Three Monkeys

If Turkish cinema is the new black then Nuri Bilge Ceylan is the cover of Smell The Glove. His most recent films, Distant and Climates, were not only prize winners at Cannes and global sensations, but instant classics. It is, therefore, quite astonishing to discover that Three Monkeys appears to mark another Great Leap Forward for the former photographer. More meticulously plotted than his previous work, the film works the old Confucian proverb into a simmering domestic melodrama.
Like the three metaphorical monkeys, the family unit at the centre of this storm consistently turn away from evil, an avoidance that only allows wrongdoing to flourish. The villain of the piece, Servet, is a creepy politician with a copy of Mein Kampf on his bookshelf, who, in the opening frames, asks his driver to take the fall for a hit-and-run incident lest it impact unfavourably on his chances in an upcoming election. Eyrup, the driver, dutifully goes to jail on the promise of financial reward. In his absence, Hacer, his wife and Ismail, his son, become anxious to secure the compensation. They seek out Servet who soon seduces his driver’s wife then unceremoniously dumps her as Eyrup returns from prison.
Although shot on HD, primarily in a small apartment, Three Monkeys never looks or feels any less cinematic than say, Lawrence of Arabia. The narrative is gripping, the performances are poignant and Bilge’s stylistic repertoire is flawless. His claustrophobic use of tight framing, glowering silences and killer post-Tarkovsky takes dovetails perfectly with the quietly charged material. Indeed, this is such a gripping, total universe that the appearance of the driver’s dead son doesn’t raise even a modicum of doubt.
Our one caveat? The final two minutes make for a denouement that screams Movie Ending. It’s neat, but a little too neat for such a finely honed piece.