Drei Affen

Extremely emotional. Sadness, happiness, love, family relationships, in a brief, you can find every emotion that we have in the movie. Well acting, good screenplay, enough picture. One of my favorite.

Driving in the dark of night, in the middle of nowhere, a car takes a right turn and disappears. Descending. Not to death. Hell is one word for it. Another is role-playing. Another is the seer. The opposite of which, is the monkey. Three Monkeys is one of the greatest films of the year from a country that is not in its cinematic golden age, but which we ought to applaud for one of the greatest efforts of contemporary cinema. In a world wherein art has no place whatsoever, the world of the film, where death is as close as stupidity and narrow-mindedness, love forgotten and humanity reduced to means, this film attempts to rekindle a glimpse of hope for those who see it. But it is as fragile as the ghost of a child that haunts its inhabitants. A brilliant cast, almost flawless cinematography and a poetic direction reminiscent of the great works portraying Hell, this film welcomes a refreshing take on realism with surrealist brush-strokes that in my opinion could only benefit from one single element: a return of the gaze. Unfortunately, this film may be lost in the torrents of mainstream audiences. It is also to be respected then, for not making any effort, not pretending, and in my view, ultimately disregarding, any aspirations to popularity. This is fully in accord with the atmosphere of the film itself. And this, if anything, demands critical appraisal.

There is something about Nuri Bilge Ceylan's films that have always set itself apart from other films on the international stage: its ability to resonate with an audience. Although set in Turkey his films' story lines have the ability to connect with an audience from any region while also being able to utilize a major city's inner-turmoil via its transmitting landscapes, exhaustive loneliness and its sheer beauty. And "Three Monkeys" is no exception.

The story is the most complex and inter-connected of Ceylan's career and because of this he opts to use actors with previous experience for the first time (outside of his actress wife in "Climates"). A series of hidden secrets and unfolding lies keeps the family distant and increasingly torn apart from each other until a breaking point brings them back full circle. The "best-laid-plans" aspect of the film gives it a tinge of film-noir as it uses this device to present the family in its wondrous failures.

Having seen each of Ceylan's previous works my first expectation before seeing this film was breathtaking cinematography (and it did not disappoint in the least). Seeing Ceylan present the wondrous rain clouds that burst and crash above the dusty traffic-filled streets of Istanbul throughout this film as well as many of his others never gets old. "Three Monkeys" itself starts with a beautiful presentation of a car riding hidden paths that circle inside a forest's midnight darkness before it disappears from sight completely perhaps evoking questions as to why anyone would need to make their way through such landscapes at such an hour but at the risk of being cliché: "c'est la vie".

The use of established actors provided some consolation for the audience who could believe and connect with three characters who slowly went about their lives of self-destruction and self-deception until all secrets and lies were laid out on the table for the whole family to bear. The father who went through great hardship for his family finds only heartbreak following his efforts, the guilt-ridden son who is haunted by the memory of a younger brother whose tragic death he feels responsible for and must now deal with the knowledge of a mother who has found the love and affection of another man who is simply using her. The wide array of camera angles and mixture of shots of varying range and clarity enables Ceylan to convey the feelings and thoughts of his characters while still allowing the audience to follow the foreshadowing plot.

The usual Ceylan trademarks resonate within "Three Monkeys" both technically and spiritually while also showing his audience that with each time-out and with each film he can take his stories and characters into a completely new direction while taking his audience along for the ride. The slow, motionless shots give the audience a silence that swells with his characters' feelings and showcases a family's ability to communicate without words. This film has the ability to simultaneously show an audience a beautiful city and its inhabitants while also revealing real-life characters who let their emotions go to the extreme due to jealousy, rage and lust which can be found within anyone in the world.

Note: At Cannes, Ceylan picked up the Best Director prize and the film was subsequently chosen by Turkey to be its nominee for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

I can't remember if I've ever seen a Turkish film before, which is a pity, because if Three Monkeys is anything to go by, I have missed some terrific movies.

