Good morning.
Had your breakfast?
Good morning. Yes, thanks.
I gathered some mushrooms.
Would you like some fried?
No, thanks. Really. I'm full.
Thanks.
Fine. Have a nice day.
By the way...
do you keep horses at this hotel?
No, no horses.
You don't?
I saw horses on your website.
True, there are lots of wild horses
around here.
I mean...
it's just to decorate the website.
I see.
Good morning, Mr Aydin.
- Where on earth were you?
- I'm here.
The client wants his breakfast,
and there's nobody here.
Where's Hidayet?
Here somewhere.
Shall I make your coffee, Mr Aydin?
Shall I make your coffee?
I gathered mushrooms.
Oh, where did you find them?
Is Nihal up yet?
Mrs Nihal got up early
and had breakfast already.
Is she in her room?
I don't know. I suppose so.
Is Necla up?
Mrs Necla hasn't come down yet.
I see.
Bring the coffee to my study.
WINTER SLEEP
- Will the dogs attack us?
- No, don't worry.
Ekrem!
Ekrem!
The horse I'll catch for you
is the toughest breed in Turkey.
Come on, we saw them for 600.
But how old are they?
Are their legs OK? Their tendons?
Any lung or heart problems?
You don't know anything.
You'll go and buy one, then be sorry.
You'll pay 500, then sell it for 300.
I'll catch you a young, sturdy one.
He'll be your friend for life.
Isn't that perfect?
- The colour?
- You can choose.
There's a choice.
Just let me check its hooves
to make sure it's sturdy.
Two years ago, I caught a horse.
I entered it in the Jockey Club
endurance race.
It won the 80km event.
The guys said it was
as small as a donkey.
"But donkeys lead camels",
I told them.
That's our Anatolian horses.
I finished 45 minutes
before the rest.
- 45 minutes!
- 27 horses started.
These are our ancestors' horses,
fine, hardy beasts.
So when can we do it?
When I have time
and the weather's fine.
This coming week?
If the mud dries.
I'll let you know.
Did the other one pay
after the warning?
No. Nothing.
The lawyer says we could evict him
in two months.
How?
The law protects the tenants.
They don't know all that.
I don't think
they will even hire a lawyer.
Sometimes,
I'm tempted to sell them all,
although they come from my father.
They think you're a bit soft.
That's why they behave like this.
Otherwise, there's no such thing
around here.
How dare they not pay rent?
Come on, Hidayet.
What else can I do?
What's so soft about me?
We go to court.
What else can we do?
Well, Mr Aydin,
there are actually
lots of things to do.
Anyway...
Fucking bastard!
Come here, you!
Get up, you!
Keep still or I'll slap you.
- What happened?
- I caught him.
I mean, why is he soaked?
He fell in the water.
He tried to jump the stream
and slipped.
- Any bruises?
- No. He just got wet.
So why throw the stone?
Soaked like that,
best get him home quick
before he catches cold.
I'll explain later, Mr Aydin.
All right.
Come on.
- I'll talk to them.
- All right.
Hamdi hodja!
You get inside.
Hello.
Hello.
- What's wrong?
- Nothing.
Your kid fell in the water.
We brought him back quick.
- Where, how?
- Near Issiz.
He slipped jumping the stream
and got wet.
What was he doing there?
He was hiding, waiting for our car.
He threw a stone
and broke our window.
We'd have crashed if I hadn't
managed to turn and brake.
- My son Ilyas?
- Yes.
- He broke your window with a stone?
- Yes. Go see for yourself.
How can such a little kid
break a window like that?
You know better than me, Ismail.
He's your son after all.
Stop bullshitting.
Say what you want.
Nothing to say.
The glass is there. You tell me.
It's no simple matter.
We nearly crashed, Ismail.
What do you expect?
Am I wrong?
Anyway, we'll pay for it.
Look, it's not just about the money.
Call the kid and ask him
what got into him.
We asked him already,
but he wouldn't say.
We nearly died out there,
because of a shitty little stone.
It's no joke, Ismail.
Ilyas.
Come here!
Did you throw the stone, son?
