Known locally as dizis, soapy Turkish TV series have transformed our national airwaves into a culturally vapid wasteland of inane drivel. Here’s how to make one!INGREDIENTS:
1 plot, preferably ripped off already existing American series
1 production crew – without a sound team (sound will be dubbed in later because it’s cheaper and because overall quality of production doesn’t really matter)
1 studio decorated with fake furnishings (which actually looks realistic, because most Turkish middle class homes look like they have fake furnishings)
1 can of laughter (if the show purports to be a ‘comedy’)
10-12 actors, of which one or two should be former Turkish beauty pageant contestants, three or four should be models, singers or recent reality-TV personalities (make sure to check expiration date, as reality-TV stars usually go bad pretty quick), and the rest should be drama school graduates who have a pathological compulsion to hammed up theatrical acting, which – when viewed on TV – looks more like a pantomime. Oh, and one or two slots should be reserved for the director or the producer’s zit-faced kid.
Finally, we need 1 make-up artist who has the task of turning every actress into a blow-up doll that just got hit by a technicoloured paint bomb, and every actor into a sleazy Middle Eastern James Dean with shadow and blush to enhance their approximately zero chiseled features. (NOTE: Half the actresses must have their hair dyed blonde, one or two red. If the dizi is on a religious channel like Samanyolu or Kanal 7, actresses must wear headscarves – unless they’re playing evil characters)
PREPARATION:
Take the American rip-off plot and mix with uninspired ideas to suit Turkish viewers. Stir gently, but not too long, so as not to lose lumpy inconsistency. Plot should include: one love affair between the main girl (played by one of the former beauty pageant contestants) and the main guy (played by one of the models/singers/reality-TV stars); at least one or two hospital scenes where said love affair is in danger of being tragically cut short; a major misunderstanding in which the protagonist model/singer/reality-TV star has a run-in with the law but turns out to be innocent; two or three sinister characters who are jealous of protagonist and try and dick him over and steal his girl while failing miserably in the attempt; friends of protagonist who seem a little dorky and idiotic compared to protagonist (who’s the real deal); prudish conservative parents who disapprove of their son’s and daughter’s reckless love affair and whose disciplinarian restrictions they must overcome (but without upsetting them or breaking any rules).
Next, insert actors caked in make-up onto an over-lit set. The secret ingredient here is cheese: the cheesier the better. Grate it all over so it covers everything. You don’t need good cheese either, just get that fluorescent radioactive orange plasticky cheese they melt over nachos in microwaves. Subtlety is a big NO-NO. Keep in mind the average I.Q. of the dizi-viewing audience who will be bemused as to what emotion is being conveyed unless it is hideously overacted. Therefore, sadness should be portrayed with mawkish and hysterical sobbing, anger with fist-shaking and shouting, happiness with twirling around and throwing arms up in the air, and comedy with hyperbolic laughter and knee-slapping (yes, real knee-slapping). The actors should really clobber the viewers over their heads with acting so as to leave no room for ambiguity. If the devious intentions of a character must be made clear, then make that character talk to himself so that all his motives and plans are clearly outlined in a minute-long soliloquy. End soliloquy with actor looking away with a sinister squint (hand-rubbing is optional, though not discouraged).
It’s also important to note here that the sound dubbing should not be done too well. There should be a split-second delay between the movement of the actors’ lips and the sounds that are supposedly emanating from them. Child actors’ voices should always be dubbed over by adults trying to speak like children. Whether actors are in a park, a bedroom or at a party, they should always sound like they’re actually talking in a studio with perfect acoustics. This way we can be sure that the viewer never has trouble understanding any of the words uttered, and also so that any accidental instances of decent acting could still look pathetic thanks to the dubbing. Remember, the show must be right on the cutting edge of mediocrity to appeal to as many people as possible. Each weekly episode should also stretch out to two-and-a-half hours. This can best be achieved through very bad editing where a lot of footage which has no relevance to the plot can be left in the final cut so as to draw out the episode, thereby creating more room for advertising. Chop up program at will – mid-sentence if need be – for sake of insertion of said advertising. Ok, now that you’ve mixed all that up, it’s time to put it all in the oven. Make sure not to cook it for more than half the time needed to prepare it properly. A Turkish dizi must always be served half-baked.
NOTE: While diversity is well represented in American series (where it’s almost obligatory to have Black, Latino, Asian, Jewish characters, etc.), a Turkish dizi must reflect none of the rich ethno-cultural diversity of Turkey whatsoever. If absolutely pressed, insert a humourous Laz character who speaks with a funny accent and gets into ‘all manner of mischief’.
