Uzak

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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It has taken me about a year now after seeing this film to write about it. Lord knows I have wanted to, after witnessing it I knew I saw something I hadn't seen before but wasn't sure why. Now after reflecting for quite some time I know, it's these characters that even now I still can't stop thinking about.

Distant briefly and slowly tells the story of a relative (Yusuf) who comes from the rurals to live briefly with a well off to do photographer (Mahmut) in the city in hopes to find employment. However it becomes clear that after Yusuf hypothesizes the idea of being a sailor and his employment prospects dim, that he's really searching for something else, some sort of purpose in his life.

Through all this soul searching we are taken through seasonal surroundings that are filmed exquisitely. The context in which they happen makes the scenes more powerful in 2 particular ones when a girl Yusuf has been following suddenly meets up with her significant other, and the look of Yusuf's face as he looks into a basket of fish and the shot and light that reflects off his tortured face. That scene in itself has to be one of the most gorgeously filmed pieces I have witness in I don't know how long.

In the end Mahmut has his own demons too, but ends up confronting his relative that he is not really trying to find a job and is forced to ask him to leave, in a scene that is very simple but has the feeling of true heartbreak.

What the viewer is left with is lots of reflecting and pondering for these 2 people who everyone can see a piece of themselves in. You should not be put off by the pace of this film it is truly worth every single breathtaking second.

Rating 10 out of 10.

Reading some of the other reviews of this film, i was reminded of both good and not so good aspects of it. But overall, i have to say it is one of the better films i have seen from any number of genres or countries recently. More than anything else, it avoided many of the typical traps of more recent international cinema, like taking nice pictures of landscapes or being 'hip', 'fun' or imitating American films like pulp fiction. The film is unique in many ways. For one thing, it is a film about relationships in which sex plays no role (unusual, especially for foreign films). It is also a film about two men's relationship to each other (also unusual - not a 'buddy film', no homosexual tension, no ego/phallic competition). It uses little dialogue, but communicates a tremendous amount. It is a simple story, yet full of complex details which are easily understood by any human being and universal in their relevance. I did not find the film dark or depressing (everything would seem this way if you watch Hollywood happy ending films all the time), but rather a true reflection of human emotions. For instance, in the scene where Mahmut realizes his cousin is gone is you see both his feeling of relief, that the cousin is gone and yet regret, that he pushed him away. Who has not felt such ambivalence - when losing a friend or lover, or in some other situation? It's rare to get these kinds of real human emotions displayed on film in a non-cliché way. As far as culture is concerned, or this being a Turkish film, i feel it strikes the very difficult balance between being a 'Turkish' film - about realities which more apply to that place (the greater struggle to make it in a Turkish city versus a European one; the greater contrast between country and city), and a universal, human story which didn't necessarily have to be set in Turkey. In this day and age where people around the world are consuming culture and fetishizing it, this film does not try to entice us as 'Turkish', nor does it try to communicate it as a 'harsh reality', or 'that's how Turkey/Istanbul IS'. And yet the cultural elements are there. I think the comparison to 'lost in translation' that somebody made is quite good. Everyone, at least in the US, was raving about that film. I personally thought it was mediocre at best. It was well put by someone as a vague story which supposedly was supposed to deal with 'disorientation' that happens to people living or traveling overseas. Even if the film was supposed to be humorous, the characters and their motivations or crises were never clear (even for a 'lighter' film or comedy, this is necessary). And i found myself being treated to a typically 'orientalist' story of the alienated Amerian overseas. Going back to 'Distant', as for the idea that this is bad acting, or too slow, or has no plot, I'm sorry but people who say this know nothing about film making and maybe nothing about being human, no offense. You do not have to be a film aficionado or cultural connoisseur to appreciate this film. This film will be two hours of your time well spent!

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."