Glenn has been attending the 25th Stockholm Film Festival as a member of the FIPRESCI jury. Here he is to discuss Turkey’s 2014 Oscar submission, Winter Sleep.
There’s a moment over an hour into Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Winter Sleep where two of the main characters finally strip away the societal niceties that their relatively comfortable existences requires of them and they reveal their true feelings about one another. Some might suggest that the scene, fraught with simmering tension and explosive drama, comes too late in the picture – it effectively kicks off the second act – and that Ceylan’s film could have easily had 20 or 30 minutes shaved from its runtime. I wouldn’t argue that these people are wrong; at 196 minutes, Winter Sleep is the one percent of film lengths of 2014 (only Lav Diaz’s Norte is a longer new release if I am remembering correctly). Still, I found the majority of Ceylan’s Palme d’Or winner to be thoroughly engaging and surprisingly scintillating given its subject matter.
The plot of Winter Sleep sounds like a parody. Perhaps a sketch from Saturday Night Light making fun of Upper West Side noddies who’ll go and watch three hours of subtitles. Or maybe it’s a Woody Allen gag. Either way, there’s no getting around the fact that Winter Sleep is about a man, a former actor and now the writer of a rather pompous newspaper column and owner of a sleepy hotel in the Anatolian hills, and several of his acquaintances discussing ethics and morals. There is his younger wife who has grown increasingly attached to a local group raising funds for the community, his sister with an alcoholic ex, a best friend, a tenant who’s late on his rent check, and various constituents that he has decided he lords over due to his wealth and status. ...more after the jump
Unlike, say, Listen Up Philip, in which the terrible character at the centre knows he’s making everybody’s life hell, the main character of Aydin in Winter Sleep, played by Haluk Bilginer, doesn’t seem able to recognize the signs that everybody appears to loathe him. One of the great things about Ceylan’s film is the delicate way with which these relationships reveal themselves. First in slightly offhand comments and then ultimately through long conversations and monologues that unfold in real time and reveal the truth depths of Aydin’s selfishness, arrogance and often outright cruel attitudes to the people he perceives to be above.
Like Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, this film is full of beautiful wide shots of the Turkish countryside. However, in this case the cinematography of Gökhan Tiryaki isn’t being quite as grandiose about it, preferring orange-hued fireplaces and mountainside terrains of white and grey to the honey-golden vistas of Anatolia. This shift perhaps allows for more attention to be paid to the sublime work of the actors – especially Demet Akbag and Melisa Sözen as Aydin’s sister and wife respectively. Each give the film’s extensive runtime the dramatic heft that it needs in order to sustain the viewer’s interest. Sözen is particularly impressive, her face a compelling tableau for the concerns of a woman with her lot in life in two significant scenes where she confronts her husband and later one of his belittled subjects.
Winter Sleep’s rumination on ethics and human behavior are a hard ask to expect viewers to wade through. I, however, found it compelling and its themes important. My knowledge of Turkish cinema – and Turkey in general, I suppose – is hardly extensive, but I was thrilled by the chance to experience this beautiful composition of words amongst a slice of life that endeavors to pose questions that, even with 196 minutes up its sleeve, it doesn’t necessarily feel the need to answer.
Grade: B+ (although certain passages are A-worthy)
Oscar Chances: It's length will be an obvious hindrance with voters whose job it is to watch each of the 80+ entries, although it's win from Jane Campion's Cannes jury should certainly pique interests. The executive committee may have to be the ones to save it. It would certainly be nice for Ceylan to finally have a film recognized by the Academy, however, even if they have to feel shamed into it.