This German-French feature drama is a companion to 'The Hamburg Cell' (2004), a television film depicting the indoctrination of Ziad Jarrah, and how he conspired with a group of terrorists, as they plotted the 9/11 attack. This is especially because, whereas 'The Hamburg Cell' was told from Jarrah's perspective, 'Co-pilot' details the sweep of events according to Aysel Şengün, Jarrah's longtime girlfriend - or, wife, in this Anne Zohra Berrached film. Although largely consistent with the 9/11 Commission Report, 'Co-pilot' diverges from fact particularly with Jarrah being renamed Saeed (Roger Azar) and Aysel becoming Asli (Canan Kir), as it sets out to be more than just a dry 'narration of a historical sequence', in Berrached's words.
Indeed, the screams following Saeed's introductory, blank-screen voice-over are not from onlookers privy to smouldering rubble, but from the fairground, where Asli and Saeed first behold each other - underlining the heady, carefree, innocent beginnings of their love. Both students - Asli is reading medicine and Saeed dentistry - they later meet properly at a party in university accommodation, where Asli is taken with Saeed's charisma.Whilst Asli is Turkish and Saeed is Lebanese, they have a shared, nominal Muslim background - Asli reveals she likes going to Mosque as it always helps calm her down, while Saeed values the feeling of community.
Yet, as their relationship progresses in the film's five, yearly chapters, Saeed becomes increasingly traditional and conservative, and more secretive about his interactions, purportedly being more immersed in religious activity. Though, tellingly, Imams at local mosques do not recall having seen him for a long time, when asked at one point; in fact, the characters who are seen adhering to Islam most closely in 'Co-pilot' are the least outspoken. The simple pastel colours and patterns at the film's beginning later evolve into 'darker, more satiated colours and restless onscreen patterns', according to Berrached, and this is indicative of Asli and Saeed's dynamic becoming more complicated, and of Saeed's growing fanaticism.
Yet, Saeed confesses to Asli that, 'without [her], [he] wouldn't have had the strength to follow [his] path'. In an escapist, imaginative play sequence, he first gives her the affectionate moniker, 'co-pilot', and this is revisited when he eventually obtains a pilot's license and coaxes her to join him for a flight. On a figurative level, this epithet is perhaps suggestive of complicity, implication, and enabling on Asli's part.
In their marriage vows, Saeed exacts the promise, 'you must keep my secrets'. And though Asli is an intelligent and intuitive persona, the fleeting, surrealist moments where there are more than one of her on screen, gazing beseechingly at her real self, accentuate her reluctance to engage in introspection and self-examination. She is ultimately unwilling to pursue the misgivings of others and of herself - and, as Berrached puts it, there is an 'existential drama reflected in [Asli's eyes]'. Asli is not obtuse, and Berrached 'leaves open whether Asli acts repressed or unconsciously' in her passivity. Asli's reluctance to defy the cultural prejudices harboured by her overbearing mother that are inimical to her relationship with Saeed prefigures how she is loathe to ask some big questions. The shaky handheld camera with which 'Co-pilot' is filmed conveys the almost breathless nature of this intense love, which Asli allows to blindside her.
Though set in the mid-90s to early 00s, 'Co-pilot' has understated set design and costumes, ensuring that the story is not contextually confined, and emphasising that the indiscretion of Asli's that was to cling to comfort and altogether eschew the idea of confrontation, is timeless, in the sense of being a fault that can be universally made. The indiscretion's also timeless in the irrevocable senses of the original German and French language titles of the film: 'the world [is] different', as the actions of Jarrah and his collaborators have ultimately left us grappling with 'what's left'.
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