Distant

It has taken me about a year now after seeing this film to write about it. Lord knows I have wanted to, after witnessing it I knew I saw something I hadn't seen before but wasn't sure why. Now after reflecting for quite some time I know, it's these characters that even now I still can't stop thinking about.

Distant briefly and slowly tells the story of a relative (Yusuf) who comes from the rurals to live briefly with a well off to do photographer (Mahmut) in the city in hopes to find employment. However it becomes clear that after Yusuf hypothesizes the idea of being a sailor and his employment prospects dim, that he's really searching for something else, some sort of purpose in his life.

Through all this soul searching we are taken through seasonal surroundings that are filmed exquisitely. The context in which they happen makes the scenes more powerful in 2 particular ones when a girl Yusuf has been following suddenly meets up with her significant other, and the look of Yusuf's face as he looks into a basket of fish and the shot and light that reflects off his tortured face. That scene in itself has to be one of the most gorgeously filmed pieces I have witness in I don't know how long.

In the end Mahmut has his own demons too, but ends up confronting his relative that he is not really trying to find a job and is forced to ask him to leave, in a scene that is very simple but has the feeling of true heartbreak.

What the viewer is left with is lots of reflecting and pondering for these 2 people who everyone can see a piece of themselves in. You should not be put off by the pace of this film it is truly worth every single breathtaking second.

Rating 10 out of 10.

Distant is the story of two alienated people and their intercrossed lives that end up illustrating something about the fate of mankind in a downsizing world. The basic premise is that of a country bumpkin, Yusuf, with whose arrival at his cousin Mahmut's house begins a dance of discomfiture between the two men who have become distanced from their inner selves each in a separate way. Yusuf's removal from his feeding grounds is not enough to cast a pall over his mood, but his naïve, insecure optimism is quick to turn him into a permanent cripple in the frigid atmosphere of Istanbul when it is denied all nourishment from Mahmut whose sophistication is a casebook recipe for alienation. Mahmut is a photographer who has labored hard to make it in the big city and by Yusuf's arrival completely turned himself over to his profession.

The women in Mahmut's life are transits, too, in one way or another: his ex-wife, now married again, has come to terms with the fact that she was left infertile by an abortion, which still vexes Mahmut's conscience, and now she and her new husband have decided to move to a new country, possibly never to return. His mother is ill and dying, but Mahmut puts off going to see her in the hospital until three quarters into the movie when a surgery has left her wailing with pain and bemoaning her fate like almost every other character in this picture. The motif of ailing mothers is one of the crucial ties between the cousins, for Yusuf has one too. In contrast to Mahmut's neglectful attitude, the very first thing Yusuf does in Istanbul is to call his own mother. Nonetheless, neither man may hope to effect much change in the women from whom they are separated by physical or emotional distance. Not only can they relate to the relationships in their lives, but also neither man can form a new relationship throughout the movie, with Yusuf experiencing repeated rejections from one employer after another and both men never mustering the courage to formalize a relationship with the attractive women who pass through their lives. Both transits, the cousins find that their lives are peopled by the relationships of most transitory kind.

Like a symphony, the film plays around with the various meanings of its title in a virtuoso directorial performance by NB Ceylan, who has made a career out of enshrining Tarkovsky into the landscape of Turkish cinema. The influence of Tarkovsky here is felt not only in Mahmut's private screenings of Solaris, and the movie's decidedly meticulous cinematography, but also in the mysterious deployment of free indirect imagery (imagery of a character's thoughts), and a mystical signpost at the end of the movie that recalls Tarkovsky's Nostalghia. Interestingly, Distant won three Palme D'Ors at the Cannes film festival, where it was judged by no other than Steven Soderberg who has remade Solaris, that seminal masterpiece of Tarkovsky.

Unlike Tarkovsky and even Soderberg, however, Ceylan ends his film at a note that is nonetheless captivating for having been obvious for a very long time. The cousins drive each other to the brink and finally, disillusioned, Yusuf moves out and disappears from Mahmut's life. The story unfolds like a classic parable with readily identifiable and human elements that offset its "alien" features, such as its Turkish setting, and makes this film a universal and poignant tale of lives held at a devastating distance.

Reading some of the other reviews of this film, i was reminded of both good and not so good aspects of it. But overall, i have to say it is one of the better films i have seen from any number of genres or countries recently. More than anything else, it avoided many of the typical traps of more recent international cinema, like taking nice pictures of landscapes or being 'hip', 'fun' or imitating American films like pulp fiction. The film is unique in many ways. For one thing, it is a film about relationships in which sex plays no role (unusual, especially for foreign films). It is also a film about two men's relationship to each other (also unusual - not a 'buddy film', no homosexual tension, no ego/phallic competition). It uses little dialogue, but communicates a tremendous amount. It is a simple story, yet full of complex details which are easily understood by any human being and universal in their relevance. I did not find the film dark or depressing (everything would seem this way if you watch Hollywood happy ending films all the time), but rather a true reflection of human emotions. For instance, in the scene where Mahmut realizes his cousin is gone is you see both his feeling of relief, that the cousin is gone and yet regret, that he pushed him away. Who has not felt such ambivalence - when losing a friend or lover, or in some other situation? It's rare to get these kinds of real human emotions displayed on film in a non-cliché way. As far as culture is concerned, or this being a Turkish film, i feel it strikes the very difficult balance between being a 'Turkish' film - about realities which more apply to that place (the greater struggle to make it in a Turkish city versus a European one; the greater contrast between country and city), and a universal, human story which didn't necessarily have to be set in Turkey. In this day and age where people around the world are consuming culture and fetishizing it, this film does not try to entice us as 'Turkish', nor does it try to communicate it as a 'harsh reality', or 'that's how Turkey/Istanbul IS'. And yet the cultural elements are there. I think the comparison to 'lost in translation' that somebody made is quite good. Everyone, at least in the US, was raving about that film. I personally thought it was mediocre at best. It was well put by someone as a vague story which supposedly was supposed to deal with 'disorientation' that happens to people living or traveling overseas. Even if the film was supposed to be humorous, the characters and their motivations or crises were never clear (even for a 'lighter' film or comedy, this is necessary). And i found myself being treated to a typically 'orientalist' story of the alienated Amerian overseas. Going back to 'Distant', as for the idea that this is bad acting, or too slow, or has no plot, I'm sorry but people who say this know nothing about film making and maybe nothing about being human, no offense. You do not have to be a film aficionado or cultural connoisseur to appreciate this film. This film will be two hours of your time well spent!