Did you?
Ilyas!
Did you throw that stone?
Go now.
There was no need for that.
Don't go over the top.
But it's not so simple.
That's why I'm telling you.
Hidayet.
How's that? Happy?
Is that all right now?
Feel better?
A slap for a broken window.
Is that enough for you two?
Or should I call him back
for some more?
What's all this, Ismail?
What's happening?
Hidayet?
The kid fell in the water.
We brought him back.
But we shouldn't have bothered.
Our Ilyas broke their car window.
- He broke their window?
- Yes.
So they're here to make us pay.
Did I say that?
Didn't I say we brought him home
so he wouldn't get sick?
Cut it out.
You took our fridge and TV
for a lousy rent. Isn't that enough?
Now you're hassling a kid?
- Stop showing off, Ismail.
- What did you say?
- Don't bullshit me, Ismail.
- What bullshit?
Ismail, don't piss me off.
What the fuck?
- Whatever. Get lost.
- What the fuck did you say?
Stop bullshitting.
You come and hassle me at home.
Who the hell do you think you are?
I've no time for all this...
- Clear off, Hamdi. I'll fuck him up!
- Ismail!
Come here!
Come here, I'm telling you.
Don't make it any worse.
Ismail, I'm talking to you.
Let go.
I'll fuck him over right here.
Stop it!
I'll kill that fucker.
I'll fuck you up, son of a bitch.
Come on, throw it, you fucker.
- Stop cursing, son of a bitch!
- Get lost!
Leave it, Ismail. Get in.
Come here!
Fuck off.
Get him inside!
- Look at that bastard.
- Come on.
Letting a drunk provoke you.
But he kept cursing.
I'll go and see.
Fuck.
Hidayet, I'm really sorry.
I'm as shocked as you.
I don't know what to say.
What's going on, Hamdi?
What's all this show about?
It's beyond me.
He wouldn't dare act big
if you weren't here.
Well... the window's broken
and we'll pay for it.
We'll pay the rent
as soon we can, too.
We haven't forgotten. God willing,
I'll bring it all to you in person.
But we're having a hard time.
We're not here for that.
That's a different issue.
We always pay our debts.
Mr Aydin's late father knew us well.
With him, we never had any problems.
We got on well for years.
That's why you didn't have to do
what you did.
Wouldn't it be better
if we weren't disgraced?
Don't you agree?
We too have our pride.
For God's sake, Hamdi,
drop that talk.
We didn't say anything for months.
You'll start blaming us at this rate.
OK, Hidayet, come on.
But sending a debt collector
so suddenly, is that right?
You could have talked to us first.
Talking exists, doesn't it?
Come on, Hidayet.
How many times did we talk?
How many times did I tell you?
I did, didn't I?
A thousand times, Mr Aydin.
You'll talk about it later. Come on.
And I told you we'd sort it out.
Didn't I?
And did you sort it out?
Is it sorted out, Hamdi?
Forget it, it's OK.
My apologies again, Mr Aydin.
I myself will bring the money
for the window to your place.
OK, you'll talk about it later.
I'll settle it quickly.
I'll come whenever it suits you.
- All right.
- Please, don't worry.
You waste your time with anybody.
Jerk. Scum of the earth.
- My apologies again.
- Who the hell are you?
OK, bye.
Have a good day.
Bastard. Son of a bitch.
Fatma.
Come here.
What's that?
Your dowry.
What do you think?
Put them down.
Take these.
Leave them.
- Where shall I take them?
- Out back, to the terrace.
Careful, don't bump into anything.
Easy. Come on.
- Let me take it.
- I'm fine.
I'm off to get the window fixed.
- All right.
- Anything else?
No.
Should I get a brand-name
or generic product?
Where'll you get a brand?
Nowhere.
That's why I'm asking.
Huh?
Go on, Hidayet.
- Do we have guests?
- Levent the teacher is here.
- So they had tea?
- Yes, but they want coffee now.
What are you doing?
Not much.
Here's a hot drink for my brother.
That's nice of you.
Who'd care for me,
if you weren't around?
- We're out of lime, so I made sage.
