Film: Honey (Bal)
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 15th July 2011
Distributor: Verve
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 87 mins
Director: Semih Kaplanoglu
Starring: Bora Altas, Erdal Besikçioglu, Tülin Özen, Ayse Altay, Alev Uçarer
Genre: Drama
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Turkey/Germany
Language: Turkish
Review by: Mark Player
Following on from his previous features Egg (Yumurta) in 2007 and Milk (Süt) in 2008, Turkish writer/director Semih Kaplanoglu completes his food themed trilogy with Honey (Bal) and thus, completing his exploration of these films' recurring protagonist; a man by the name of Yusuf.
In Egg, the thirty-something Yusuf (Nejat Isler) returns to his childhood hometown after hearing about his mother's death. In Milk, Yusuf (Melih Selcuk) is a high school graduate – with ambitious of becoming a poet – who must come to terms with his seemingly uncertain future. In Honey, Yusuf (Bora Atlas) is a small boy living with his mother and father in a small subsistent community out in the Turkish countryside.
Yusuf shares a very deep bond with his father, Yakup (Erdal Besikçioglu), and loves to be involved with his work; going out into the forest to collect honey from bee hives placed high up in the trees. However, the honey crop is dwindling, forcing Yakup to work in valleys that are further afield, and meaning that he must leave home for a few days. A distraught Yusuf is made to stay with his mother (Tülin Özen), who is worried about her son's future prospects. Yusuf also seems to be struggling at school, unable to read aloud from his study book to the class, but this concern is eclipsed by the world-shattering idea that Yakup might not return from his trip...
Honey is a very tonal, quiet and delicate film that will likely frustrate those who are accustomed to media that's more instantly accessible. The film offers a viewing experience akin to watching a slowly opening flower and, as a result, some will have the patience for it and others won't.
The first scene sets the film's ponderous pacing immediately; the opening shot being a wide locked off angle of Yakup trekking through the woods and selecting a tree to climb. This goes on for about five minutes, cutting to another angle only when Yakup starts to haul himself up the rope. However, when the branch supporting his rope starts to give, Yukup is left hanging with little keeping him in the air. But before we're given the satisfaction of knowing the outcome of this perilous situation (does he fall to his death or find a way of re-supporting himself?), Kaplanoglu cuts to the opening credits to prolong this unexpected moment of tension before introducing Atlas' lead, learning to read from a letter pinned to the wall of his house. It soon becomes apparent that the young Atlas' portrayal of Yusuf is one of the film's biggest assets.
Incredibly, not only does Atlas carry the entire film on his undeveloped shoulders, successfully masking the somewhat meagre narrative, but takes to the craft with such apparent ease that you forget that you're watching a fictional character; a tall order and a massive achievement for a 7-year-old. Bal would not be anywhere near as engrossing if left in the hands of a different, more self-conscious child-actor.
The chemistry between Atlas and his on-screen father is highly impressive and makes for the best and most endearing moments of the film; personified through their ongoing conversations in hushed tones. Likewise, then, Besikçioglu is also well cast as the humble patriarch and his scenes with Atlas form the film's heart – semi-autobiographical ruminations between Kaplanoglu and the relationship with his own father no doubt. One charming moment sees the mother give Yusuf a glass of milk to drink after dinner. Knowing that Yusuf does not like milk, Yakup obliges and quickly downs it without his wife noticing. But when Yakup is feared missing later on, there is no-one to drink Yusaf's milk for him, prompting him to consume it himself; a simple and effective metaphor for becoming self-reliant and taking on new responsibility in the wake of another's absence.
Baris Ozbicer's cinematography is thoughtful and well framed, beautifully capturing the northern forest regions of Turkey. Naturally, there is a strong emphasis on landscape here, both in terms of what's physically there in the shot and thematically. Yusuf seems most at ease in the forest with his father, learning the day-to-day of the honey collecting trade, as well as types of flowers and what kind of honey their pollen will produce. He is also able to read with confidence to his father, but cannot do the same in a more civilised environment - at school, for instance.
However, herein perhaps lies Honey's greatest drawback. Its narrative lacks tangible significance or any sense of event, instead focusing on the family's daily routine and Yusuf's days at school. While this is well executed and reasonably engrossing for the most part, it doesn't necessarily feel like time well spent. It becomes most apparent when Yakup leaves for the next valley in search of honey, removing the core – and most interesting – element of Yusaf interacting with his father. Soon after Yakup's departure, the film drifts into aimless delirium – much like its young protagonist – and what was once slow yet serene risks becoming just plain motionless.
Some moments still work quite well. Yusaf and his mother walk through the woods, triggering a well integrated day-dream of Yakup falling from a tree, in a manner reminiscent of the first scene. Other moments don't grip quite so well, though. Yusaf staying the night with his grandmother in what appears to be some kind of convent feels like padding, as does a trip undertaken by Yusaf and his mother to the local village on market day. Another fluff-up is that it’s suggested that the story is taking place in the present, but, if this is the same Yusuf from Egg, surely the narrative would need to be set circa 1970s for it to make chronological sense.
Honey's simplicity is both a blessing and a curse. The measured pace and lovely performances (Atlas in particular) make it a delicate and personal character study of a small boy who loves his father. On the flipside, very little actually happens during the narrative; only mustering a mildly satisfying climax that cynics would argue is not enough to warrant sitting through a one-hundred-minute-long film. The results are beautiful yet superfluous, but nevertheless, Honey remains intriguing and worthwhile enough for those who enjoy quiet and thoughtful cinema, and don't require the hollow pleasures that come with instant gratification. MP
