The Wild Pear Tree

The main character has a very rich and interesting personality, as well as the other characters that surround him. The cinematography is amazing as usual but some of the weird things that happen during the moving shots make them far less impressive than the glorious still shots.

It's very easy to find things from your own life within the story and the dialogues that occur which makes a lot of the little-longer-than-usual scenes very engaging and that makes you wonder how the dialogue is gonna develop and conclude.

I normally don't care too much about the length of movies but I'm a little bit on the negative side with this one. That's mainly because of what I told myself halfway through the movie which was; "Ohhh, we're only halfway" instead of "Yeahhh, we're only halfway".

It's about a young writer who recently finished university. He must move back to his village from the city where he went to school. So his struggles start as he doesn't want to get used to the village life.

I felt every minute of this very long Turkish film.

Long because it's, well, long (clocking in at just over three hours). But also long because the main character, who's in virtually every frame of the movie, is such an unpleasant person to hang out with. And part of the reason that he's so unpleasant is that he's recognizable, as I've been that person myself. He's young, fresh out of college, and thinks he knows everything there is to know about life despite having almost no experience of it himself. He's cocky, condescending, and unbearable. What ultimately makes him worth spending time with, and for that matter makes the whole movie worth sticking with, is the final scene, in which he comes to understand that the father who he's shunned because of all the life mistakes he's so determined not to make himself is perhaps the one person in his life who most understands him and most emulates the ideals the son goes around shoving down everyone's throat.

This is the kind of movie I wish I had seen with someone else so I could have someone to talk about it with. Throughout the film, the protagonist has little moments of.....I'm not sure what to call them.....daydreams? hallucinations? A scene will play out one way, and the it will abruptly shift gears and play out another, leading us to believe that the first version was in the protagonist's head. I'm not sure what to make of these breaks from reality. He's written a book that he's trying to get published, so maybe these episodes are a glimpse into how events play out in his book rather than how they did in reality? Or maybe it's the reverse. Maybe the movie we're watching is the book he wrote, and these moments are what actually happened. Or maybe it's neither and I'm overthinking. Maybe he's just a writer who is always attuned to alternative paths a person's narrative might take.

The ending didn't exactly make me feel like all of the three hours preceding it were necessarily worth it. I don't know why the movie had to be quite so long. But it did linger in my head and it's made the whole movie grow in stature for me when I think back on it. I don't know that I'd want to watch it again, but I'm glad I watched it once.

Grade: A

Watching Nuri Bilge Ceylan's film 'Ahlat Agaci' ('The Wild Pear Tree') is a cinematic experience that I would compare to reading some of the books of the classics of Russian literature. It's not easy reading, but it's catchy. The length of the books or of the movie exceeds the average, but as a viewer you do not feel the passage of time, because the writers or the film director in this case absorb you in their worlds. As in Chekhov, the characters of Ceylan's film live in a provincial city and the adjoining village, in a socially suffocating atmosphere and are surrounded by a human landscape composed of people unable to understand their intellectual aspirations. The Russian books (Tolstoy's for example) and Ceylan's films contain philosophical or historical diversions that give them an universal and perennial content that crosses the boundaries of geography and time.

Sinan Karasu is a young man who returns to his city and to his non-functional family after graduating college. The prospects of a college graduate are not too many or too attractive: either to take a teacher's exam after which he will be assigned to teach at a primary school in a remote area of Turkey, or join the army or the police. His father, Idris, is a teacher, but also a betting addict, which got him into debts, and led the family to losing the property of their house and living at the edge of a precarious existence. Idris's ambition seems to be to return to his native village, where in weekends he digs a fountain on a hillside, with little hope of ever hitting water. Young Sinan is also a writer, he wrote a book inspired by the local people and culture, but the kind of non-commercial book that finds neither editor nor reader public. The gaps between his aspirations and realities, between his ambitions and the mediocrity around are huge, and the result is a permanent conflict with a world with which he tries to entertain dialogues, but which he also approaches with a sense of intellectual superiority without foundation in social realities.

Like many other good movies (or books or other works of art), 'Ahlat Agaci' can be viewed and understood at several levels. At the personal level, the film has complex characters that we discover and we get to know better and better as we advance in the viewing, with the help the excellent acting performances of actors such as Dogu Demirkol, Murat Cemcir and Bennu Yildirimlar . There is also a political and social layer that is never explicit, maybe in order to allow the film to be easily distributed in Turkey and thus be accessible to the local audience, which is probably very important for a director like Nuri Bilge Ceylan, but also because true creators know how to convey messages without transforming their works into manifestos. Finally, there is a philosophical layer, more or less related to the main story, but which raises interesting issues such as the compromises that a writer is bound to make to gain popularity and what are their limits, or the relationship between religion and its institutions and their relevance in social life. Ceylan knows to tell a story and to film beautifully, and attentive viewers will also benefit from short moments of surreal insertions that deserve not to be missed. The film is long but in rare moments it feels so (the scene of the conversation with the two imams is the only one in which I had the impression that the cutting of a few minutes would have been beneficial), and the spectators will be rewarded at the end with one of the most exciting film finales which I have seen lately. A movie to see.

The film depicted a cliche plot of life that happen everywhere in the world that nobody in hollywood would ever produce. it's a loser story, something that might not be "inspiring", "uplifting", and just plain depressing and plays at key minor at an instrument (even tho there's some note changes at the end). it's a taboo song that people often treat as a myth. it's like discovering Bicycle Thieves and Mouchette once again.

It has been 21 years since Ceylan shot his first feature film Kasaba, whose main theme was an intellectual young man's desperate, family-stuck life in the countryside with no way out. After this film throughout his film career he focused on different themes as well of course, from middle class criticism (Climates) to film noir (Three Monkeys). But, being from Turkey, eventually in his last movies he returned to the countryside tales again. Especially this movie, The Wild Pear Tree, seemed to me as if Ceylan suffered from a partial amnesia and forgot that he shot the movie Kasaba. So he blended this "brand new film idea" with his recently developed film aesthetics and here we have The Wild Pear Tree.

In his first movies Ceylan barely had a story, he only had "themes". The rest of the movie was wonderful photography and this is what he got famous for. Then, founding clever collaborations, he learnt how to tell stories as well. But the question here is: does he really have a new story to tell? Turkey has changed a lot since Kasaba, but Ceylan's representations look like they are here to stay eternally. For instance, while Ceylan still hold on to the "intellectual stuck in the countryside" stereotype, intellectuals in the Turkish countryside either made it to the metropolises or they are replaced/outdated by the emerging religious elite.

So instead of telling a new story, Ceylan seems like he chose to "garnish" what he already has, with neverending dialogues unattached to each other. Dialogue with the girl, dialogue with the mayor, with the businessman, with the writer, with the police friend, with the imams and with this and this and this. Kind of a video game, one "countryside monster" at a time. So I think this movie is a rococo remake of minimalist Kasaba.

So if you tolerate the theatrical lines in the first dialogues, the movie is a nice one to see. But in comparison to the last 2 movies of Ceylan, this is certainly a step backwards (and surprisingly, this backwardness is evident also in the photography).