The Poetry of Precision: Nietzsche’s Umbrella Shines

In Nietzsche’s Umbrella, writer-director Hüseyin Saylan invites us to dance under the invisible shelter and to wrestle with the burdens we carry, often without even realizing it.

Burak, our modern-day Hamlet with a Fender guitar instead of a sword, stumbles through life, a philosophy lecturer who barely believes in the philosophy he teaches. "Why do they pay philosophy teachers?" he quips, half in jest, half in existential despair. Is this man a tragic hero or a cautionary tale with a sly smile? Saylan leaves that umbrella defiantly half-closed for us to wonder.

The film, painted in dusty tones and stitched together with a noir-ish thread of nighttime melancholy, captures the decaying poetry of Istanbul’s backstreets. It has a meticulous sound design and a sensitive editing style that mirrors Burak’s inner turmoil.

At its core, Nietzsche’s Umbrella is a philosophical fugue on responsibility and self-delusion. Burak dreams of peace, rails against peace, flees responsibility, then yearns for it in the next breath. Like Nietzsche’s eternally returning man, he loops back to the same dilemmas.

Burak’s world is populated by characters who are reflections of the paths he won't walk. Each encounter nudges Burak closer to the inevitable, not a heroic act, but a quiet, reluctant acceptance that even doing nothing is, in fact, a choice.

If Nietzsche’s Umbrella has a flaw, it’s the deliberate passivity of its protagonist. Watching Burak is like watching a man drown in shallow water: frustrating, heartbreaking, at times even absurd. But isn’t that the point?

Saylan’s direction is understated but surgical, his camera lingers like a suspicious thought you can't shake off. His dialogue wry, unhurried, filled with rueful wit  feels lived-in rather than scripted. It's a film that rewards patience but punishes distraction.

In the end, Nietzsche’s Umbrella is less about Burak’s escape than about the uncomfortable truth that we are all trying to outrun ourselves and we always pack our umbrellas, just in case.