Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s “Three Monkeys,” was a foreign film we greatly anticipated this year because of the buzz it generated at Cannes and Oscars, but like many things the review got away from us (it came out last week in limited release). But our old contributor pal saw it and we basically agree with everything said in his well-written review which we’ve been sanctioned to borrow.
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Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s “Three Monkeys,” Turkey’s measured and quietly devastating 2009 Oscar entry for the Best Foreign Language category, is a film in which every moody, darkly-lit frame offers a moment worth savoring. The same can be said of the director’s impressionistic “Distant” and “Climates”: his particular form of intellectually stimulating artistic expression can only be appreciated when savored.
In contrast to prior works, which focused on the plight of one or two individuals, here the filmmaker chooses to analyze an entire deteriorating family, but retains his ability to visually articulate the depths of the human psyche in a way that few modern directors can. This is a pensive piece of art, one that blends noir sensibilities with melodrama and is, regardless of his deviations from a perfected formula, quintessentially Ceylan. The filmmaker spins a complex yarn, wherein wrongdoings impact each other until the deafening sound of thunderclaps drown out silent screams of guilt in the final scene. And even when “Three Monkeys” becomes a little too meditative and leisurely, it’s damn near impossible not to become entangled in this intricately woven plot right along with the director’s meticulously crafted characters.
The title of the film alludes to the three proverbial wise monkeys: see, hear, and speak no evil, casually sidestepping the fourth monkey oft depicted, which conveys the notion of “doing no evil,” not covering its eyes, ears or mouth – but its crotch or abdomen instead. Guilt, the theme of this elliptical thriller, becomes a moral undercurrent – if not always noticeable. A guilt that isolates and suffocates Ceylan’s characters the more they try to defend or flat-out ignore it. Does ignorance render truth non-existent, or merely accelerate the process of self-destruction? Ceylan offers no easy answers to these existential questions.
Things are set in motion when Servet (Ercan Kesal), a Turkish politician responsible for a hit-and-run accident, appeals to his driver, Eyüp (Yavuz Bingöl), to take the rap for him. But with this pact comes the burden to Eyüp’s wife, Hacer (Hatice Aslan, who gives a moving, powerful performance), and their only son, Ismail (Ahmet Rıfat Şungar, a brooding, intense talent worth paying attention to), of living with this festering lie.
The director shifts from character to character, rarely showing the family as a cohesive unit; Ceylan emphasizes fragmentation, familial and societal– even political. As with many art films, one could be forgiven for assuming that little of consequence takes place in “Three Monkeys.” Ceylan plants clues and hints that build to a succession of emotionally-charged moments of reckoning. Most of the motivations and actions that drive the film are mere elisions – unseen in happening, but displayed in consequence.
However, “Three Monkeys” is a dour film, with flashes of pitch-black humor and irony that evolve into a medium of tragic expression. Ceylan uses cramped, dark and cluttered rooms to express excruciating claustrophobia, and his shots of Istanbul’s overcast, ominous and thundering skies, illustrate the character’s despair; for him, landscapes speak louder then words. Ceylan’s subdued tone, his technical and expressionistic flair, and narrative complexity, animate “Three Monkeys” with a muted ferocity and daring execution that renders it a tragedy of near-classic measurement. It’s also a film that approaches the higher echelons of noir/domestic drama hybrids. [B]
Last Word: “Three Monkeys” is a film for those interested in process, those willing to play along with Ceylan’s intricate and sombre game, immersing themselves in its mesmerizing stylistics and claustrophobic mannerisms until the intensity of its focus is almost too excruciating to bear. And if you display such patience, you will be rewarded it, but if not… – Nick Plowman courtesy of our friends at InReviewOnline.