Following the collapse of Yesilcam (Turkey's answer to Hollywood) in the mid '90s few but the most prescient of observers could have foreseen such a recent pique in the Turkish film industry, arguably built upon the work of ex-photographer Nuri Bilge Ceylan.
Uzak is the director's third feature and forms something of a trilogy with his two earlier pictures (Kasaba and Clouds of May), following similar themes and techniques. The film finds Mahmoud, a commercial photographer, living alone in a small Istanbul apartment only visited occasionally by his brusque, married lover. Yusuf, his nephew, has left his village home after the closure of a factory and the loss of his job. The younger man stays with Mahmoud while fruitlessly looking for work in the city, drinking in cafés and nervously observing young women he never approaches.
The film's title is translated as "Distant", and the film beautifully illustrates every possible connotation of the word; Yusuf's physical distance from his home, Mahmoud's emotional distance from the world around him and the generational distance between the two men.
Ceylan's films rarely contain heightened dramatics, instead allowing full and rich characters to develop from within the tightly framed, static shots. He acts as director, producer, writer, cinematographer and co-editor and casts friends and family in many of the roles. Such a confined, insulated approach to film-making might be expected to lead to films hard to infiltrate and connect with for most viewers, making Uzak's undoubted humanity all the more impressive.
Ceylan is, however, a better cinematic formalist than dramatist, taking the reigns from such past masters of cinematic language as Ozu and Tarkovsky. After viewing Uzak, I can think of few better suited to the task.
Uzak is the director's third feature and forms something of a trilogy with his two earlier pictures (Kasaba and Clouds of May), following similar themes and techniques. The film finds Mahmoud, a commercial photographer, living alone in a small Istanbul apartment only visited occasionally by his brusque, married lover. Yusuf, his nephew, has left his village home after the closure of a factory and the loss of his job. The younger man stays with Mahmoud while fruitlessly looking for work in the city, drinking in cafés and nervously observing young women he never approaches.
The film's title is translated as "Distant", and the film beautifully illustrates every possible connotation of the word; Yusuf's physical distance from his home, Mahmoud's emotional distance from the world around him and the generational distance between the two men.
Ceylan's films rarely contain heightened dramatics, instead allowing full and rich characters to develop from within the tightly framed, static shots. He acts as director, producer, writer, cinematographer and co-editor and casts friends and family in many of the roles. Such a confined, insulated approach to film-making might be expected to lead to films hard to infiltrate and connect with for most viewers, making Uzak's undoubted humanity all the more impressive.
Ceylan is, however, a better cinematic formalist than dramatist, taking the reigns from such past masters of cinematic language as Ozu and Tarkovsky. After viewing Uzak, I can think of few better suited to the task.