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Turkish director Pelin Esmer ("Oyun") follows up on her début documentary short "Koleksiyoncu: The Collector" with this full-length feature loosely based on the story of her obsessive collector uncle which has picked up awards at the Istanbul, Altın Koza and Ankara international film festivals as well as a number of foreign awards.

Elderly collector Mithat (Mithat Esmer) and newly arrived concierge Ali (Nejat Isler) find their lonely lives becoming increasingly intertwined with each-other and the city Istanbul itself, which for one exists to be catalogued and for the other is a fearful unknown, as they become the last two inhabitants of a condemned apartment block.

Consummate professional Nejat Isler ("Everything About Mustafa " and "Egg") puts in a subtly nuanced central performance whilst ageing débutante Mithat Esmer looks a bit shaky in places but none-the-less performs admirably in a role based on himself and together the two evolve a convincing and emotive relationship.

The director has cleverly counterbalanced the story of her uncle with that of an equally alienated individual in a way that allows the characters to drive the story in a way still seemingly innovative in Turkish cinema whilst at the same time preventing the all to easy descent into sentimental nostalgia that could have all to easily plagued the production.

"Did it record everything?"

First things first: the script is probably as close to real life as it can be. Main protagonist Mithat Esmer (RIP), who also happened to be the uncle of the director Pelin Esmer, was really a collector and played his real self. Viewed in this light, the director, imho, is paying her respects to this really unique person, as well as letting us to join her at puzzling over the mystery of her enigmatic "uncle the collector".

In addition to the really pure and unforced acting of Mithat Esmer and Nejat Isler, the neighbours, the mood in the post-earthquake "tear down-and-rebuild" era Istanbul is portrayed strikingly authentic. The documentary mannered shots in the streets of Istanbul or the scenes with the street/small business vendors(most of which are probably real characters and no actors) do not feel like out of place at all even though rest of the movie has a rather "cinematic" feel.

And the ending, oh that ending. It could not have been crafted any better. Without wanting to spoil it, the unadorned, unpretentious, slow but effective language of the movie, reaches its peak one last time before everything "disappears in nothingness" forever.

If you like a bittersweet story, real characters, dont miss this slow burn gem.

To fully comprehend and grasp the dramatic dimensions of this film, I recommend to watch the documentary " the Collector" too, which she made 7 years before this one.

Why stick with an almost two hour film about a stubborn, ungrateful, elderly hoarder with OCD tendencies? Is it because I too have exhibited such behavior from time to time (with emphasis on the word "time")? Or is it because director Pelin Esmer invests this potentially repellent character with such a beguiling aura of pity and sympathy, with various denizens of his Istanbul neighborhood trying to ameliorate his lonely, imperiled existence, that you cannot help but hope for at least a bittersweet ending, a hope that is more than fulfilled.

Don't know anything about this fine director but certainly hope to see more of her work.

Give it an A minus. Why not an A? Well, at times this film's pace, like its protagonist, is a bit doddering.

Mithat Esmer is a collector. He collects runs of newspapers, hand-powered lanterns, stamps, bottle of drinks, you name it, he collects it and stacks it in his apartment and outside the front door. His apartment leaks because the stacks are pulling the floors open; he scoffs at that explanation, since the floors are rated at 300 kilograms, and all that light paper can't weigh more than a fraction of that.

I don't know what to make of this movie, which is the daily routine of a hoarder. I've known a few in my life. I helped -- or tried to help -- one move, and the process was rendered endless by his insistence on taking everything; when I tried to dump several hundred pencil stubs, he insisted on examining each individually to determine if it was worth transporting halfway across Brooklyn, until I dumped them all in the trash and told him I'd buy him him a box of brand new pencils, which he could sharpen in any of his eight pencil-sharpeners.

I;'m not totally unsympathetic; I've collected things in my life: comic books, VHS tapes, coins, first editions.... nowadays I'm pleased to live in a mostly empty, the walls of which are decorated with paintings and drawings I've accumulated over the years. At a certain point I learned to view myself as more than a collection of things, and I think I'm better for it.