- Don't worry, it's fine.
Don't stop. I'll just flick through
some magazines.
Sure.
Are you writing your column?
I'm trying to.
By the way, I read last week's.
I liked it.
Which one do you mean?
Urban ugliness in Anatolia.
Aesthetic deprivation and so on.
- Right.
- Bravo.
How do you come up with
interesting ideas every week?
Did you really like it?
It was good.
It's not about wealth and poverty.
Poverty existed in the past, too.
If you only have three olives,
you can place them nicely on a plate,
or gobble them
out of the plastic bag.
I know what you mean.
I told you we went to the hodja's?
You know, our tenant.
Yes?
If you saw how filthy it was,
how messy.
- Did you go in?
- No, I mean the garden.
They've ruined it.
A woman lives there too,
but you wouldn't think so.
First of all, you are a man of God.
You should be a model
to your community.
Shouldn't you be neat and tidy?
Who is he? Do I know him?
No, you wouldn't.
An old tenant
from back in my father's day.
I'd walk past him in the street.
Just a crooked, shabby guy.
I don't know...
Shouldn't men of God
be a model to the public?
Especially in rural areas.
Perhaps I should write about that
next week?
The very thought of him
gets on my nerves.
Of course, write about
anything you want.
But...
Wouldn't it be better to write
for a bigger paper
instead of a local one nobody reads?
Then at least it would be worth
all your efforts.
I don't feel I'm making any efforts.
I mean, I hear you typing away
in front of your computer all week.
That's why.
If you didn't bring me that paper,
I wouldn't even know it existed.
That's what I mean.
Frankly, I don't give a damn
about big papers.
My kingdom may be small
but at least I'm the king there.
I mean, who's going to read
this paper?
Who's going to buy it?
I don't agree with you,
my dear Necla.
On the contrary.
Sometimes I receive
letters from my readers
that prove to me
I'm on the right path.
Even my efforts, as you say,
feel more than worth it.
- Take yesterday...
- Yes but sometimes on the Internet,
some awful writers get praised
to high heaven.
Everyone has their fans somehow.
That's why I think one shouldn't
take such praise so seriously.
I mean, that shouldn't be
your reference.
Anyway, keep on writing.
Don't let me distract you.
I'll just lie down here.
In silence.
The mud makes driving up here hard.
Why don't you lay some gravel?
The tourists like it this way,
it's more natural.
I didn't say asphalt, I said gravel.
That's natural too.
With gravel,
half the tourists wouldn't come.
Very few clients in winter, in fact.
Wouldn't be worth it.
Of course nobody comes with this mud.
Don't want everyone here anyway.
I just want those who value
a natural setting.
Fancy a sprint?
- Fine.
- Good.
- Ready?
- Yes.
We're off!
Did you put on weight?
- What?
- You put on weight?
What weight, man?
My belly's declared independence.
- Be careful. Don't let yourself go.
- What if I did?
I've buried my wife.
I'm all alone.
It's you who should be worried.
With a young, beautiful wife.
If you don't look out, they'll be
asking if Nihal's your daughter.
Come on. I'm not that bad.
What about that mass suicide
around your hairline then?
It's no big deal, but...
You know that village, Garip,
near your farm...
Yes, but I've never been.
Whatever...
A girl from the public education
office wrote to me.
I don't usually care much
for that kind of thing.
But for some reason, I was touched.
Maybe I'm just getting old.
I wanted to ask you
whether I should take it seriously.
What's she after? A donation?
Nothing much, the main thing is...
Come in, Fatma.
I couldn't make out if she's sincere
or after something else.
Being a good judge of character,
you'll easily see
what's what from the letter.
I wanted to ask you.
- Where shall I put your tea?
- On the table's fine.
- Where is the letter?
- On the computer.
- Read it out then.
- Right, listen.
Thanks, Fatma.
Nihal loves charity like this.
Should we call her as well?
Go ahead. If you like.
- We should, shouldn't we?
- Yes.
I don't know if she's free.
Nihal?
Suavi's here,
we're discussing something.
I was wondering
if you're free to join us.
