A Storyteller Shaped by Passion: Gökalp Yamen’s Path in Cinema
We are delighted to feature one of our distinguished alumni, filmmaker Gökalp Yamen, in this issue of the NEU Bulletin.
A graduate of the Near East University Radio–Television–Cinema Department, Yamen has quickly become a rising voice in independent cinema, earning international recognition with his award-winning debut feature Celal’s Train. His path—from creating small short films as a student to receiving accolades in New York, Cannes, Los Angeles, and Rome—reflects a journey shaped by determination, creativity, and a deep belief in the transformative power of storytelling.
In this interview, Yamen shares the beginnings of his cinematic adventure, the experiences that shaped his artistic vision, and the philosophy behind the stories he brings to the screen. His reflections offer both inspiration and insight for young filmmakers navigating their own creative paths.
How did your journey into directing begin? How did your early years in short films and documentaries shape your storytelling?
My journey into directing didn’t actually begin with a camera; it began with the imagination of my childhood.
We didn’t have a camera at home, but I would constantly send my favorite toy character on adventures, creating little stories in my mind. Without realizing it, I was writing my first scripts back then.
The real idea of “becoming a director” found me in a park on my way home from school in Aydın. I saw a man filming with a small handheld camera. I approached him and asked what he was doing.
“We’re shooting a film,” he said. Surprised, I asked, “Is it really that easy?”
His answer changed my life:“Anything is easy if you truly want it.”
That day, I went home and immediately started researching how films are made and how scripts are written. I shot my first short film around that time with a small handheld camera. It was very amateur, but the excitement inside it is still present in everything I create today.
Short films and documentaries taught me one essential truth: The soul of a story is sincerity.
Technique evolves, budgets grow, but the emotional core always stays the same.
How did your education at Near East University shape your approach to cinema? In what ways do you see your university years reflected in your work today?
Near East University was a turning point for me because it was the first place where I began to see cinema not just as a “hobby,” but as a profession and a way of life. My instructors had an invaluable approach; they didn’t just give information — they taught me how to think. You eventually learn technique, but developing a perspective is not as easy.
The small shoots we did during our university years, the sets we created with limited resources, and the late-night idea discussions still echo through my work today. That period gave me practical discipline and taught me this:
“A director must first understand people. The camera comes second.”
Even now, in professional projects, I sometimes go back and look at the notes I took in those years. My fundamental way of thinking was shaped by the education I received back then and by my esteemed instructor, Fevzi Kasap.
How did your first feature film, Celal’s Train, come to life? What were the most defining experiences during its production and festival journey?
After my short films, I knew I needed to move on to a feature film. But I had neither the budget nor the means.
What I heard most often was: “You can’t do it.”
It was said so many times that the phrase both pushed me forward and shaped the soul of the film. Because within every dream people say you “can’t do,” there is actually a story of struggle.
“If a person believes enough, they can reach places they never expected.”
Celal’s Train was born exactly from that place. Celal’s story was, in many ways, also my story. Like me, Celal was chasing a dream that grew out of impossibilities. I had been interested in cinema since childhood but didn’t even have a camera; Celal was the same. He searched for a way to amplify the light inside him while also struggling with life. I saw myself in his world.
As I wrote the script, I kept asking: “Can a person’s inner dream be stronger than the circumstances outside?”
For me, the answer was yes — and that’s why I connected so deeply with Celal’s journey.
The production was difficult: days of silence, scenes we couldn’t resolve until dawn, drained budgets… Three years lost in post-production. Support that couldn’t be found. But every challenge added a new layer to the film’s spirit.
It taught me that:
A film is sustained not only by technical means and budget, but by belief and patience.
As for the festival journey, what moved me most was this: I never imagined that the dreams I shaped in my small room would one day resonate in other countries. People connecting with the film, understanding Celal, finding pieces of their own lives within it… That feeling was indescribable.
Celal’s Train was much more than a film for me — both a beginning and a proof that: If a person believes enough, they can reach places they never expected.
Who or what has been your greatest source of inspiration in cinema? How has that inspiration influenced your work?
My first inspiration in cinema did not come from great directors or giant films.
It began the day I saw a man — Kerem Sarı — shooting a short film in a park in Aydın. The magic of that small camera, the excitement, the sincerity of the moment… I never forgot that day. He was the first person who made me feel:
“Cinema is possible for anyone who desires it.”
Kerem Sarı later directed Super Fig (Süper İncir). Watching his journey from afar nurtured the feeling of “Maybe it really is possible” inside me.
Over time, of course, great directors entered my life: Francis Ford Coppola — whose commitment to keeping characters at the emotional core deeply aligns with what I seek in cinema: the inner voice of a human being.
Tarkovsky’s courage to bend time,
Kieslowski’s microscope-like gaze into the human soul,
Zeki Demirkubuz’s powerful silence…
Each of them left a distinct mark on me.
But to be honest: None of them changed my life as profoundly as that small camera I saw in the park.
