clear communication with our deaf actors throughout the shoot.
Merve Ayaz was the only person on set who knew sign language. Whenever she wasn’t present, we found ourselves genuinely struggling—communication would break down, and progress would slow significantly. Because of this, Merve stayed by my side throughout the entire production, even when she wasn’t in the scenes. It was an incredibly demanding process for her, yet absolutely essential for the film.
This experience reminded me that filmmaking isn’t just about images or direction—it’s about shared understanding and collaboration. Even without a common spoken language, we found ways to connect through attention, presence, and patience.
Over time, that growing mutual understanding became one of the most vital forces carrying the film—both technically and emotionally.
There’s a turning point in the film when the protagonists decide to act, breaking the rules to claim what they’ve been denied. How did you construct this moment, which combines narrative tension and social commentary?
The real turning point in the film comes just days before the protagonists are supposed to receive their hearing devices. They receive a letter informing them they’ve been removed from the program—without explanation. All their hopes are suddenly crushed.
In response, the four deaf youths call an emergency meeting. They gather at a café and engage in a heated argument, which escalates to the point where they even consider staging a robbery. That moment captures how cornered and invisible they feel.
We chose to stage this scene specifically in a crowded, public café. Because despite being surrounded by people, they remain unseen. It’s the place where they are most visible—and yet most ignored.
That contradiction—being in the heart of society yet excluded from it—became central to the emotional core of the film.
What they plan is not an act of rebellion, but a quiet, desperate attempt to reclaim what was unjustly taken from them. A silent resistance, born out of invisibility.
The creative journey that began with Silent Plan showed me how silence—and deeply local stories—can carry a universal emotional power. Right now, I’m focused on three projects.
The first is a feature film set in London, centered around a migrant character navigating loneliness, invisibility, and the search for connection.
The second is a psychological thriller that explores darker emotional territory and inner conflict.
The third is a seven-episode series with an unconventional narrative structure that challenges traditional storytelling forms.
Whichever of these projects receives the most interest and support will be the one I move forward with first.