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Times and Winds
(Bes Vakit)
Dir/scr: Reha Erdem. Turk. 2006. 110mins. Looking every inch the festival warhorse, Times And Winds , Reha Erdem's contemplative observation on life in a remote Anatolian village, is the kind of picture critics will adore and film events queue for. Subdued, low key and practically plotless – it is reminiscent of both Ki-duk's Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… And Spring , if without the metaphysical pretensions and Gyorgy Palfi's Hukkle - Erdem's fourth feature proceeds at an unhurried, reflective pace. Creating a mood of perfect harmony between villagers and the nature surrounding them, it may not be multiplex fare but will deservedly draw attention from arthouse patrons. At Istanbul, where it premiered, it won both the best Turkish film and FIPRESCI prizes. The film's original title, Five Times , (by which it is still known at home) refers to the daily calls to prayer through which time is marked in the Turkish countryside. Although the action is set in the present, the picture has a timeless feel, located as it is in a village seemingly unaffected by the modern world. The inhabitants, who endure a tough existence, follow a strict patriarchal lifestyle in their ramshackle stone homes. The father is the master of the house, dispensing corporal punishment whenever he feels the urge. While faith is piously observed, inhabitants also respect knowledge and pool their meagre resources to help a young school teacher (Ergec) who needs a fridge. No one feels the need to express themselves in words, except when it is absolutely necessary. Near-inexistent dialogue therefore forces the audience to read everything they need to know from the eloquent images. Yet while Times And Winds sounds like a documentary, Erdem skilfully inserts myriad subplots, most of which focus on three young children. Two of the youngsters are afraid to share their feelings with anyone else. Omer (Ozen), the Imam's (Yarr) son, passionately wishes to see his father dead, while Yakup (Kayali) is desperately infatuated with his pretty young teacher (Ergec). The almost narcoleptic Yildiz (Iscan) minds the house when her mother gives birth to a much-wanted boy. Other plotlines include an old man (Turel), whose two adult sons, both married and with children of their own, still fear his beatings; a kindly grandmother who has grown tired of life; and an orphaned village shepherd who functions as a Pan-like presence Erdem borrows from neighbouring Greek mythology. Through these Erdem raises such issues as early sexual awakening, rebellion against parents and communion with nature without forcing them on to the audience. At first glance such stories may resemble a poetically pastoral portrait of life eternal in the country. But beneath the surface lurk some powerful and emotional dramas, which Erdem makes his audience unravel, fed by a steady flow of small but telling events. Performances by the non-professional cast are unaffected and the best complement to the material. Exemplary widescreen photography proves arresting while possessing a rough edge that guards against the kind of fake postcard glamour often encountered in this kind of picture. The music of Estonian composer Arvo Part underlines, if at times too pointedly, proceedings but is nevertheless a natural fit with the leisurely, magisterial pace imposed by Mother Nature. Production company/international sales Producer Cinematography Editor Music Main cast
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