We need your opinion.
Yes, we're in my study.
All right, dear.
- She's coming.
- Good.
Mr Suavi, how are you?
Fine, thanks, and you?
Fine, thank you.
It's been a long time.
Are you doing OK?
I'm fine. No problems.
I don't leave the farm anyway.
What problems could there be?
How are your activities doing?
As usual. The same old routine.
But tell me what's your secret
for looking younger
and more beautiful every time?
That's very kind of you.
Thanks very much.
How is your daughter?
Does she come to visit?
Well, you know...
She came once when she graduated.
And when we lost her mother.
That was it really.
- She's still in London?
- Yes.
Why don't you join her?
Why stay here all alone?
Me?
Heaven forbid.
I can't stand that English husband
saying "Oh lovely" to everything.
Just don't talk like that.
So, let me tell Nihal.
I was saying to Suavi
I got a letter the other day.
A young girl who teaches needlecraft
in a local village.
In short, she's asking for help.
I'm not sure how to respond,
so I thought I'd ask you two.
What kind of help does she want?
Actually, the letter is here.
Shall I read it?
Sure. Go ahead.
All right then, I will.
Let me see.
Yes, here it is.
"Dear Mr Aydin,
"I would like you to know that...
"I am a great admirer of you
and your articles.
"I'm always eager
to read your weekly column
"in our local paper
'Voice of the Steppe',
"impatient to benefit from your vast
experience and courageous ideas.
"We, the teachers
at the Technical School for Girls,
"are proud that our town
has such a valued citizen."
Blah, blah, we can skip all this.
Yes... let's continue from there.
"We, a group of teachers,
"wanted to build
a small building in Garip,
"one of the area's poorest villages
to teach crafts and writing
"to the women of the village.
"The mukhtar helped
as much as he could.
"However, despite all our efforts,
our resources ran out
"with the work not finished.
"We applied for support to the
municipality, but we were rejected.
"We have been left helpless,
all alone in the middle of this steppe,
"with all our good intentions
and hopes.
"While we sat disheartened
seeking a solution,
"I suddenly remembered your article
'Flowers of the Steppes'.
"It felt as if you were describing us.
"Me and my friends read
that article again in tears.
"Believe me, my intention
is not emotional blackmail.
"I want you to know
that I would never feel ashamed
"to bow in front of a good person
like you to beg for help
"for the unfortunate people
of these arid steppes
"where I am proud to be born.
"I'll be brief.
"Since we heard about your connections
with the wealthy people of the region
"and the administration,
"and we know you are well connected,
even as far away as Istanbul,
"we wanted to tell you
of our situation.
"We would like to thank you,
however you respond.
"Yours sincerely."
So, well...
That's it.
I don't know.
She appears to be a well-intentioned,
decent, intelligent girl.
Clearly an idealist,
bold and courageous.
Seems like she deserves
some support.
What do you think?
Nihal?
Frankly...
it didn't sound to me very...
I get this every day from all over.
OK.
What exactly
didn't sound right to you?
Well...
Isn't it a bit of a luxury
to build a new place just for this?
It's a tiny village after all.
Normally the mukhtar
gives a space for these things.
You decorate it a bit and you manage.
So I felt it sounded a bit too much.
Even the municipality
refused to help them.
We'll have a hard time finding
common sense in municipal decisions.
Well, I don't know.
And you, Suavi?
I really don't know.
Don't you think you and I,
and a few other local worthies
could get together?
Dear Aydin,
do I really look like a worthy?
My belly is my only worthy feature,
and it's now independent.
However,
I must say
you surprised me, Nihal.
Why?
Well...
Because thanks to you this hotel
has been run like a charity for years.
What are you trying to say?
Well...
When a chronic philanthropist,
who has helped
almost every school in the area,
opposes this idea so firmly,
I fail to understand.
What is there to understand?
It's a matter of urgency.
There are primary schools
with leaky roofs and rotten windows.
Little kids studying
with their gloves on.
Isn't it more logical
to solve these problems first?
We've been collecting donations
for this for a long time now.
But it never attracted
your attention.
