Sonbahar

The characters are clearly under-developed, it would've added more depth to the film if there were more conversations, decent ones, and if the stimulating of the memories of prison wasn't through news materials. For more over all the film was a satisfying experience and I'm giving it 9 mainly for the great cinematography.

A poet says 'To one thing on the earth my heart burns for / those who passed away in the spring of their life'. And it is Autumn: Sonbahar which in Turkish means the last spring. Ozcan Alper's debut is about the evils the seasons do against the political prisoner Yusuf who was released for health reasons. Because of his socialist convictions he spent the spring-time of his life in prison. He comes back to his hometown. His mother takes care of him. He meets a Georgian girl and they fell in love. She suffers from the post-socialist conditions in her native country and is left with no other option than prostitute. Two victims of the same ideology, two lonely and tortured souls find a sheltering love in each other. But Yusuf's days are countable! Shot in beautiful locations in the Black Sea region which is also my hometown, the visuals of AUTUMN are simply magic and breath-taking. The Black Sea is the heart and inner world of Yusuf. Black Sea is an angry and rough, undulated sea. It is a rebellious sea as you'll see in one of the most beautiful scenes of the film where Yusuf walks over the sea on the small breakwater. The film has a sad end, the characters fall aside like Autumn leaves.. What else to say: the film is a beauty like a black pearl! It was also a box-office success in Turkey for an art-house film. Just see the film to discover more! 8 out of 10...

Sonbahar represents a realm that metaphorically speaking belongs to silence. Yousuf seems to have that depth with which he can journey from speech to whisper to silence.This film took sadness to a height what I have rarely witnessed in films. The Russian hooker, who is a very young mother too, says to Yousuf, "You know, you seem like you don't live in the present. ... It's like you've walked off the pages of a Russian novel." Exactly that is the point. Everything is past for Yousuf -- even his sadness too -- which is now blank because, as Michail says, everything has gone -- even socialism. Now their girls become hookers. Yousuf remains in the past, he is past everything -- even pains and all. The young boy whom he tries to teach rejects him too. All the memories of university jail and all come like scattered pictures. And that exactly is the depth of blankness depicted in this film. The sad hooker goes away. Only waves rise and fall -- rise and fall -- and everything ends with a death -- a procession of death walking through the valleys. And one thing to say, the eaarlier review by 'eray-basma' mentioned that Sonbahar tries to be like Tarkovsky. I do not know why she/he said it. But, on my part I can say, for more than the last four decades Tarkovsky is like a god to me, both Tarkovsky and his poet father are like a milestone to me in human culture. But not a single time I remembered him during the movie. When it is only sadness and sadness -- the sadness becomes blank and all pervading. Sonbahar is that. Salute to the director.

Damn, it ends like a Russian novel too. The lonely silhouette against the troubled sea, the emptiness, the hopelessness, the sadness, the cold.

Another Turkish movie set in a small village in the mountains where time stood still and people live at their own pace, in stark contrast to city people. I always love seeing those houses, the interiors, the simple people, the daily chores, the mountains, the rivers, the fog, the rain, the greenery all around. These tend to be slow, contemplative movies but I wouldn't mind watching them cause it reminds me of my childhood in a sense and of simpler times.

There's nothing simple about Yusuf's situation. His ideals have been dashed, his health is shot, his life is uncertain, his future as foggy as the mornings to which he wakes up every day. He's also got some PTSD from jail and who knows what else is going on in his head. And what is the use after all. His friend Mikhail is a mirror of what his life could have been in the village. Then a woman comes into his life, cause there's always a woman in movies. But there's a lot more behind Yusuf's dark eyes. Surprisingly it's also a political movie to a small extent. But the ending is open cause how else could you end this pile-up on poor Yusuf...

"You know, you seem like you don't live in the present. It's like you've walked off the pages of a Russian novel. Yusuf, you know what I've been thinking? I wish I could leave everything behind and set off on a long journey with you."

Another piece of wonderful minimalist cinema (i'm nothing if not consistent) this time from a Turkish filmmaker making his debut feature. Yusuf, a political prisoner, is released from jail on health grounds and returns to the tiny village community he grew up in.

As you might expect from that premise this is a film with a political message which is at times forced upon the viewer, a distraction from the contemplative mood of the piece as Yusuf comes to terms with everything he gave up for his ideals, his new found freedom, his mortality and his struggle to reintegrate with village life.

Packed with beautiful vistas and long moody takes without dialogue it is the use of ambient noise, or at times a lack of, that most impressed and so the occasionally invasive use of melodramatic music only served to irritate rather than accentuate the moment.

The sub story of his connection with a young boy and a prostitute are pretty standard narrative devices but never feel arbitrary, which in itself is impressive but the emotional arc they guide you through places them as some of the more impressive uses of the trope I have seen.

Quality low budget world cinema from a strong new voice worth keeping an eye on.