Yumurta
Directed by:
Semih KaplanoğluScreenplay:
Orçun KöksalCinematography:
Özgür EkenCast:
Nejat Isler, Saadet Aksoy, Ufuk Bayraktar, Gülçin Santırcıoğlu, Emine Sarıkaya, Esra Turan, Erdal Yıldırım, Kadir KaçanPlots(1)
The poet Yusuf returns to his hometown for the first time in many years to attend his mother's funeral. He is expected in the dilapidated house by the winsome Ayla, whom he did not even know existed. The girl, who has been taking care of his mother for the last five years, asks Yusuf to fulfil her dying wishes and have a holy animal sacrificed in her honour after her death. Hating the passive rhythm of life in the countryside, the man stumbles upon long-lost memories, old friends with whom he has nothing in common, and love that died long ago. He feels guilt, and would rather leave immediately, but he is bound to carry out his mother's last wishes. And it is only on the journey to the place where the sacrifice is to be made that he begins to understand that his roots mean more than he was willing to admit, and that there is even a certain good sense in returning home, where his mother's love still watches over him. (Karlovy Vary International Film Festival)
(more)Reviews (1)
Honey is about childhood and fatherly love, Milk about turning a boy into a man and motherly love, and Egg is about maturing, losing a mother and finding another woman. Nothing changes in terms of Kaplanoğlu's poetic style, as well as the acting of one of the poet Yusuf's forms, who speaks minimally, minimally gesticulates and, most of all, forms one of the elements in the strongly dominant frame of Eken's static camera. Egg is similar to Honey given the strong feeling, which is described only indirectly, and to Milk in turn by its backdrop of Yusuf's native Tire. Long, unmistakable poetry that goes to the essence of emotions and depicts them in such subtle nuances that the average viewer will undoubtedly fall away. The whole trilogy brings intoxication with an image poem that cannot be read other than as lyrical poetry. These films can be perceived discontinuously, but their charm lies precisely in the connections - when the aging Yusuf holds in his hand his book of poetry called Bal (Honey), knowing all three films, one can embark on a special vertical pilgrimage through the fascinating world of Semih Kaplanoglu.
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