So I don't understand
your sudden charity.
Anyway, I'm expecting guests.
I have to go.
Mr Suavi, could you come and see me
for a minute before you leave?
Sure. I'll drop by.
Then I won't say goodbye.
See you shortly.
You know what?
All this poverty and hardship
is like a natural disaster.
In a sense, it's the will of God.
You can't oppose destiny.
But God also gave us intelligence
to fight such things.
That's true.
That's true, however...
there are people
specially created for such tasks.
You should leave
these tasks to them.
You're a creative man.
You are an artist.
Why bother yourself with such things?
Stick to your own work.
Mr Aydin, Hamdi is here.
- Who's Hamdi?
- Hamdi hodja, the imam.
Fine, I was leaving anyway.
Stay a little bit more.
I have loads of work to do.
Loads of work to do on the farm.
I'll show Suavi out.
Bring Hamdi hodja in here.
All right.
Welcome, Hamdi hodja.
Thank you, Mr Aydin.
You could've kept your shoes on.
It's not that clean.
No, Mr Aydin. My shoes got muddy.
It's better like this.
- Some slippers then.
- No, I'm fine.
Hold on.
The floor is very cold in here.
Fatma, bring me a pair of slippers.
And some tea and cookies.
OK.
Take a seat, Hamdi hodja.
Yes, Hamdi hodja. I'm listening.
To tell you the truth,
I don't know where to begin.
When you came the other day,
it was a bit...
Sorry, just a minute.
It's a bit stuffy in here.
If you don't mind...
I'll open a window.
Yes?
Honestly, I don't know how to put it.
It was embarrassing for us,
I'm sorry, but...
we didn't mean badly, of course.
The kid made a mistake because
he was upset by what happened.
But he's just a kid, after all.
Of course, he is.
But have you asked him why he did it?
After all, the incident
could have had
quite serious consequences.
Yes, of course, I asked him.
And what did he say?
Well, Mr Aydin...
the kid was upset
by the debt collector,
so he went and did
such a stupid thing.
Especially seeing his father
get beaten up.
Beaten up?
When the debt collectors came,
Ismail tried to stop them obviously.
And the police were there.
So things got out of hand.
I see.
So our car paid the price, right?
More or less, Mr Aydin.
I apologise.
But now the boy
feels really bad about it.
He wants to come over
and kiss your hand for forgiveness.
No. No need for that.
He regrets it. Really.
But as I said the other day,
we always pay our debts.
I actually have some money now.
So I came to pay for the car window.
How much was it?
It doesn't matter.
Sort it out with Hidayet.
I don't know much about it.
I think it was 70 liras or something.
But it's best you talk with Hidayet.
70 liras?
70 liras for just one window?
That's right.
And it is not the brand-name one.
If it had been...
Hidayet can show you the bill.
Well...
I'm not sure if I have enough on me.
Let me just ask Hidayet
how much it was.
It's no big deal.
There's no rush.
After all, it's just a window.
You think so?
In that case,
I'd better not pay in instalments.
I'll pay it all in one go, then.
Just to prevent any confusion.
- Hello.
- You there?
Nothing, I just wanted to ask
how much the window cost.
I remember you saying 70 liras.
Really?
I got it wrong then.
OK, all right.
Fine, no problem. Never mind.
I was wrong. It's 170, not 70.
170 liras?
But how come?
That's how much it cost.
Hidayet can show you the bill.
I forgot to ask
if he took a bill though.
That's strange.
It's just a window.
Really strange.
There must be some mistake, surely.
What's this?
Are there no men's slippers?
No, we don't use any at the hotel.
Fatma had these at home.
No worries, these will do.
As long as they keep the cold off.
Where shall I put the tea?
Here. Let me move this.
Hamdi hodja, come here.
Thank you.
Now, Hamdi, listen...
I've got various houses
and shops in town.
Not just mine actually...
They're my sister Necla's too.
If I tried
to look after them all myself,
I'd have no time to work
on my book and articles.
See what I mean?
So I let Hidayet and the lawyers
deal with the rent and lawsuits.
I often don't even know
what they're doing.
