David O'ConnellTWO LINES @ the Melbourne International Film Festival
July 27th 2009 04:27
It was a fairly disappointing start to this year’s MIFF for me. First cab off the rank was Two Lines (Iki Cizgi), a debut from Turkish director Selim Evci. Promising on paper, it proved to be a glacial, underwritten drama about the disassociation dogging a couple whose lives are trapped in a vicious, sedentary circle. I’d love to use terms like ‘probing’ and ‘insightful’ but they simply don’t apply here. On the other hand, 'excruciating' is a much better fit.
Evci reveals some talent on a purely visual level with occasionally clever framing and interesting glimpses of Istanbul's unique architecture. When his characters hit the road there’s further beauty to be gleaned from the picturesque landscapes as well. Where he fails miserably is in his writing; the film is mostly bereft of dialogue, doling out exchanges only lasting a sentence or two and sometimes poorly executed at that.
Consequently, little of what takes place is believable and lead actor Kaan Keskin, who plays Mert, a boring, morose photographer, is the chief culprit. He offers only inconclusive glimpses inside his character’s head despite having to display a minimal emotional range.
His older girlfriend, the frosty Selin (Gulcin Santircioglu) is clearly frustrated by the lack of communication but does little to provoke forward movement in their relationship. Her few genuine attempts fall flat. Rather than becoming incensed she pushes on, with a fatalistic subservience it feels like, to the repetitive emptiness their union seems to signify.
Evci’s film is a frustratingly simplistic one; what’s more galling are his attempts to imply complexity through a range of familiar cinematic devices. Occasionally he’ll tease elements of his loosely structured narrative into the foreground before they lose substance, either discarding them or having no idea how to put them to any use.
A good example is how he takes pains to show Mert's voyeuristic streak, spying on two beauties he can spot from his darkroom. Could this be shades of a Turkish Rear Window? Think again. It's merely another pointless diversion, an unnecessarily protracted set-up for an unlikely chance encounter with the pair on the road later on.
Only the final fifteen minutes manage to shake up the dynamics of the relationship in an interesting way, and the lone insight is a pretty disturbing one. Frustrated and frayed by the summer heat the couple find themselves stranded in a remote hotel. Compelled to talk, Mert allows his inhibitions to be broken down. A breakthrough seems on the cards but instead, this momentary allusion to a previously undetected intimacy is stood on its head by Evci’s nasty little twist.
The final scene is a dismaying, cynical one, capping off a frustrating experience. I was begging for something of worth to materialise from the morass of Evci’s ultimately weightless film. On a positive note, I do admit to liking Santircioglu’s performance even though the screenplay doesn’t come close to doing her performance justice. But there’s a grace and dignity in the way she conducts herself, further underlining her co-star’s sub-par skills.
The media spiel for Two Lines talks of the film being a window into contemporary relationships in Turkey. Damn, these people need to expand their vocabularies a bit! For me this was depressingly evasive and one-note.
Evci reveals some talent on a purely visual level with occasionally clever framing and interesting glimpses of Istanbul's unique architecture. When his characters hit the road there’s further beauty to be gleaned from the picturesque landscapes as well. Where he fails miserably is in his writing; the film is mostly bereft of dialogue, doling out exchanges only lasting a sentence or two and sometimes poorly executed at that.
Consequently, little of what takes place is believable and lead actor Kaan Keskin, who plays Mert, a boring, morose photographer, is the chief culprit. He offers only inconclusive glimpses inside his character’s head despite having to display a minimal emotional range.
His older girlfriend, the frosty Selin (Gulcin Santircioglu) is clearly frustrated by the lack of communication but does little to provoke forward movement in their relationship. Her few genuine attempts fall flat. Rather than becoming incensed she pushes on, with a fatalistic subservience it feels like, to the repetitive emptiness their union seems to signify.
Mert (Kaan Keskin)
Evci’s film is a frustratingly simplistic one; what’s more galling are his attempts to imply complexity through a range of familiar cinematic devices. Occasionally he’ll tease elements of his loosely structured narrative into the foreground before they lose substance, either discarding them or having no idea how to put them to any use.
A good example is how he takes pains to show Mert's voyeuristic streak, spying on two beauties he can spot from his darkroom. Could this be shades of a Turkish Rear Window? Think again. It's merely another pointless diversion, an unnecessarily protracted set-up for an unlikely chance encounter with the pair on the road later on.
Only the final fifteen minutes manage to shake up the dynamics of the relationship in an interesting way, and the lone insight is a pretty disturbing one. Frustrated and frayed by the summer heat the couple find themselves stranded in a remote hotel. Compelled to talk, Mert allows his inhibitions to be broken down. A breakthrough seems on the cards but instead, this momentary allusion to a previously undetected intimacy is stood on its head by Evci’s nasty little twist.
The final scene is a dismaying, cynical one, capping off a frustrating experience. I was begging for something of worth to materialise from the morass of Evci’s ultimately weightless film. On a positive note, I do admit to liking Santircioglu’s performance even though the screenplay doesn’t come close to doing her performance justice. But there’s a grace and dignity in the way she conducts herself, further underlining her co-star’s sub-par skills.
The media spiel for Two Lines talks of the film being a window into contemporary relationships in Turkey. Damn, these people need to expand their vocabularies a bit! For me this was depressingly evasive and one-note.
Selin (Gulcin Santircioglu)
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Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Dave, you're reviews are always so balanced that for you to react in such a strong fashion makes me very wary of this indeed. Will avoid.
Comment by MelGee
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
This is one to avoid but in all honesty I don't think there's any danger of it getting a general release - the cinema's would all have to provide a mass of pillows to patrons; I'm sure MelGee would agree!
Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight