Almost Certainly False drives home the risk of reductionist language

The thing about the word “refugee” is its reductive and objectifying connotation, reducing the person to an object and robbing them of their humanity. While not unique to the U.S., we are one of the biggest purveyors of language that dehumanizes people (e.g. slave, undocumented, illegal, foreigner, criminal). But for this talk, the focus is on “refugee,” which refers to a person fleeing dire circumstances in their home countries, circumstances like political retribution, religious persecution, climate change, famine, and of course, war. 

Several years ago, COTC published a review of the theatrical release, In Syria, which is about the plight of a family sticking it out in their bombed-out apartment building during the nascent stages of the Syrian War. During its 2025 festival in Utah, Sundance screened a short film that gives another perspective of this war. Rather than a look from the inside-out, Cansu Baydar’s Almost Certainly False gives a glimpse from the outside-in through the eyes of Hanna, a 20-something who fled Syria for the safety of Turkey with her adolescent brother, Nader (Isa Karatas), in tow.

Now settled in Istanbul, Hanna, played by Rahaf Armanazi, has a one-bedroom apartment from which she makes a living doing manicures, as her restless little brother looks on. The two often have conflicting priorities. She needs to work when he wants to play with a ball in the small space, for example. Or he beckons her attention in some other way, but she is distracted with straightening up. Though they occasionally tussle when Nader gets frustrated, ultimately, the two hug it out as they learn to manage what has clearly been a difficult adjustment for them both.

Hanna has a social life, which includes hanging out with her best friend, Benjo (Ubey Gül), who is slightly younger than her and seemingly oblivious to the fact that Hanna is responsible for a younger brother. Still, the two manage to find time to talk and hang out socially. When Benjo arranges a blind double-date with her and her boyfriend, Hanna meets Ibo, a Turkish gentleman played by Ferhat Akgün. Ibo confirms with her what he seems to already know, that she is “a refugee.” He then persists in telling her that she doesn’t “look Syrian.”

Throughout the evening, Ibo is obsessed with Hanna’s appearance, looking at her with a gaze of disbelief like she is something other-worldly. Again, he says, “You don’t look Syrian.” It is not clear if Ibo is smitten with Hanna’s looks or taken aback by how full of life she is or perhaps, that she is even human. It is as if he expects her to be or look like something or someone else.

Hanna maintains a very strong sense of self despite enduring difficult circumstances in her short life. We see this as she confidently shares with Ibo her plans for the future. With a tone of disbelief, he wonders aloud how she is going to accomplish this. She retorts indignantly, “How do you think?” and “How else would anyone do it?”

Ibo’s gaze and obsession with Hanna’s appearance reminds us of the rancor around the heavy European immigration to the United States during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It also brings to mind the more recent hostile sentiments expressed by political leaders hyper‑focused on people arriving from countries in North Africa, East Asia, and especially nations south of the U.S. border. The same can be seen and heard in Europe in recent decades, as evidenced by news stories on immigration and dramatized in films such as The Old Oak.

Ken Loach’s 2023 film, The Old Oak, is centered on a working‑class Irish enclave in the UK, where struggling residents resist the settling of new Syrian immigrants in their community. They not only stare at them because of their difference in appearance, but they also view them as something other than human. This is evident in the harsh words they use and in their often-combative treatment of them. While Cansu Baydar’s Almost Certainly False avoids delving into nasty forms of rejection, Ibo’s objectification of Hanna is enough to give us hints about her experiences as a Syrian immigrant in Turkey. Interestingly, the film also conveys that xenophobia is not unique to countries in the West, but perhaps manifests quite differently.

There is a tendency to objectify those who look different and paint them as something other than what they are. The problem with this is it runs the risk of locking them into concrete boxes stamped with words and meanings that not only fail to convey who they are, but they narrow the aperture through which they are viewed by others and limit what they can become. In Almost Certainly False, Ibo’s view of Hanna suggests this marginalization of her has already begun. She is viewed as this thing called a “refugee” who doesn’t look like who she claims to be and has no chance of achieving what she dreams to become.

In The Old Oak, 20-something-year-old Yara, a Syrian immigrant played by Ebla Mari, asserts herself in the community and works to organize a regular meal at a local tavern for all to come, share, and get to know one another. In this sense, young Yara refuses to be objectified. The same can be said of Hanna. Fearlessly and forcefully pushing against the ideas and sentiments about her, we see in Almost Certainly False that Hanna is not a figment of anyone’s imagination. Like Yara, she is alive and real.