Ugur Aydedim



14.07.1968, Eskisehir (Turkey)


M.A. in Cinema and TV, Fine Arts Faculty at Marmara University, Istanbul, Turkey

Place of Residence:

Istanbul (Turkey)

Writes in Languages:

Turkish, English


Born in Eskisehir in 1968, Uğur Aydedim graduated from Marmara University, Fine Arts Faculty, Cinema and TV department in 1994. He had his MA in same faculty. He worked as cinematographer, editor, director and producer in documentaries, short films and television films.

Sample of previous work

Projects in development


feature film
developed script

THE LAST STEP adapted from novel of Ayhan Gecgin which has same title as the film. The film of an alienated, individualistic youth disconnected from his Kurdish origins who, due to circumstances beyond his control, is thrown into the center of his people’s tragedy.

Attached to the project: co-writer, director, producer
Looking for: co-producer

Keywords: politics, Kurdish, conflict, Turkish, alienated


feature film

An angry working woman searches for a gun for vengeance.

Attached to the project: director, producer
Looking for: co-producer

Keywords: vengeance, child abuse, politics

More from Projects

Filmography and Awards

ESCAPE IN ISTANBUL, documentary film for Al Jazeera, director/producer 
ROOTS, documentary film, director/producer
ELEVEN, short film, director
SUMMER, short film, writer/director
ORDINARY MADNESS, short film, writer/director
NAKED, experimental, director
A MAN ASLEEP, short film, writer/director  – IFSAK: Jury Prize
INSIDE-OUTSIDE, documentary film, writer/director
KADIKOY FOR THOSE WHO SEE, documentary film, writer/director – 1st International Encounter of Cinema & History: Best Documentary

My five favourite films

  1. Stalker (1979)
    by Andrei Tarkovsky
  2. Mirror (1975)
    by Andrei Tarkovsky
  3. Passenger (1975)
    by Michelangelo Antonioni
  4. Ulysses’ Gaze (1995)
    by Theodoros Angelopoulos
  5. Blow-Up (1966)
    by Michelangelo Antonioni

Favourite scene I wrote

The men, absent-minded, are looking around and ahead. One of them slowly takes out a cigarette and light it. The tall man approaches Ali Ihsan, and pads him on the shoulder.
          TALL MAN
Walk. That way.
Ali Ihsan walks ahead. Except for the driver, who’s now leaning against the car, other men follow him absent-mindedly. The tall man takes out his gun, pulls back the hammer, and loads bullets. They are walking in the woods. Ali ˙Ihsan walks as if he’s accepted and understood all this.
They arrive at an open space, beautifully covered in green
          TALL MAN
Ali ˙Ihsan stops with a limp. He looks at the sky. The tall trees are swaying softly in the wind. Up above, a flock of birds are flying. He’s hearing the sound of the river nearby.
          TALL MAN
On your knees.
Ali Ihsan kneels down. He looks at the grass before him. Everything slows down: The swinging of the grass, the swaying of the trees, the flight of the birds, the movements of the men behind him. One man slowly lights a cigarette, another one calmly watches around.
          ALI IHSAN
     (inner voice)
A human being is not nothing. You
want to transform the human into a
pitiable thing, into a shred, into
something that suffers, something
that knows nothing but suffering,
into a disgraced thing, into a
misery, into a nothing.
He thinks of Kader: She is standing before the window, looking out, then turns and looks at him.
He thinks of the sad, pensive complexion of his grandmother. The forlorn image of Süleyman, squatting and rolling a cigarette.
The street urchin who hugged a tree at the Gülhane Park.
The image of Uncle Kekil sitting on a rock and staring in the distance while smoking.
The pensive but passionate looks of Ziya by the river.
The forlorn, worn out complexions of those people in the bed of the truck.
          ALI IHSAN
     (inner voice)
No matter what you do, you cannot
bring a human down to nothing.
There is something immortal in a
human being. There is something
indestructible in a human being: A
fig seed.
He looks up into the sky. A bright, blue sky.
Ali Ihsan slowly smiles, as if he’s finally understanding.

My favourite film quote

“Weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it’s tender and pliant. But when it’s dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death’s companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.

Stalker (1979)