When I make films today, two forces operate within me:
The depth of cinema history and the powerful languages of the masters…
and the sincerity of a man chasing his dream with a small camera.
My cinema lives somewhere between those two points.
What is the most important advice you would give to young directors, especially those with limited resources?
To be honest, giving advice still feels strange to me — because I am still learning myself. But as someone who continues to walk this path, I can say this: The biggest misconception in cinema is the belief that you should start only when everything is perfect.
I’ve never seen such a moment. The camera was missing, the light was missing, the budget was missing, the location was missing… But the excitement was always abundant.
So my first advice is: Don’t use your limitations as an excuse; let your story grow with them.
Another important thing is this: Don’t see cinema only as a technical craft. You will learn the technique anyway — I am still learning, still curious, still making mistakes, still saying, “I wish I hadn’t filmed that scene that way.”
The most important thing I can tell young directors is: Don’t wait for perfect conditions — they will never come.
“No matter who believes in you or not — you must believe in your story and in yourself.”
When I started, I barely had a camera, and I had no real crew. Most people told me, “Forget it, it won’t happen.”
But I understood something: The biggest obstacle in front of a dream is not lack of resources — it is lack of courage. Your means may be limited — that’s normal. But if your curiosity is limited, that’s the real problem.
Start with a small camera. Make a friend your actor. Use sunlight as your lighting equipment.
Shoot something — in a room, a street, a park… anywhere. Because first films are not meant to be perfect; they are meant to make you who you are.
Starting doesn’t require something big.
It is starting that allows something to become big. Gather your friends, shoot with a phone if you have to, try a scene, search for a feeling.
As long as you are “in record,” you will grow.
No matter who believes in you or not — you must believe in your story and in yourself.
That belief is still the strongest equipment I have.
“Independent cinema” or films aimed at wider audiences? And could you share a bit about the projects you are currently working on?
Cinema can carry the same power whether created in the silence of a small room or in the middle of a large crowd. So I don’t position myself strictly as “independent” or “commercial.” If a story settles into my heart, I let it decide where it wants to go.
I’m working on several projects at the moment, but they are still very new. What I can say for now is this: Each one is a simple yet profound story that touches the human soul. A story is fragile in the beginning. It needs time and space to breathe. But I can say this much: Each project opens the door to a different world — and that excites me.
My creative aim remains the same: For the viewer to notice a small piece of themselves. Sometimes a short scene can do that; sometimes a long journey. What matters is that the right emotion reaches the right place.
If even one person leaves the film seeing their life differently, then I have done something right. A person with a burden inside cannot keep it hidden; sooner or later it finds its way to the surface. A person with a burden has much to say — and when that burden finds its listener, a seed grows.
I, too, carry a burden: I believe another world is possible. And another cinema as well.
“A director cannot change the world alone, but they can spark the first flame that leads to change.”
Cinema has a language stronger than words. Some things cannot be described; you try to form a sentence but it remains incomplete. Yet the light of a scene, the silence of a character, the rhythm of a shot… can touch people — sometimes a crowd, sometimes a country, sometimes a single person — and change something.
My goal is exactly this:
To reach that unseen place inside a human being.
To open a door.
To complete a sentence.
To make even the smallest real difference.
Large audiences or small independent theatres — it doesn’t matter. What matters is that cinema serves a purpose: To make someone think, transform, or heal. Because I believe this: “A director cannot change the world alone, but they can spark the first flame that leads to change.” And I am chasing that spark.
Let me end with a thought I always remember: “If a film shifts someone’s world even slightly, new things can begin to grow in that world.”
About Gökalp Yamen
Gökalp Yamen is a director, screenwriter, and producer born in Aydın, Türkiye. He graduated from the Radio–Television–Cinema Department of Near East University, where he became one of the most award-winning students in the program’s history, receiving multiple national festival prizes for the short films he made during his studies.
His debut feature film, Celal’s Train, achieved significant success on the international festival circuit. The film received awards from prestigious independent competitions such as the New York Film Awards (NYFA), Cannes World Film Festival, Los Angeles Film Awards (LAFA), and Rome Movie Awards, strengthening Yamen’s international visibility. These achievements highlighted his ability to combine the sensitivity of a low-budget independent production with a deeply emotional, character-driven narrative.
Yamen’s cinema centers on inner transformation, the quiet stories of those living on the margins of society, and the subtle, often invisible layers of human emotion. His early work in short films and documentaries earned recognition at various local festivals and official selections, helping him refine his observational skills and deepen his character-focused approach.
He also served as Turkey Correspondent for Kazakhstan State Television KZ24 for a period, and his experience in journalism and news production introduced a strong sense of realism into his visual language. His ability to blend journalistic clarity with cinematic aesthetics enables him to create natural, authentic atmospheres in both his fiction and documentary work.
Currently developing new projects in both documentary and narrative forms, Yamen sees cinema not only as a mode of storytelling but also as a tool for transformation, empathy, and confrontation. Rather than aiming to create loud, spectacular effects, his films aspire to spark a small yet lasting movement within the viewer.