And if they tell me,
I tend to forget.
The other day,
your younger or older brother...
Older.
He said some inappropriate things.
But I insist...
not to mention the debt collectors.
I wasn't even aware
you were my tenants.
When the rent is not paid,
lawyers do these things automatically.
Understand?
Of course, Mr Aydin. It's obvious.
You have to do these things.
You've been very patient with us.
But, since Ismail came out of prison,
he hasn't sorted himself out yet.
Nobody gives him a job.
I don't see why not, but they don't.
That's why we need time
to get back on our feet.
So, Mr Aydin,
if you could just step in
to stop the eviction...
We will sort something out
as soon as possible.
We really don't want
to lose the house.
I spent my entire childhood
in that house.
So if you could give us more time...
What do you expect me to say?
I see your point but...
you need to discuss it with Hidayet.
I don't know anything about it.
Did you talk to him?
- No.
- Talk to Hidayet.
I mean...
There's Hidayet and the lawyers.
You don't need to come to me.
They know more about it.
Don't come to me again.
I don't want to mislead you.
In a country
with a 99% Muslim population,
don't the people deserve men of God
who are cultivated, neat,
whose very presence is reassuring?
The weekly sermon
prepared by our imams,
from their reading,
will be heard
with pleasure and admiration
and will elevate the people.
Islam is a religion
of civilisation and high culture.
How's that?
Fine.
It's not too harsh?
No.
- Nothing that might be misunderstood?
- No.
You don't say anything
about religion itself.
You talk about the practices
of those who apply it.
And I also say
Islam is a religion of high culture.
Of course.
I don't really care for these things.
But you know it's delicate.
But the guy annoys me so much,
I can't stop myself writing.
So he managed to become
the subject of an article.
With his shabbiness,
slyness, vagueness...
You know...
I once played an imam in a play
and got good reviews.
Now when I see him,
I tend to think I wasn't that good.
I missed so many details.
Did you see that play?
Sorry? Which play?
The one where I played an imam.
"Wounded Birds".
Can't remember.
He comes running out in the
first scene, bursting for the toilet.
It must have been when I was abroad.
He comes running on:
"Where's the loo?"
- No. Was it a comedy?
- Yes.
- And first...
- I don't remember.
I want to ask you something.
Not resisting evil...
What does that mean to you?
What?
Not resisting evil, I said.
What do you think that means?
Not resisting evil?
How do you understand it?
Well...
One day, thieves attack you
and you don't resist.
I suppose that's it.
I don't want an example.
Give me a logical definition.
I wonder if there is any logic in it.
A logical definition
of not resisting evil.
Not resisting evil is...
to remain indifferent
to incidents defined as evil
within an ethical framework.
How's that?
For instance, if we were to...
make this idea of not resisting evil
the basis of our behaviour,
what kind of life would we have?
What kind of life?
What would it be like?
Thieves, murderers, psychos
would prosper.
Chaos would reign everywhere.
- What would be left, then?
- Left?
Cripples and madhouses.
How should I know?
Maybe you're right.
But I couldn't take
the easy way out like you.
What easy way out?
Maybe you should think about it.
You went a bit too fast.
I didn't. It's simple.
Someone does wrong,
you don't resist. That's it.
What else is there?
I still feel...
we're fooling ourselves
when we're fighting evil.
As if we didn't want to look
at every aspect, we hide some.
Like what?
Fatma, this honey is frozen.
You got another?
- I'll check.
- If not, just put it in warm water.
Instead of struggling against evil,
why not do the exact opposite?
Say you don't want
a painting to be stolen.
It's maybe better
to hand it to the thief.
Maybe it's a better solution.
Say I want to marry an heiress
because her father is rich.
To foil my sneaky plot, she should
throw herself in my arms. Is that it?
But maybe he would be ashamed,
feel remorse
and admit his fault.
Shouldn't we allow for that?
What a ridiculous idea!
Should we allow mass murders
because some killers could regret it?
Even soaps don't
produce such nonsense.
Well, I don't care what you think.
I have my solution.
I see no reason to resist
an evil act aimed at me personally.