People must learn to watch what is up there on the screen. This is a great film that is based on a slow, careful gathering of details which serve to establish the personalities of these two men. The passivity of Yusuf (Emin Toprak), the country cousin, is well described by his fear of talking to women. He has at least three chances to start a conversation with a young woman and loses all of them. He has many decades of bachelorhood ahead of him, and maybe unemployment as well.

Mahmut is a different case. He got out of the small town by working very hard (we imagine), and his resentment of slackers like Yusuf is palpable (he leaves crumbs on the expensive carpet--the slob!). We are shown a group of friends talking about Tarkovsky among other things, and we note that Mahmut feels regret--but only slight regret--that his work has become commercial over the years. The gulf between the cousins just gets wider and wider. The mouse trap theme is wonderfully vivid, it brings out the compassion and confusion of Yusuf, and the cold-blooded problem solving of Mahmut.

I was reminded of two classic films of men driving each other nuts: Les cousins by Chabrol (the rich boy with Hitlerian pretensions played by Brialy is always in my mind) and Kiss of the Spider Woman (William Hurt can't figure out why everybody's so mean). Nuri Bilge Ceylan takes his place among the dozen important directors now active. I just hope that in future he will come to rely on collaborators, instead of directing, writing and shooting his films himself.

This is a film about loneliness and how the distance – physical and emotional -- between people tends to stultify relationships.

The narrative is simple to the point of banality: a young man Yusuf (Emin Toprak), from a rural village, arrives in Istanbul to stay with his older and successful cousin Mahmut (Muzaffer Ozdemir); Yusuf wants work in the big city. After trying for a few weeks to find work without any success, the strain of having Yusuf living with him is too much for Mahmut. They quarrel – nothing physical, just verbal. Eventually, Yusuf goes, leaving Mahmut alone again. End of story...

Except for the fact that the performance of the two men as relatives is one of the best on film. Much is said visually; dialog is used to bring out disagreement, distrust, hostility, and insecurity that exist within and between the two men.

There are many visual gems in this film. For example, while searching for work, young Yusuf, needing a relationship, tries in vain to gain the attention of various young women around the city. The look on his face, as he is thwarted every time, says it all.

Or, wanting a cigarette, Yusuf opens the door to the balcony of Mahmut's apartment and lights up in the frigid December air, leaving the door open; Mahmut, eventually gets up from his work desk, walks to the door (all glass) and the cousins just look at each other for what seems way too long a time. Then Mahmut closes the door, leaving Yusuf out in the cold. The metaphor is complete.

Or, Mahmut cleaning up after Yusuf, grudgingly and with increasing anger; and all the while, Yusuf wastes his time chasing skirts instead of looking seriously for work, and spends Mahmut's money on a toy for a nephew… Yusuf is emotional, untidy, impulsive, and vulnerable. Mahmut is rational, logical, self-confident and a demanding control freak: the right-brain, left-brain dichotomy beautifully played out by two actors who say more with a look, a gesture, a frown than any words can convey.

But, Mahmut is not completely emotionless: he still loves his ex-wife who tells him that she's off to Canada with her husband-to-be. Mahmut affects a distant and confident friendship with his ex, and makes sure that she is okay about going. He wishes her well. He says goodbye. He leaves the coffee shop where they were talking. Later when she calls to say a last goodbye, on the way to the airport, Mahmut goes there and secretly watches as she leaves. The poignancy of the emotion on his face, as she disappears through a door, is worth the wait.

All in all, this is a standout piece of work by the two main actors and the director, Nuri Ceylan. Some might argue that the pace is too slow; but life goes slowly for much of the time, especially for those who are alone. The camera work is relatively simple also: choose the scene, set up the camera and lighting, and let the actors move across the scene, enter the scene and leave the scene, all the while keeping the camera still. There were a few panning shots, some high-angle tracking shots, a few rural scenes – but much of the film is shown as though on a stage with a fixed camera and a wide angle lens. Except for TV and radio music within the story, there is no music sound track. And, there are those many long silences as the two men sit and watch TV together and/or engage in very limited conversation.

I saw this movie on TV so I was amused to see that, on a few occasions, I was watching TV as they were watching TV also. The silence in the movie matched the silence in my house (I was awake, all others in bed); my chair and position matched that of Mahmut's as he watched TV. Quite eerie, giving me a sense of almost 'being there' with him… And, I guess I was, in a sense.

I'll say no more, because I want you to savor the other scenes that I haven't described. It's not a movie for everybody, for sure. More than any movie I've seen, it shows just how much we die when we are all alone – just as we are all alone when we die. Mahmut's face, as it fades to black in the final scene, will stay with me for a long, long time...

Highly recommended for serious movie buffs.