Fruit From a Cinematic Desert

A MAJOR film from Turkey is cause for celebration, simply because there haven't been any in the last ten years. It's sad in a way that Dry Summer (Susuz Yaz), must be the best Turkish film by default, but it has also proved its worth against some tough foreign competition--including The Pawnbroker--winning the Golden Bear award for best film at the Berlin International Film Festival in 1964. Directed by Ismail Metin and starring and produced by Ulvi Dogan, Dry Summer is a cinema verite account of village life in Western Turkey.

The history of the making of the film is testimony to its degree of truthfulness. Dogan made the film on a paltry budget, with one hand-held camera. The finished version includes one out of every 1.2 feet of film Dogan shot; most feature-length productions shoot at a ratio of 10 to 1 or greater. Although Dry Summer was put together in only three months, using mostly peasants for the cast, Dogan was able to produce an outstanding document of an underdeveloped country's rural life.

Upon completion, Dry Summer was reviewed and banned by a Turkish censorship board because, as Dogan put it recently, "I'm not beautifying anything, I am showing things as they are." Dogan even had to sneak his film out of the country to show it in film festivals around the world, and when he arrived back home, he was arrested for misrepresenting his country and smuggling. Since then the Turkish government has legalized the film, adapted from a novel of the same name by Necati Cumali, a lawyer involved in the actual case upon which this story is based.

Two brothers, Ossman (Erol Tas) and Hassan (Ulvi Dogan)own a farm with the only spring in miles; their water is vital for the irrigation of the villagers' crops. But Ossman decides to cut off the village's water supply to enlarge his own crops, despite his younger brother's opposition. In the ensuing battle for water Ossman and Hassan are arrested for murder, although only Ossman is responsible. Out of the traditional respect for his elders, Hassan admits guilt and takes Ossman's place in jail while he returns to the farm.

Running simultaneously with their struggle to preserve water in the summer drought is the two brothers' inner struggle for the same woman. Bahar (Hulya Kocygigit) loves Hassan and is even willing to forego the man's traditional dowry payment to marry him. Ossman wants Bahar, not only for his own gratification but for work in his fields. Once Hassan is in jail, Ossman forces himself on Bahar. The film moves slowly towards the brothers' inevitable face-off and an abrupt, violent denoument.

Dry Summer is best described as an eclectic offering of film techniques surrounded by an aura of American westerns. There is that same kind of primeval fight for natural resources--like cattle-ranchers against sheepherders--but there is none of the glorification or romantic ornamentation. The conditions it describes are real and they have remained the same for centuries: in much of Western Turkey, where tobacco is grown, water and women are the sources of tension and feuding.

DOGAN MAINTAINS that the film has an explicit political message, that it is an examination of corruption and apathy within the government. But its appeal seems to be more in its obvious good-will-win-over-evil message. Political ideology is submerged beneath the surface of individuals in conflict. The government is merely a force in the background, not the central focus of the film. And the conflict itself sometimes borders on the melodramatic.

The hero, Hassan, is a stylized creation--one never learns where he acquires his values, or why he follows his brother's will so cravenly in the beginning. And through a large portion of the film's middle he's away in jail. His calm dispassionate heroism doesn't help elucidate the tensions within him between tradition and new values.

Bahar, too, in her naivete, fails to present a completely convincing character, not because one can't believe her circumstances, but because more is needed of her personal background or of the cultural framework in which the film is set. Ossman is probably the best portrayed of the three, but only because his character is easily accessible; he knows what he wants--it is only a matter of timing and shrewdness.

Despite the film's occasional lapse into stereotype, the photography in Dry Summer and the rich life it captures are worth seeing. Several scenes display a remarkable degree of sophistication, especially the objective-subjective shots that show what Ossman is looking at from his own perspective. They lead you into his character, and then betray any sympathy you might have for him. The close-ups of peasants' faces are remarkable, and the luxuriant music of the bazouki and oud for more traditional scenes are deftly juxtaposed against the modern, atonal percussive mixture for chase-scenes and night shots.

Dry Summerhas come to Harvard ten years too late, but it is no less relevant today than when it was first smuggled out of Turkey. It makes a good case for more cinema verite from underdeveloped countries.