Does someone want to kill me?
Be my guest.
Because, if I were to defend myself,
that wouldn't make
the murderer a better person.
But if you defend yourself,
you may not die.
Isn't that worth it?
Trust me, it isn't.
Let's drop it.
I feel depressed already.
What do you think, Nihal?
To be honest...
I don't quite grasp it.
Where does this need come from?
Why do you feel like this?
It's not a need, just an idea.
She wants to help evil get done.
Hold on... Is that how you want
to end evil in the world?
Or do you want
to find peace that way?
She wants to help the baddies
do bad more comfortably.
I'm just saying we should
give evildoers a chance
to feel regret.
A chance for the bad guys, great!
You pretend not to understand.
That's how I understood it, sweetie.
How did you manage that, sweetie?
She's saying evildoers regret it
if you help them do it?
- No...
- That's what I understand.
How can you understand that?
So how do you understand it?
It is very clear what she's saying.
If someone does me harm,
a thief or someone...
I don't resist and by doing so,
stir his conscience...
Stop it. What's got into you two
this morning?
What's this about helping
evildoers do evil?
Who said that?
Is that how you plan to end evil?
You're trying to provoke us now.
I'm just saying what I understood.
Am I wrong?
It's easy to understand.
She says if something bad
is done to us,
by not resisting, the evildoer
may be sorry and give up.
Is that possible?
That's not the question.
I'm just saying one could try.
So the Jews should deport themselves.
So that Hitler doesn't get tired.
He'd say "Here they are,
no point gassing them"?
- You joking?
- No. That's what I understand.
Help evildoers do evil
so they stop doing evil.
Never heard such nonsense before!
I misunderstand...
or you aren't making yourself
clear enough.
Mr Aydin,
they're here again.
- Who?
- Hamdi.
- What Hamdi? Hamdi hodja?
- Yes.
- He's here?
- Yes, he's upstairs.
What for?
He already came the other day.
I don't know, he won't say.
He's acting all mysterious.
Not him, not now.
Did you tell him I'm here?
Of course not. I said I'd see.
If he wants to leave something,
you take it.
He came yesterday too.
He didn't leave anything.
- Yesterday, too?
- Yes.
Why didn't you tell me?
We talked about it. You were in bed.
You had me say you weren't in.
Really?
- That boy is here too.
- What boy?
The window one.
- He was here yesterday, too.
- I begin to smell trouble.
Why not speak to him?
They've come all that way.
What's so frightening?
Nothing. It's not that, my dear.
But he's whiney, annoying,
never finishes a sentence.
But they're here now.
We can't send them away.
All right. Let them in.
Let's see what he's after.
I'll do it your way
to see if I got you right.
Hamdi's coming.
I'll say yes to everything he wants.
- But he has done no evil to you.
- Maybe he will.
We don't know why he's here yet.
But I won't protest.
Evil or good, let's see...
- A knife in his pocket?
- Who knows?
Come in, Hamdi hodja, welcome.
Welcome, Mr Hamdi.
Thank you.
Sorry for disturbing you
during breakfast.
You're not disturbing us at all.
Would you like some breakfast?
Thank you, madam. We're not hungry.
Please have a seat.
Fatma, some tea for our guests.
And cookies for the boy.
The valley is muddy.
I'm sorry, we're covered in mud.
Why were you in the valley?
- Which way did you take?
- We took the shortcut.
I saw two figures over there.
Was that you?
- Probably.
- Really.
You walked all the way from town?
Yes, we did. Why?
It's quite a long way.
Yes, it's far.
It is. Isn't it?
Did you walk the last time too?
I mean yesterday.
Yes.
My goodness.
Why didn't you say so?
Hidayet could have given you
a lift back.
I feel sorry now.
No need to apologise.
It's like exercise for us.
Don't worry.
Aydin, show them a seat...
Fatma, bring my tea over there.
Please have a seat.
You don't even have a moped?
I'll get one when things
start looking up.
- That would be great.
- God willing.
Luckily the house
is next to the mosque.
Five round trips a day
would have been hard.
God bless you.
Is he your son?
