Directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Turkey, (2011),
150 minutes
A routine police investigation of a murder turns
into a meditation on the human experience and
the elusiveness of truth in Turkish director
Nuri Bilge Ceylan's deeply felt Once Upon a Time
in Anatolia, winner of the Cannes Jury Prize in
2011. Based on the experience of co-writer Ercan
Kesal, a doctor who took part in the
investigation of an actual murder twenty years
ago, the film follows a dozen men as they hunt
for a body during the course of one night in an
arid stretch of land in the Anatolian steppes
surrounding the town of Keskin. It is a work of
profound intelligence that illuminates the
richness and complexity of humanity.
Though Ceylan is focused on the mundane tasks of
a police inquiry, his concern is metaphysical,
underscored by the film's detached, minimalist
style. Like Tarkovsky, the plot is insignificant
except as a device to allow characters to
interact, both with each other and with the
landscapes they inhabit, gorgeously photographed
by cinematographer Gohkan Tiryaki. While the
killer supposedly committed the crime in a
drunken rage in an argument over a woman, the
film is notable for its ambiguity and very
little is spelled out. According to Ceylan who
claims allegiance to the style and substance of
Chekhov, “If the audience doesn't join in the
process, it's impossible to make it deeper, like
literature.”
Most of the film takes place in the dark,
disturbed only by the glare of headlights that
look like fireballs descending from the night
sky and a flash of lightning that reveals a
strange face carved into a rock. Three cars
contain the main protagonists: Doctor Cemal
(Muhammat Uzuner), Commissar Naci (Yilmaz
Erdogen), Prosecutor Nasret (Taner Birsel), the
driver Arab Ali (Ahmet Mumtaz Taylan), and the
murder suspects Kenan (Firat Tanis) and Ramazan
(Burhan Yildiz). The inquiry takes a long time
to get started because the accused suspects
claim they were either too drunk or asleep to
remember where the victim, Yasar (Erol
Erarslan), was buried.
The caravan wanders the countryside going from
one similar-looking water fountain to another,
trying to locate a “round tree,” where they
think the body can be found. As the night wears
on, fatigue and frustration set in. Men make
small talk about Buffalo yoghurt, prostate
problems, and a sick child for whom the father
needs to get pills. They talk about life and
death, women, the passing of time, and the
difference between the city and the country. The
prosecutor tells the doctor a strange story
about a woman who predicted her own death on a
certain day and died on the very day she
predicted. Nusret argues that no autopsy was
necessary because it was clear the woman died of
a heart attack.
The rational doctor, however, offers the theory
that her death was a suicide brought on by
taking a drug such as Digoxin that can bring on
a heart attack and reminds the prosecutor that
often suicide is a means of exacting revenge.
The two and one half-hour film takes its time
but ultimately becomes a character study of two
complex men, the prosecutor and the doctor,
revealing two fractured souls whose outward role
hides their inner regret and loneliness. The
experience becomes universal as the characters
move beyond what they do to connect with the
inner core of their being, revealing that, in
their own way each is profoundly alone,
struggling to move past painful memories to find
connection and acceptance.
When the morning finally arrives and the body is
recovered, the men return to town to confront
the sullen widow, the angry son, and the reality
of the autopsy with its need to document each
step of the drawn out procedure. Unexpectedly, a
moral dilemma arises on the part of the doctor
performing the autopsy in a scene that connects
him to his long suppressed humanity. There is
humor scattered throughout the film, but a mood
of sadness prevails. Though Ceylan claims that
his films “are trying to understand the dark
side of human nature,” Once Upon a Time in
Anatolia recognizes life's interplay of both
light and shadow.
In one of the film's most haunting scenes, the
men stop in a small village and are invited by
the mukhtar (Ercan Kesal) to have a meal as he
talks about the town's backward conditions and
the need for a new morgue. Then, surrounded by
light, a beautiful young woman appears to serve
tea to the men who are awestruck by her beauty.
In that moment, Ceylan challenges us to be open
to move beyond cynicism and be open to the
possibility of purity, innocence, and grace.
Though the film uncovers the secrets of men's
souls, the catalyst for redemption is a woman.
