The Shadow Play of Karagöz and Hacivat

For centuries, a screen of thinly stretched hide, lit from behind by one small lamp, has been enough to bring two quarrelsome companions to life. Karagöz and Hacivat stand at the centre of the Turkish shadow play, known as gölge oyunu, a form of puppetry that combines comedy, music and sharp observation of everyday life. Watching it, an audience sees silhouettes move across a glowing rectangle while a single performer supplies every voice from behind the cloth.

Origins and the Legend of Şeyh Küşteri

The roots of shadow puppetry are debated. Some accounts connect it to traditions that travelled from Central Asia, while others point to wider Middle Eastern and Mediterranean practices that used light and cut-out figures to tell stories. What is certain is that the Karagöz form took on a distinct character in the Ottoman world and became closely tied to urban life in cities such as Bursa and Istanbul.

A much-loved legend gives the tradition a founding figure named Şeyh Küşteri, described in folk memory as a holy man whose antics with two friends were later recreated as puppets on a screen. Puppeteers have long honoured this story, and the screen itself is sometimes called Küşteri perdesi in reference to it. The tale is told as a legend rather than a documented fact, and that ambiguity is part of its charm.

In 2009, the Karagöz shadow play was inscribed on UNESCO's Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, a recognition of the skill and knowledge that performers pass from one generation to the next.

Two Characters, One Endless Argument

Karagöz is the unlettered man of the street: blunt, quick-tempered, funny and often hungry. He speaks plainly and reacts to the world with immediate emotion. Hacivat is his opposite, a polished and educated figure who talks in poetry, borrows words from other languages and tries to keep the conversation respectable.

The comedy grows from the gap between them. Hacivat opens with a graceful phrase, Karagöz misunderstands it deliberately, and the exchange collapses into an argument that usually ends with Hacivat complaining and Karagöz storming off. Around this pair, a puppeteer arranges a whole cast of stock figures, each with a recognisable accent, costume and manner: the dandy Çelebi, the rough Tuzsuz Deli Bekir, the flirtatious Zenne, the small and cheeky Beberuhi, and characters drawn from different regions of the empire.

Behind the Screen: The Art of the Puppeteer

The figures themselves, called tasvir, are traditionally cut from camel or ox hide. The hide is treated, flattened and shaped into intricate outlines, then coloured with dyes so that the translucent material glows when the light passes through it. Rods attached to the lower edge let the puppeteer tilt and move each figure against the screen.

The performer, known as a hayali, stands behind the screen with the light source behind him and manipulates the puppets while voicing all the characters. He may be joined by an assistant who plays a tambourine, sings and keeps the rhythm, allowing the main performer to concentrate on dialogue and movement.

Timing is everything. A well-worked silhouette can suggest a dance, a fight, a boat ride or a tumbler's trick, and the audience follows the story through gesture as much as through words.

Music, Structure and Story

A traditional performance unfolds in several stages. It begins with a short prologue in which Hacivat sings and calls for his companion, followed by a comic dialogue that has little to do with the plot. The main section then presents a story with musical interludes, and the evening closes with a brief, calm farewell.

Music is woven through the whole piece, drawing on Turkish classical modes and folk melodies. Songs are matched to characters and moods, and the tambourine sets a steady pulse beneath the spoken lines. Because a single performer carries the tale for a long time, the shifts between song, speech and silence give the evening its shape.

Ramazan Nights and Everyday Celebrations

Shadow theatre has long been associated with Ramazan, when performances filled the hours after the evening meal in coffeehouses and courtyards. The screen became a gathering point for neighbours, and the satirical edge of the plays suited the relaxed mood of those nights.

The same entertainment appeared at weddings, circumcision feasts and public celebrations. Stories could gently tease local officials or comment on daily worries, which is one reason the tradition stayed popular across very different audiences. Over time, puppeteers also adapted older plots, adding new characters and fresh jokes to keep the form alive.

Karagöz in the Present Day

Today the shadow play is kept going by dedicated puppeteers, cultural centres and university programmes that teach the craft of cutting figures and voicing characters. Museums and heritage collections in Türkiye preserve historical tasvir sets, showing how styles of drawing and colour varied between workshops.

Festivals in cities such as Bursa, where the tradition has deep roots, bring together performers and audiences each year. Some artists experiment with new materials, lighting and scripts while keeping the familiar screen and rods, and others perform for children in schools, introducing Karagöz and Hacivat to a new generation.

The result is a tradition that still feels immediate. Behind the glowing cloth, two silhouettes argue as they always have, turning a simple trick of light into an evening of laughter and music.