UZAK (DISTANT) is set in İstanbul in the depths of winter. The snow carpets the roads and sidewalks, the Bosphorus extends into the background in a vast gray mass. Life goes on in the European side of the city, but it seems that no one really wants to spend time socializing with one another, either indoors or outdoors.
This is the context for Nuri Bilge Ceylan's third full-length feature that focuses on two protagonists. Yusuf (M. Emin Toprak) comes from the country to seek his fortune and lodges with his near- relative Mahmut (Muzaffer Özdemir). Full of optimism at the start, Yusuf discovers that finding a job is not as straightforward in İstanbul as he had anticipated, and ends up spending most of his days either trudging the streets or lolling in front of the television. Meanwhile Mahmut pursues his career as a photographer while becoming increasingly resentful of Yusuf's presence within his midst.
Around this straightforward plot director Ceylan creates a harsh, unforgiving world dominated by alienation. As Mahmut and Yusuf look out of the apartment window, they see nothing but an oppressive view of other gray-looking apartment blocks, with ships slowly traveling up and down the Bosphorus in the distance. Mahmut seldom if ever talks to Yusuf except to wish him goodnight, and treats his guest as something of a social leper. At one point Mahmut sniffs Yusuf's shoes and sprays them with air-freshener before putting them away in a cupboard. As he walks round the streets, Yusuf finds that most İstanbullus don't want to know him; they either respond to his queries in monosyllables, or simply don't talk to him at all. In one shot he is shown sitting moodily in a sailors' café drinking tea and smoking, half-listening to the other customers but also in a trance-like state.
Despite his outward success as a photographer, Mahmut is equally alienated from his surroundings. As in MAYIS SIKINTISI, where Muzaffer (once again played by Özdemir) was a movie-maker using his parents as actors, UZAK shows how the use of a camera represents something of a flight from a reality, a vicarious imitation of life rather than a practical engagement with it. Being a photographer gives Mahmut a feeling of purpose in an otherwise sterile life, as demonstrated by the sight of him sitting moodily in a bar drinking beer and smoking, not talking to anyone. Ceylan introduces a sub- plot showing Mahmut's relationship with ex-wife Nazan (Zuhal Gencer Erkaya), that further alerts us to the sterility of his life.
Ceylan reinforces the theme of distance with a cinematic style guaranteed to place a gap between ourselves and the characters. There are several shot-sequences repeated throughout the narrative (Mahmut in a bar, Yusuf in the sailor's café, both men looking out moodily at the Bosphorus); while the characters are shown sitting down in Mahmut's apartment with the television on, but making no attempt to look at it. It is just an item of visual wallpaper, the enemy in the corner.
As in his other movies, Ceylan's narrative unfolds at a leisurely pace, with lengthy shots containing little or no dialogue. It is the atmosphere that matters; the sight of the characters standing wistfully by the Bosphorus reminds us of the power of the elements and the inability of the protagonists to understand this power. They are doomed to live unfulfilled lives in semi-perpetual isolation.
UZAK continues the themes of Ceylan's earlier work, while introducing further levels of meaning, centering especially on the parallels and differences between rural and city life in contemporary Turkey. It is, quite simply, a modern classic.
This is the context for Nuri Bilge Ceylan's third full-length feature that focuses on two protagonists. Yusuf (M. Emin Toprak) comes from the country to seek his fortune and lodges with his near- relative Mahmut (Muzaffer Özdemir). Full of optimism at the start, Yusuf discovers that finding a job is not as straightforward in İstanbul as he had anticipated, and ends up spending most of his days either trudging the streets or lolling in front of the television. Meanwhile Mahmut pursues his career as a photographer while becoming increasingly resentful of Yusuf's presence within his midst.
Around this straightforward plot director Ceylan creates a harsh, unforgiving world dominated by alienation. As Mahmut and Yusuf look out of the apartment window, they see nothing but an oppressive view of other gray-looking apartment blocks, with ships slowly traveling up and down the Bosphorus in the distance. Mahmut seldom if ever talks to Yusuf except to wish him goodnight, and treats his guest as something of a social leper. At one point Mahmut sniffs Yusuf's shoes and sprays them with air-freshener before putting them away in a cupboard. As he walks round the streets, Yusuf finds that most İstanbullus don't want to know him; they either respond to his queries in monosyllables, or simply don't talk to him at all. In one shot he is shown sitting moodily in a sailors' café drinking tea and smoking, half-listening to the other customers but also in a trance-like state.
Despite his outward success as a photographer, Mahmut is equally alienated from his surroundings. As in MAYIS SIKINTISI, where Muzaffer (once again played by Özdemir) was a movie-maker using his parents as actors, UZAK shows how the use of a camera represents something of a flight from a reality, a vicarious imitation of life rather than a practical engagement with it. Being a photographer gives Mahmut a feeling of purpose in an otherwise sterile life, as demonstrated by the sight of him sitting moodily in a bar drinking beer and smoking, not talking to anyone. Ceylan introduces a sub- plot showing Mahmut's relationship with ex-wife Nazan (Zuhal Gencer Erkaya), that further alerts us to the sterility of his life.
Ceylan reinforces the theme of distance with a cinematic style guaranteed to place a gap between ourselves and the characters. There are several shot-sequences repeated throughout the narrative (Mahmut in a bar, Yusuf in the sailor's café, both men looking out moodily at the Bosphorus); while the characters are shown sitting down in Mahmut's apartment with the television on, but making no attempt to look at it. It is just an item of visual wallpaper, the enemy in the corner.
As in his other movies, Ceylan's narrative unfolds at a leisurely pace, with lengthy shots containing little or no dialogue. It is the atmosphere that matters; the sight of the characters standing wistfully by the Bosphorus reminds us of the power of the elements and the inability of the protagonists to understand this power. They are doomed to live unfulfilled lives in semi-perpetual isolation.
UZAK continues the themes of Ceylan's earlier work, while introducing further levels of meaning, centering especially on the parallels and differences between rural and city life in contemporary Turkey. It is, quite simply, a modern classic.