This is a dark, stylish, noir thriller which sees a man agreeing to take the rap for his political master who is involved in a car accident. In return for doing time for a crime he did not commit, his boss will continue to pay his salary to his family, and also settle the 'debt' with a lump sum payment when the man is eventually released. While he is in prison, his wife is left to hold the family together and she and her son quickly get caught up in a web of passion and betrayal.

Director, Nuri Bilge Ceylan carried off the Best Director Award at Cannes for this, his fifth feature, and it's not hard to see why.

Three Monkeys is is a dark, brooding film, where every shot has been thought through and framed with meticulous detail. Long, intense close ups of the principal characters produces sustained psychological tension as unspoken words seem to fly through the air like knives.

The principal cast of Three Monkeys; Yavuz Bingöl, Hatice Aslan, Ahmat Rifal Sungar, and Ercan Kesal, are universally good, but top credits should go to Hatice Aslan, the femme fatale of the piece, who has the ability to convey many layers of meaning by saying little and feeling much.

Highly recommended.

When I saw Distant (2002) by the same director, Nuri Ceylan, I was suitably impressed with his cinematic technique: sparse dialog, enclosed simple sets, very long takes, long static shots, little or no music sound track, minimal cast of characters – and essentially allows the story to unfold by simply observing what people do. The next film of Ceylan's I saw, Climates (2006), used similar techniques and followed a similar pattern; but I liked Distant more, at that time.

With this one, Nuri Ceyaln has proved that he is truly a master of visual story-telling. Moreover, this is a more compelling and a more intense story than the above two because it delves into the daily, banal evil that occurs – and is often covered up – in families in all cultures in real life, all of which is implicitly contained within the title. Curiously, as a boy long ago whenever I visited my paternal grandmother, I would almost always pick up the same ornament – a trio of monkeys in a row and in appropriate poses – with the words Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil inscribed in the base. At that time, I thought it was quite funny to look at...

This story illustrates those frailties when Servet (Ercan Kesal), a local businessman and wannabe politician, accidentally kills a pedestrian with his car at night and desperately pressures his chauffeur, Eyup (Yavuz Bingol) to take the rap for him – for a good price – which inevitably leads to the spiral of doubt, distrust and evil that eventually overshadows Eyup, his wife, Hacer (Hatice Aslan) and his son, Ismail (Ahmet Sungar). And throughout the story, the lack of dialog heightens the disconnect that grows between the father, mother and son, all of whom live at the top of a reasonably affluent blocks of apartments overlooking a railway which parallels a freeway, and with the open sea as a backdrop .

Those who know Ceylan's films know he likes long, static takes in either extremely long shot or medium to extreme close up; so, viewers won't be disappointed at all. Coupled with Ceylan's proclivity to have the actors face on to the camera more than any other director I've seen (and without breaking the fourth wall), viewers can savor and even wonder at the effect the actors have upon them as they watch – an effect so strong that I, at least, actually have the feeling of being there; and in this film particularly.

Complications continue, though, when Hacer thinks she is falling in love with Servet (who is married, of course) after he seduces her just once; thereafter, she won't let him go, much to his displeasure and despite his threats directed to her. And, after Eyup is released from prison nine months later, things really go down the toilet when he begins to suspect what we, as voyeurs, know already; and they reach rock bottom when Servet is found dead, murdered. Meanwhile, young Ismail attempts to make his way in the world while silently witnessing his parents' difficulties.

Overshadowing the family's problems is the poignant memory of the son who apparently drowned while still very young – a recollection that still affects all three.

One thing, of course, always leads to another. But here, not only is the resolution of the murder a surprise, but the aftermath is what really got me: a totally unexpected, but deliciously ironic narrative closure that makes diabolical sense in yet another oh-so-real-life story about the devil's playground viz. human relationships.

Do see this movie from one of the best directors in the world today. And take note of the quality of the actors and the stunning photography – particularly the long, final shot of Eyup atop his apartment as he looks out to sea – while you are entertained with a story as old as antiquity. I look forward to seeing Once Upon a Time in Anatolia. I hope you also feel the same.

Highly recommended – but definitely not for action/thriller fans and rev-heads.

March 8, 2012