A political tale where the hunter goes and gets hunted

In that scene where the priest defends killing animals as a 'divine right', our hero's cry: "How can you listen to these things?" is not only the breaking point of the film; it is a collective cry directed at the deaf system of this age.

Imagine a murder mystery seeking animal justice. The victims are humans, the perpetrators are nature. Set in the snow-covered, fog-engulfed solitude of the Polish border, this film traces hunting, masculinity, and power. From Joanna Bator's novel, Spoor, filmed by Agnieszka Holland, one of the most influential figures in European cinema, is not just a detective story. It's also a nature elegy. The voices of animals and the expression of female rage. The film constructs a shocking political discourse by exposing the bloodlust of hunting disguised as a "hobby," the hypocrisy of the male-dominated system, and the domination religion exerts over nature. Its rhetoric is as harsh and direct as its aesthetics. The hunted are hunted. At the center of the film is Janina Duszejko, an astrologer, feminist, and anarchist woman living in harmony with nature. The story is told through her eyes, and through this, we witness a shocking transformation from individual loneliness to collective rebellion. After their lost dog, the town's male hunters begin to die one by one. These deaths, initially seemingly mysterious, go far beyond the "who is the murderer?" question of classic detective stories. For here, the crime isn't limited to a body falling to the ground. These murders demonstrate that nature's patience is wearing thin, and a conscience that seeks justice for animals on behalf of humans will no longer remain silent.

ECOFEMINISM IN THE NEW WAVE

Director Agnieszka Holland is one of the living masters of political cinema. She began her career as an assistant to Andrzej Wajda and gained both aesthetic and ethical depth through her collaborations with Kieslowski. Spoor actually marks a new expansion in director Holland’s filmography; within a nature mythology interwoven with gothic elements, it shows that justice can be re-imagined not only through law or anthropocentric morality, but also in ecological and political contexts. In my opinion, this film is a striking and political representation of animal rights cinema. In one aspect, the film portrays the anger of natural justice and ecofeminism as a powerful rebellion against anthropocentric violence. Holland strikingly conveys the message to the audience that “protecting animals and nature is not just an individual choice, but a political and ethical imperative.” In the scene where the priest defends killing animals as a “divine right” in the Christian sermon, our hero’s cry: “How can you listen to this shit?” is not only the breaking point of the film; a collective cry directed at the deaf system of this age. Agnieszka Mandat's acting in the lead role is the cinematic embodiment of repressed rage. The coldness of the frames, which mirror the character's loneliness, and the beauty of nature contrast sharply with the rottenness of the system. I love Trace not so much for its story but for its political and aesthetic weight. The film is a bit like a fairy tale that goes on and on. But this tale smells of gunpowder, not fairy dust.

INDUSTRIALIZED OFFICIAL MURDER: HUNTING

The rights marches are no longer alone. Demands for women's liberation, environmental justice, anti-globalization, and interspecies equality are marching side by side. The marches, attended by over tens of thousands, are a beacon of how the streets of the future will be shaped. And hunting, in particular… the industrialized version of "official murder." It's so archaic, so barbaric, it feels like the residue of a shameful past to which we no longer belong. Hunting tourism, which generates annual revenues ranging from $3 to $25 million, is building an unregulated, unquestioned, yet growing economy in Türkiye. The figures in Europe are even more staggering. Spain earns $6 billion annually, France $90 billion, and Germany $150 billion. South Africa's annual hunting tourism revenue exceeds $500 million. These figures tell us something: Animals are hunted not only in the wild but also in the financial markets. And in Türkiye, it's still a sector promoted under the guise of "sport" and "tourism." Consider the following definition on the government's official website: "Hunters gain the opportunity to learn about different cultures by possessing valuable souvenir parts of wild animals like horns, teeth, and hides." Doesn't this sentence sound like the opening line of a horror movie? If so, you're on the anti-hunting side.