Turksploitation films should be classified as outright rip-offs (going a step beyond mere adaptations; they involve plagiarism and direct copying); they are productions that feature knockoff characters and screenplays—and sometimes even go so far as to include visuals, sound effects, and soundtracks—copied from the originals.

Setting aside the isolated successes of its major productions, Turksploitation films rank among the areas where Turkish cinema has carved out the most significant niche for itself on a global scale.

Starting in the late 1940s, as Turkish cinema began to industrialize, and continuing through the 1950s, it began to adopt not only equipment, techniques, and methods but also cinematic elements such as storytelling, screenplays, and acting approaches from abroad—primarily from the United States. This was actually a situation experienced by the film industries of many countries that were striving to establish their own cinematic identities during the same period. In the early days of Turkish cinema, while theater culture still dominated the film industry, many adaptations and works inspired by foreign sources were produced with an effort to remain faithful to the originals. One of the best examples of this was the film *Dracula in Istanbul*.

By the 1960s, however, cinema had severed its ties with theater in many respects and had carved out a much more commercial niche for itself. With a few exceptions, the films produced were melodramas and comedies with a strong commercial focus. Breaking into the industry—and staying in it—was extremely difficult. However, there was a market that was constantly growing due to audience demand, and it was up for grabs. New actors, directors, and producers—who were generally trying to find a place for themselves in cinema for sociological and commercial reasons but were unable to succeed—were searching for a solution. These actors, directors, and producers would create their own closed economies by bringing along the audience base they had cultivated. Their solution was simple: to produce films that, by the standards of the time, contained high levels of sensationalism, violence, and sexuality. While commercially speaking, the ideal was to combine all three elements, the proportions would shift over time depending on the audience. While the issue of violence was addressed by a group of young, eager male actors known as “brawlers,” young women burning with the dream of becoming actresses and finding their place in cinema were ready to fill the role of sexuality. The only thing left was sensationalism. Rip-offs came to the rescue for the sake of sensation.

A “rip-off” (also known as a “knock-off”) refers to the act of constructing one’s own film—or perhaps just a single scene—by borrowing elements from other films. Rip-off productions select the films they will borrow from among blockbuster films—major productions aimed at box-office success, such as *Titanic* (1997)— (or works that, if made, could be blockbusters) as their sources, and if the resulting new film resembles a B-movie or Z-movie, what we are dealing with is a “mockbuster.” The “mock” in “mockbuster” stands in contrast to blockbuster films, carrying the meaning of “mockery” as much as “fake.” While mockbusters are generally considered a subgenre of exploitation cinema, the specific context in Turkey has created a unique situation for mockbusters produced there.

have driven the number of mockbuster films to a level that has given rise to “Turksploitation,” a subgenre unique to Turkey.

Turksploitation films represent a period situated between Turkish cinema’s stagnation in the quagmire of melodrama and comedy and the dissolution of its erotic era, exhibiting fluidity between both. This period is marked by a military coup at both its beginning and end.

What distinguishes mockbusters—and, of course, Turksploitation films—from all other genres and subgenres of exploitation cinema is that the object of exploitation is cinema itself. In addition to the narration, depiction, and execution of exploitation, the exploited subject and the exploitative environment are intertwined. For the mockbuster viewer, if they have previously watched the original film (work) from which the mockbuster was ripped off, this situation also takes the form of an exploitation of their own memory. In the case of Turksploitation films specifically, the issue can sometimes go beyond exploitation itself. At times, these films have been marketed as originals in the domestic market. In cases where the original could not enter the Turkish market, while these promotions may seem much more sympathetic, it should not be forgotten that the “thing” at the center is more of a commercial product than a work of art. The interesting aspect is that, unlike in other countries, the audience also becomes a partner in this exploitation. Audiences, particularly in Anatolia, have not shunned these films, leading many of them to become part of film series. As the “erotic era” approached—a trend that continued throughout that period—film producers began shaping their films based on feedback received from theater operators.  Ultimately, with producers and consumers sharing the same mindset, “cinema”—which had become increasingly shallow—turned into a self-destructive phenomenon, leading to the chaotic situation from which we still cannot extricate ourselves.

A common characteristic of the majority of these exploited works is that they originate from the United States. The fact that comic books and films—which, like many others, resonate with the Turkish public—originate from the U.S., along with the high viewership and global recognition these original films achieve in their own region, and the political influences of the era, are critical reasons for targeting the U.S.

Turksploitation films sometimes seek to settle scores with the U.S., sometimes to establish parity, sometimes to demonstrate superiority, and sometimes simply to mock the U.S. The films being parodied are America’s most iconic movies, comic books, and other classics: Superman, Star Wars, Star Trek, Spider-Man, E.T., The Wizard of Oz, and many others. In particular, *The Man Who Saved the World*, which can be considered the best *Star Wars* mockbuster, is a film that showcases the art of rip-off at its highest level and has quickly achieved cult status.

For the reasons mentioned above, unlike mockbusters from other countries, Turksploitation films feature top-tier actors and directors from the region where they were filmed: Metin Erksan, Eşref Kolçak, Sadri Alışık, Cüneyt Arkın, and Neriman Köksal are just a few of them. As the triangle of audience, theater owner, and producer became increasingly intertwined within the market they themselves had created, elements of sensationalism, violence, and sexuality began to be portrayed more frequently and more explicitly. This continued until VHS and television effectively confined the “female segment” of the movie-going audience—and ultimately couples—to their homes. Movie theaters were left to a crowd of adolescents struggling to navigate—or unable to navigate—their adolescence within a repressive society. The Turksploitation formula had collapsed. This end also marked the beginning of the erotic era—which would be cinema’s final gasp.