A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Saturday, October 31, 2020

10 to 11 (Pelin Esmer, 2009)

Mithat Esmer in 10 to 11
Cast: Nejat Isler, Mithat Esmer, Laçin Ceylan, Tayanç Ayaydin, Savas Akova. Screenplay: Pelin Esmer. Cinematography: Özgür Eken. Art direction: Naz Erayda. Film editing: Ayhan Ergürsel, Pelin Esmer, Cem Yildirim. 

Pelin Esmer's 10 to 11 gets its title from one of the items in Mithat's collection: a clock that he has carefully watched to determine precisely how much behind the time it runs. When he calculates that figure, he writes it on a label and attaches it to the clock, which is only one of the numerous clocks he has collected. We would call Mithat a hoarder: He lives in an Istanbul apartment with stacks and stacks of newspapers, which are only part of the various things he collects. Unfortunately, the building in which he lives is in the process of being condemned, and the elderly Mithat is the only holdout among the tenants willing to sign the building over to the authorities and relocate to a new building. He stubbornly resists the pleas of the head of the tenants association to do so, and finally is the only remaining resident, along with the caretaker, Ali. As the film ends even Ali has forsaken him, though he leaves behind an item that Mithat has long sought for his collection. Mithat's story is more droll and exasperating than melancholy, partly because Mithat is played by writer-director Esmer's uncle, Mithat Esmer, himself a real-life collector. The interplay between Mithat and Ali (Nejat Isler) becomes a delicately handled character study, with the naïve, provincial Ali gradually being educated in the ways of the big city by Mithat's cranky, precise demands. At one point, Mithat is visited by a nephew who, seeing a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka on a shelf, opens it to pour a drink, only to be scolded by Mithat because the unopened bottle was part of his collection. Even recapping the bottle isn't sufficient to restore it to the pristine state Mithat demands for that part of his collection. The story becomes a resonant commentary on the nature of time and memory, with Mithat determinedly attempting to hold onto the past in tangible form, as the changing city tries to sweep the past away.