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Angst,
alienation and Tarkovsky
Two cousins discover the
loneliness of the big city in this Turkish drama from filmmaker Nuri Bilge
Ceylan The spaces between us prove impossible to bridge in Uzak (Distant), the angst-ridden third feature from Turkish filmmaker Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Set in Istanbul during a particularly cold and bleak winter, Uzak follows country lad Yusuf (Toprak), who comes up to the city in search of work following the closure of the factory in his home village. He turns up on the doorstep of cousin Mahmut (Özdemir), a fortysomething photographer eking out a precarious existence shooting pictures of still-lives. It's only supposed to be for a few days, but his visit drags on and on as Yusuf struggles to find work. A languorously-paced, dialogue-light drama from one-man film studio Ceylan (who writes, produces, directs and shoots), Uzak is a compelling take on big city alienation set against the backdrop of Turkey's economic recession. As the snowbound landscapes suggest, it's a bleak tale that never properly thaws out. Yusuf and Mahmut's relationship barely extends beyond cursory politeness and angry accusations. While Ceylan's repetitive images of the two men sitting alone in bars smoking or gazing at flickering TV sets in darkened rooms occasionally seem like over-insistent meditations on boredom, the filmmaker coaxes just enough energy out of this precarious scenario to give the story momentum. Mahmut's failed relationships and faltering career suggest a man on the brink of despair, while Yusuf's crippling shyness prevents him from chatting up any of the young girls he follows through shops. At the centre of it all is the Turkish appreciation of hospitality, something that the increasingly modern lifestyles of the city is slowly eroding. "This town has changed you," Yusuf whispers after his cousin has an outburst about his habit of smoking in the lounge, not flushing the toilet and making too much mess. Making explicit and repeated references to Russian filmmaker Tarkovsky - Mahmut regularly watches videotapes of Solaris and Stalker - Uzak certainly possesses the same staid pacing and mournful air as that master of slow cinema. Yet unlike Tarkovsky, Ceylan doesn't seem to be interested in offering his characters any great spiritual insights or revelations. Instead, he traps each of them within a prison of their own making. Neither can lift the other out of their melancholic reveries and not even the film's occasional moments of humour - Mahmut switching from Solaris to a Turkish porn channel as soon as his guest leaves the room - can convince us that there's anything in store for either of these men than a life of perpetual, crushing ennui.
Verdict
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