Third Cinema revisited

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Umut / Hope, Turkey 1970

Posted by keith1942 on September 11, 2018

This was one of the films screened at Il Cinema Ritrovato in the programme ‘Yilmaz Güney Despair of Hope’. The film combines the two key words in the programme title and suggest the critical and sometimes pessimistic stance in the works of this director. This is certainly a downbeat story with a finale that might be termed ‘dead end river’.

Due to the growing popularity of taxi cabs, the horse-drawn carriage [phaeton0 driver Cabbar is finding it difficult to support his large family of five children, wife and elderly mother.”  (Notes in Festival Catalogue).

The film opens as morning comes and the city starts to awaken: the cleaning lorry waters the streets. Outside the railway station Cabbar is already positioned in his carriage with two horses, black and white. His situation is briefly sketched as he first checks the lottery tickets to no avail and then waits as the majority of passengers take the taxi cabs We follow him through a long day as his earnings are a meagre 81 lira. [The exchange rate in the late 1960s was nine Turkish lira to one US dollar].

Cabbar’ situation as the film progresses is downhill. He is in debt to the shops where they buy the family food. He is in debt to the merchant who provides feed for his horses. And he is in debt for repairs to his carriage. The family suffer with him; his wife is supportive and grapples with household and children. His eldest child Hatice is studying for an English examination; with difficulty. And in one high angle shot we watch the younger children as they watch other children renting and playing on pedal bikes.

One of Cabbar’s horses is killed by a passing motorist but the driver disowns any responsibility. When Cabbar tries to protest the police first shout at him and later throw him out of the station. Later Cabbar follows a cart carrying the horse into a desert space where its carcass is dumped,: presumably cheaper than paying for its incineration. He starts to sell family possessions and manages to make enough to buy a second horse. But when he returns home the other horse and his carriage has been seen by debtors.

Cabbar’s main friend is Hasan, who has no obvious work or income. Hasan first persuades Cabbar to join him in an attempted robbery, which is a fiasco. Then he persuades Cabbar to seek a solution from a local Hodja or Preacher. Both Hasan and Cabbar believe in local superstitions about buried treasure and the Hodja claims to be able to read signs which will reveal the hiding place. Cabbar sells many of his remaining possessions to find the money to pay the Hodja, [300 lira]. The one item he refuses to sell is his old gun, which figures in the abortive robbery.

The early signs have Cabbar digging up in the courtyard and shack where he lives with his family. Then he, Hasan and the Hodja set out for the banks of the Ceyhan River where, they believe, they will find a withered tree surrounded by white stones; the site of the buried treasure. This is a hopeless mission and Cabbar in particular becomes ever more desperate. I assume the audience in which I sat was sceptical of the whole adventure but I wondered how many of the audience in Turkey in 1970 would have been as sceptical. In fact, this is unknown; the film was

Banned in Turkey for propagating class differences.” (Festival Catalogue).

Right through his film career Güney faced censorship, imprisonment and finally exile.

The film has the ring of a neo-realist study. We have a palpable sense of watching the actual life of the city and of the one family, right at the bottom of the social networks. Cabbar lacks a critical sense of his position in society. Rather than try and work against the exploitative system he pins his hopes on luck or superstitious equivalents. At one point in the film we see Cabbar attending a rally and protest by the drivers of horse-drawn carriages. This is a radical affair , both in the rhetoric of the speaker and in the placards and slogans. But Cabbar is led away by Hasan who arrives with news of the Hodja and the supposed treasure.

The treasure hunt occupies a substantial part of the later film. And it offers a increasingly pointless and despairing hunt. Thus Cabbar’s final descent into madness signifies the hopelessness of such alternatives to direct opposition. In fact, Cabbar is clearly part of the lowest social class, in one sense proletarian. But his situation relies on his possession of a meagre capital which provides the commodity he attempts to sell. Thus his situation tends towards them petit-bourgeois and the resultant values. The censors ruling slightly misses the point; the film does not merely point up class difference but the interests embodied in different classes.

The film works quite slowly, gradually building up to the sad climax and unresolved ending. Güney and his cinematographer, Kaya Ererez, captures the actual urban world of Turkey, the film’s black and white cinematography relies almost completely on actual locations. There are frequent thigh-angle and low-angle shots, providing both omniscient and dramatic angles on characters. There are a number of fine silhouette shots of characters sited on skylines, including both at sunrise and at sunset. Long shots place the characters in the wider settings and long takes focus on the slow deterioration in the story. There are also a number of sequence shots and at the end of the film the camera circles Cabbar as he follows a descent that emulates Lear in an earlier period.

The cast, with Güney himself playing Cabbar, is very well done. They are as convincing as the locales and settings in the film. The soundtrack used music sparingly, though it is more noticeable as we near the final desperate situation.

The screening used a transfer to DCP with the Turkish dialogue rendered into English in sub-titles. The image quality was variable, which may have been down to the source material or the transfer process. The Catalogue’s final comment makes the neo-realist connection and adds,

Umut could easily be considered an heir to the Third cinema movement.”

I would suggest that the movement actually continues. Certainly Güney’s films, including this title, fit the requirement laid down by Solanas and Getino,

making films that the System cannot assimilate and which are foreign to its needs, or making films that directly and explicitly set out to fight the System.”

Güney, whilst using the film system in Turkey, nicely balances between these two ways of opposition.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

 
%d bloggers like this: