Ertugrul is a shock to the modern, liberal Hollywood-
lockdown has been good to TV, especially mythological shows. India is neck-deep in Ramayana and Mahabharata. I had read of Dirilis: Ertugrul (Resurrection on Netflix) as a wildly popular ‘Muslim Game of Thrones’ and was only idly curious, but the evening I clicked on season 1, episode 1, life as I knew it ended. I surfaced a few months later, feeling like a pigeon that got away from the snake. The show is ludicrously, bewitchingly long. On Netflix, it racks up 448 episodes over five seasons, a huge middle finger to modern busy-ness. If you edited out all the gratuitous slow-motion shots, the round robin of welcome home hugs, and every time someone says ‘Inshallah’ or ‘Amin’, you would probably end up with three 10-episode seasons, but it would also be no fun. Fast forward, and you risk missing some crucial, plot-turning sentences. Ertugrul (pronounced Air-thu-rool), handsome, courageous, is the third son of Suleyman Shah, chief of the preeminent Kayi tribe in 13th century Anatolia. The tribe migrates constantly to fresh pasturelands, fighting off Mongols and dreaming of a permanent homeland. Ertugrul is a rocker of boats and prefers hunting to politics, but he is his father’s natural heir, destined to lead the Oghuz tribes to greatness. On a hunt unexpectedly turned rescue mission, Ertugrul brings home the beautiful Seljuk princess Halime, and with her, a host of very large problems. Their epic romance propels the rustic Kayis into palace intrigues, politics and wars that lay the foundation for the Ottoman empire.
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