None but the lonely heart

Cappadocia, an uneven terrain occupying five provinces in central Turkey, is one of the top tourist destinations in Turkey, if not its main attraction. The hoodoos, thin spires of sedimentary and volcanic rocks, were described as fairy chimneys. It turned out that there would be an impressive structure beneath it, where a community once flourished there. They could be older than the ancient Egyptians, even the Babylonians. They practiced an older form of feudalism, where the less fortunate citizens have to live in cramped conditions. The ruling class must have all the space and comfort.

Nuri Bilge Ceylan would use this interesting piece of historical information in "Winter Sleep", which was his modern update of a few Anton Chekhov short stories. The 21st-century Turkey wouldn't be so different from the cluster of kingdoms that once ruled this part of Anatolia. It might have surprised the perceptive viewers, but not what the director and screenwriter wanted to convey in his deliberately-paced movie. No one would want a proud, superficial, sentimental man.

If these rocks could talk

Aydin might be the most distinguished citizen in central Anatolia. The former actor owned a hotel in the touristy spot in Cappadocia. He was also a columnist for a local newspaper, hoping to publish a book about the history of Turkish theater. And many men would envy his much-younger wife. In other words, the world wouldn't turn back on the likes of Aydin. But the people surrounding him have nothing but contempt for him. Lots of contempt.

Chekhov was renowned for his perceptive descriptions of human virtues and follies. He wouldn't judge his characters, but Ceylan didn't follow it in his script of "Winter Sleep". If his point of view was short of condemning Aydin, then he had a good reason to do it. The native of Istanbul was making a statement about the state of the rich and poor in Turkey, and the great divide between the two classes.

One scene showed Aydin's wife learning about the plight of one of her husband's tenants. She felt sorry for them, such that she gave them Aydin's money from a fundraiser in which she was the organizer. She was horrified when the head of that family burned it in the fireplace. It was a good intention on her part, but they saw it as her feeble attempt to buy off her conscience. It would reveal a poor man's mentality, a great hindrance to a person's potential. Then again, the bitter cold might have prompted him to do it.

Ceylan also illustrated another contradicting aspect of human nature. Many older people would be impatient at times, a result of their frustration and disappointment on certain aspects of their lives. And they couldn't help but lash it out at unsuspecting people. It may be due to jealousy, if not an unacknowledged fact that they couldn't do something about it. This was illustrated in a later scene where Aydin's neighbor criticized the hotel owner/artist for not helping the victims of the series of earthquakes on 2010-2011. Aydin couldn't help but be defensive about his action, even citing out their shortcomings as well.

Life at the top would be a lonely existence, and Aydin doesn't like the idea of a lonely, old man. Alas, his wife doesn't love him anymore. They were about to live separate lives. There would be too much space in Cappadocia, which drew tourists from all over the world. It could be a slow, painful death during the biting winter months. This drama won the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival three years ago, and it was a deserving pick.