Orçun Behram’s feature debut The Antenna will probably be most meaningful for those living in Turkey, the Istanbul-based filmmaker’s birthplace. His stylish horror movie portrays a dystopian world in which a broadcasting system installed in apartment complexes turns out to be a monstrous presence, a clear (sometimes too clear) metaphor for life under the current regime. Beautifully shot in sickly, muted tones, the action takes place in a bleak-looking neighborhood of drab high-rises and is experienced mainly through the eyes of the soulful put-upon building attendant Mehmed (Ihsan Önal). 

We first learn about the new government initiative through cheerful news bulletins, followed by the arrival of a technician who sets up a satellite dish on the roof of Mehmet’s building. When the guy abruptly meets a bad end, Mehmet’s supervisor Cihan (Levent Ünsal), a classic mid-level bureaucrat, is suspiciously nonchalant about the whole business. 

Things around the apartment complex soon become very weird and threatening, as an oozing black liquid begins seeping into every apartment and scene. We see how three different tenants (a single woman, a couple with a young son, and the family of Mehmet’s friend Yasemin) fare as something inexplicable takes over.

The Antenna starts out quietly, but its soundtrack gradually becomes ominous and intrusive, featuring the magnification of seemingly benign sounds. Visually, there are a variety of familiar references–overhead shots, close-ups, strange and grotesque angles, many reminiscent of the surreal work of David Cronenberg or Terry Gilliam (Brazil) The Big Brother theme is also very evocative and there is some obvious symbolism (bird in cage) which makes the film less than gripping, despite its grimly effective vibe.

The film is a slow creep, eventually surging beyond dystopia into full-blown hell. Though the many elements that obviously inspired Behram are a bit of a drawback, there’s enough here to suggest a promising future for Behram.

The subject of Lillian LaSalle’s documentary My Name is Pedro is one of the most unsung of leaders, a public school administrator. Pedro Santana is an especially worthy example of that group: a former special ed kid from an impoverished family who wound up devoting his life to the education of children from similar backgrounds. He’s also a warm personality and charismatic visual figure whose long hair often drew comparisons to Michael Jackson (not a bad thing at one time).

LaSalle documented Santana’s life over the course of seven years for her debut feature (she previously served as producer on several other films), so it’s understandable that the result is at times a bit rambling. A lot took place, especially during Santana’s time as assistant superintendent of the East Ramapo Central School District in Rockland County, N.Y., where he was brought in to help smooth over tensions between the parents of public school children and members of the local school board representing the area’s Orthodox Jewish community.

Santana’s ascent to that role is remarkable—from struggling Bronx student to Peace Corps volunteer (unusual for someone from his background) to public school teacher (after getting himself into Columbia’s Teachers College) to assistant principal, then principal—Santana owes his success to one particularly supportive grade-school teacher. An inspiration to both parents and students, many of whom are interviewed for the film, he himself changed the lives of several students by connecting with them individually. After improving the grades of several Bronx schools, Santana was courted by the East Ramapo school district, a similarly challenged area.

Despite difficult obstacles—both public (including a struggle for power within the school board) and tragically personal—Santana perseveres. 

Though completed in 2017, the documentary feels particularly inspiring during these turbulent times. It’s a reminder of just how much of a difference a good educator can make in the life of a young person or a school. This might sound all very obvious, but when we watch someone like Santana in action, we both moved by his compassion and commitment, and saddened by the fact that a he’s a rarity.

The Antenna and My Name is Pedro open in virtual cinemas on Friday, October 2.

—Marina Zogbi