Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan is probably the most confrontationally ambitious filmmaker working today. This doesn't necessarily make him the best. Indeed, there are times when you can feel him reaching for a greatness that the likes of Arichitapong Weerasthakul or Bela Tarr make seem easy. Nonetheless, Ceylan takes on the "Big Themes" with a Herculean boldness. He's the "old school great film artist" of today. His work sometimes feels like it belongs more in the era of Bergman or Bresson than today, but that doesn't make it any less impressive.
Ceylan's new film, "About Dry Grasses", is one of his best. The main character, Samet (played by Deniz Celiloglu in an at times overly intense performance), incarnates many of Ceylan's consistent concerns. Like many of the director's characters he is a secular intellectual, or at least he is striving to be one, to throw off the non-secular culture around him. In this, these characters reflect Turkey itself, a predominantly geographically and culturally Asian, Muslim nation that, since the inception of its modern state, has openly striven to become a secular, European one. He thinks too much, which is not to say too well, but this thoughtfulness is often a disguise or an excuse for a resentful selfishness.
Indeed, Samet is one of Ceylan's least likable main characters. At times, his actions disgust us. But the wisdom of the film comes with the acknowledgement that the decisions made by this quasi-anti-villain do not, in fact, amount to actual villainy. Samet is not who he, or we, wish him to be. But neither is humanity, or the world it inhabits. Time, the fact that life literally goes on despite our intentions, bestows on the living the transformative ability to apologize and forgive. (Hannah Arendt would, I think, have liked this movie.)
Ceylan is one of cinema's greatest landscape artists. Although "About Dry Grasses" consists mostly of interiors, the exterior scenes are breath taking. The small village Samet teaches in is supposed to be bleak and ugly and in some sense it is. But there is a sublimity to the revelation of these monotonous snow-scapes. Ceylan's landscapes give his films a singularly sensual quality. A viewer feels the chill of the town and the relief of a building with central heating or, to a less relieving degree, a fire, stove, or cup of hot tea. When winter finally breaks it seems a kind of existential reprieve.
One last note, while this is very much Samet's story, Celiloglu's is not the film's best performance. That goes to the Cannes-award-winning Merve Dizdar, whose performance is as smoldering as that of Celiloglu's, but also decidedly more restrained. The supporting cast, including young Ece Bagci, are generally excellent.
Ceylan's new film, "About Dry Grasses", is one of his best. The main character, Samet (played by Deniz Celiloglu in an at times overly intense performance), incarnates many of Ceylan's consistent concerns. Like many of the director's characters he is a secular intellectual, or at least he is striving to be one, to throw off the non-secular culture around him. In this, these characters reflect Turkey itself, a predominantly geographically and culturally Asian, Muslim nation that, since the inception of its modern state, has openly striven to become a secular, European one. He thinks too much, which is not to say too well, but this thoughtfulness is often a disguise or an excuse for a resentful selfishness.
Indeed, Samet is one of Ceylan's least likable main characters. At times, his actions disgust us. But the wisdom of the film comes with the acknowledgement that the decisions made by this quasi-anti-villain do not, in fact, amount to actual villainy. Samet is not who he, or we, wish him to be. But neither is humanity, or the world it inhabits. Time, the fact that life literally goes on despite our intentions, bestows on the living the transformative ability to apologize and forgive. (Hannah Arendt would, I think, have liked this movie.)
Ceylan is one of cinema's greatest landscape artists. Although "About Dry Grasses" consists mostly of interiors, the exterior scenes are breath taking. The small village Samet teaches in is supposed to be bleak and ugly and in some sense it is. But there is a sublimity to the revelation of these monotonous snow-scapes. Ceylan's landscapes give his films a singularly sensual quality. A viewer feels the chill of the town and the relief of a building with central heating or, to a less relieving degree, a fire, stove, or cup of hot tea. When winter finally breaks it seems a kind of existential reprieve.
One last note, while this is very much Samet's story, Celiloglu's is not the film's best performance. That goes to the Cannes-award-winning Merve Dizdar, whose performance is as smoldering as that of Celiloglu's, but also decidedly more restrained. The supporting cast, including young Ece Bagci, are generally excellent.