Uzak - Weit

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.

"Uzak" was Nuri Bilge Ceylan's third film but it was the one that established him internationally and marked him out as a world class director. It's an astonishingly mature and imaginative picture displaying great visual acuity as well as a deep understanding of human nature. It's about two cousins, Mahmut, a photographer whose wife has left him and Yusuf, who has come to stay with him while looking for a job. At first their relationship is cordial and friendly but gradually Yusuf begins to get on Mahmut's nerves. Ceylan tells his tale with great empathy and a good degree of humour, despite the sadness at the centre and draws wonderful performances from Muzaffer Ozdemir as Mahmut and Emin Toprak as Yusuf. Tragically, Toprak was killed in a car accident just after the film was completed and posthumously shared the best actor prize at Cannes with his co-star. Absolutely essential viewing.

Mahmut (Muzaffer Ozdemir) is a successful photographer living in his middle-class apartment in Istanbul. His wife has recently left him, and he is suffering from feelings of isolation and loneliness. Mahmut's cousin Yusuf (Emin Toprak) loses his factory job (along with possibly 1000 others in his hometown) and travels to Istanbul to find work on the ships, where he hears the money is plentiful and easy. Yusuf moves in with Mahmut, and the social and emotional distance between the two is immediately apparent. As time goes by, Yusuf struggles to find work and desperately searches for love (or sex) to no avail, while Mahmut becomes increasingly frustrated with Yusuf's slobbish attitudes and lethargic attitude.

Director Nuri Bilge Ceylan's background is in photography, leading to a natural progression into films. His eye for photographic beauty is evident as Uzak is often astonishing in it's framing and colour saturation. Istanbul is shot with an aura of misery, and these two lonely souls gaze out to the grey sea with the rain and drizzle falling upon their slumped shoulders. However, amongst the greys and the browns, Uzak proves to be an extremely funny film, with Ceylan drawing humour from the most mundane of everyday occurrences. I found the most subtly funny scene is where Mahmut and Yusuf watch Tarkovsky's Stalker (1979), with Yusuf getting bored at what looks like around the twenty minute point. Yusuf leaves, and Mahmut quickly puts a porn video in. Yusuf re- enters causing Mahmut to quickly turn the channel over, only for Yusuf to linger over his shoulder mindlessly staring at the TV. It brilliantly captures the increasing tension between the two, while laughing at their ridiculous situation.

The title Uzak translates at Distant, referring to the social, emotional and spiritual distance between the two, but it also refers to the global distance that is appearing in society as the world gets smaller. Communication is easier yet harder. Although Mahmut and Yusuf are physically and geographically together, they are miles apart. Mahmut is sophisticated and clean (or at least he likes to think of himself like this and models himself on Tarkovsky, but as the aforementioned scene proves, he'd much rather watch a bit of porn) and Yusuf is uneducated and messy. Mahmut has sacrificed personal happiness to live out his idyllic middle-class lifestyle, and Yusuf lazes around expecting a job and money to come to him, leading him to live out his miserable, sexually inactive life. Uzak is occasionally grim and contains little dialogue, but Ceylan's amazing eye for humour and social commentary make it a wonderful experience. And special mention must go to the two leads, who are brilliant in their roles, making it all the more tragic that Emin Toprak was killed shortly after the filming was complete.

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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.

It's probably a year since I saw Uzak, but it has left strong memories of the two main characters, jaded photographer Mahmut and his naive cousin from the village Yusuf.

It's a long film with very little dialogue and a quite limited plot. This has evidently annoyed a fair few viewers. But the film constructs such a painfully believable portrait of Mahmut and Yusuf that there's just as much emotional tension as in the paciest thriller.

Just to be clear, there's no padding in this film -- in the long pauses where no one speaks there as much happening in the characters' emotions (and in yours, watching them) as you could bear. Go to see it awake and alert, and you'll be gripped rather than anaesthetised.

Uzak rings true in so many ways, and that sincerity is probably its greatest accomplishment. People don't grapple with events and problems, so much as with each other. In fact, in the whole film, there's probably not one point where the main characters (Mahmut, Yusuf and Mahmut's ex-wife Nazan) are not opposed.

Much of it is true the world over: country cousin Yusuf's perhaps wilfully naive expectation that a job on a ship will drop into his lap; Mahmut's urbanised cynicism and unwillingness to sympathise with Yusuf.

Other truths are more-specific to Turkey: Yusuf's incomprehension that Mahmut might be tolerating his stay with gritted teeth; Yusuf veering between macho ambition and wide-eyed awkwardness when he tries to get to know a woman.

Uzak is undoubtedly a pretty bleak film, and one Ceylan's strengths is not to beat us over the head with the themes he explores. For me at least, I believed entirely in the behaviour of his characters. All the little failed attempts to connect and petty cruelties ring so true. And yet I didn't leave with a message that "The world is like that", but instead I got "This is how we sometimes treat each other."