The Wild Pear Tree (Ahlat Agaci), Turkey-Republic of Macedonia-France-Germany-Bosnia and Herzegovina-Bulgaria-Sweden, 2018)

Wrapped up in yourself

I’m totally out of step with the critical consensus on this one, although I don’t resent the 188 minutes I spent watching it, the overall affect upon me was one of torpor. That wasn’t a result of the film’s slow pace but by the long conversations that pepper the film and the suspicion that Nuri Blige Ceylan thinks the positive outweighs the negative in the self-serving male characters.

There are three ‘set piece’ long conversations that the protagonist, Sinan, has when he returns to a rural backwater after graduation. They are with: a female friend from school; a successful writer who Sinan apparently hopes to emulate; two imams. It’s difficult to make long conversations visually interesting and for the religious discussion (apparently this lasts 20 minutes) Ceylan resorts to a walk down a hill with numerous long shots and I often didn’t know which of the three was speaking. In addition, subtitles are a huge disadvantage in a wordy film as too long is spent looking at the bottom of the screen. The discussions were interesting but maybe they better belong in a novel.

Thematically the film’s similar to, Geoff Andrew tells us in Sight & Sound, Ceylan’s early films; I certainly recognised the protagonist’s alienation from Uzak (Turkey, 2002). Initially I was sympathetic to the student returning home to Çan, a place that has little for him, from Çanakkale, where he studied. It’s clear he hadn’t been home for some time which was somewhat puzzling as the journey time was only 90 minutes; presumably this emphasised how much he hated Çan (I don’t know how long it takes to graduate in Turkey). Solipsism in youth is to be forgiven but not in Sinan’s dad who spends his family’s money gambling. He’s meant to be a ‘loveable rogue’ though he’s merely contemptible. Ceylan states he likes complex characters, who have good and bad points; I could only see the negative in the dad.

Some of the cinematography is beautiful, however the director stated he was less interested in beauty and often used a small Osmo camera for portability, sacrificing image quality. There are a fair number of shots were we plod behind the protagonist; this seems to me to be lazy filmmaking. The Dardennes brothers used it throughout (as I remember) Rosetta (France-Belguim, 1999) where it had cumulative power. Presumably the device is intended to aid identification with the protagonist but looking at his back and glimpsing surroundings is not particularly cinematic.

I loved Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, and have yet to see Winter Sleep (Turkey-France-Germany, 2014), so The Wild Pear Tree seems to me to be a step back rather than a development in Ceylan’s filmmaking. It must be hard continuing to make ‘deeply personal’ filmmaking which focuses on the merely autobiographical (the character of the dad is based on co-scriptwriter’s Akin Aksu’s). Occasionally the political inserts its head into the film, a local major’s paean to democracy is clearly a dig at Erdoğan and Sinan chats to a friend who is a riot cop; they are the most interesting scenes.

A plea to cinemas screening extremely long films: reduce the puffs, trailers and adverts. The extra 25 minutes added greatly to the pain in my arse.

The Final Hour (La Hora Final, Peru, 2017)

Political-personal civil war

Spain has numerous films that deal with the psychological aftermath of Franco’s fascist state (such as the recently blogged Marshland) and Peru, too, is trying to come to terms with what was effectively a civil war between authoritarian government and Maoist guerillas. The Final Hour refers to the endgame when the terrorists’ (the ‘Shining Path’) leader, Abimael Guzmán, was captured. Afterwards, the revolutionary movement started to splinter and fade.

Writer-director Eduardo Mendoza de Echave has used the tropes of the detective genre to investigate both the political machinations of the time, and the impact the war had on individuals. Generically it’s conventional (the maverick detective, an under-resourced unit, office politics getting in the way, dysfunctional families etc.), however by placing it in the context of Peru in 1992, we get a fascinating insight into the reality of that time and place.

I was particularly taken by the performance of Nidia Bermejo (above right) as a nurse-turned-cop; the career switch was in response to the indiscriminate bombings of the terrorists. She’s indigenous and her brother is involved with the ‘Shining Path’ and so her loyalties are severely torn. Although the film is clear about who the good guys are (the detectives), the state is shown to be as bad as the rebels.

The film’s based on fact and it is interesting to see how Guzmán was finally captured but it is the personal costs involved in living in a state of civil war that are the most important aspect of the film. Apparently it was a hit in Peru, suggesting a hunger to deal with the past. Imdb lists its budget as a barely credible $30,000; for that it is an astounding achievement. (Netflix)

The Reckoning (UK, 1969)

No place like home

With John McGrath writing the script you can be pretty confident there will be a sensible political message and this thriller (well, generically it’s not quite clear, but thriller might be the best category) is both of its time and about a system that is still with us.

At the start, where Nicol Williamson’s protagonist (Marler) is having ‘rough sex’ with his wife to be followed by aggressive driving of his jaguar, I thought we were in a gangster film. It has a similar look to the concurrent Performance (UK) and shares the time’s love of exaggerated zoom shots; both had major studio backing: Columbia and Warner Bros. respectively. However, it soon becomes clear he’s a go-getting executive (not so different from a gangster really). However, he has to return to his roots, a Liverpool that still has pre-war housing and bomb sites, as his father’s ill.

Unsurprisingly, for he’s been living in Virginia Waters in a massive detached house, he finds Liverpool’s anti-establishment ethos gives him perspective. On his return south he gatecrashes his wife’s dinner party (it is in his own house), drunk, and tells the pinstriped tossers what he thinks of them. The class tensions remind us that although the 1960s were more egalitarian than the decades before, however McGrath makes it clear that the ‘old order’ is still in charge.

Apart from the distracting zooms, Gold’s direction is confident. He shoots crowd scenes well and there’s a great moment at a wrestling match where the contestants suddenly realise that the audience has erupted into a riot. They stand together bemused, watching the mayhem. McGrath was born in Birkenhead which vouches for the authenticity of this portrayal Liverpool.

Williamson’s career was ended by drink but he’s a formidable presence in the film, even if it is difficult to understand why he has such a ‘way with women’ (the misogynistic tones are of its time). Rachel Roberts is great as a ‘good time’ mother who clearheadedly knows what she wants and what she can get.

Apparently McGrath suggested that his script prefigured Thatcherism and it’s true that the ruthless corporate culture is still with us, evidenced by the CEO of Bet365 paying herself £217m in 2017.