- He looks like you.
- No.
He's my nephew.
My brother's son.
I don't have any children.
Struggling to make ends meet,
I couldn't get married.
My fate, I guess.
You will eventually.
You're still young.
But Ilyas is like a son to me.
Of course.
Which class are you in, Ilyas?
Speak up, son, which grade?
Fifth.
Mr Aydin...
I'm off to the industrial zone.
- What for?
- To get the car door fixed.
What's so urgent about it?
Nothing.
But the engine too is making a noise.
- What noise?
- A kind of "zheeee".
Could be the cylinders.
I don't want to ruin the engine.
All right, go.
Mr Aydin, as I said before...
after that incident,
the boy felt terribly sorry.
- Which incident?
- That stone he threw.
That's over and done with.
I mean... the poor boy feels so bad,
he's been all upset
and worried ever since.
Now, Mr Aydin,
apologising is not easy.
As for repentance,
it's a matter of maturity.
But while there's still resentment,
one can't feel truly at peace.
Our Prophet said,
"Repentance is penitence."
If a person convinces you
that they're really sorry,
then we have no choice
except to forgive them.
That's how it is.
And our Ilyas is such a smart
and golden-hearted boy
that young as he is, he listened to me.
He thought about it and agreed.
That's why he wanted to come today
to kiss your hand.
I said, "That would be
the right thing, my boy."
"You'll see, show regret and
Mr Aydin will surely forgive you."
Right?
It's really not necessary.
It doesn't matter at all.
Of course it's necessary.
Otherwise he'll get away
with what he's done.
That's the biggest danger.
Ilyas? Isn't that right, my dear?
I don't like getting my hand kissed.
My father never allowed it either.
We'd struggle to kiss his hand.
Wouldn't we, Necla?
No. He can't find real peace then.
Isn't that so, dear?
Come on now, son,
kiss Mr Aydin's hand.
Ilyas?
Didn't we say we'd go and do this
without telling your dad?
Don't embarrass me
in front of everyone.
Come on, son. Kiss Mr Aydin's hand.
Fine, then.
Ilyas, come on.
Mr Aydin is waiting.
Don't pull, keep it loose.
Pull now.
Let it rest a bit.
Don't get too close.
Oh, it's freezing.
I'm chilled to the bone.
What are you doing?
Not much.
Where's Aydin?
No idea.
Must have gone into town.
He's not in his room?
No, he isn't.
I'll make more coffee.
Want some?
Coffee, I said, want some?
Yes, I'll have one.
I don't know what to do
with the new maid, Nihal.
She put glasses I love
in the dishwasher.
Two got smashed.
I know, she told me.
They're obviously too thin
for the dishwasher. They broke.
I'm thinking of taking it out
of her wages to teach her.
That's a bit much. Forget it.
I'm not exaggerating.
There are things you love and value.
I bought them in Istanbul.
You can't get them anymore.
I know, but they're just glasses.
Maybe you're right. I don't know.
No, maybe you're right.
I'm aware I'm a bit nervy lately.
It's because I worry too much.
Worry about what?
There's so much going around
in my head.
My ex has become a real alcoholic.
- Who? Necdet?
- Yes.
But he always drank a lot, didn't he?
He did indeed, but...
he's been drinking much more
since we separated.
He starts the minute he gets up.
But there's nothing
you can do about that.
I know...
but sometimes...
I can't help thinking
we're worse off after splitting up.
Him over there in that state,
me here miserable.
- Is that what you really think?
- Well...
Maybe I'm just trying to figure out
where I went wrong.
What I did that made us
end up like this.
But if you've still found nothing
years later,
maybe it's not your fault at all.
Don't you agree?
You want me to join the herd
that believes
all badness comes from others?
No, but it still doesn't have to be
"your" mistake.
That's what I'm saying.
Why do you never want
to think like that?
Because I don't see any good in it.
A sensible person should only be
interested in her own share of guilt.
I see no harm in some self-deception
to protect yourself.
But, well...
Where do you think you're wrong?
I don't know but...
I'm just saying it as an example...
If I'd overlooked all the evil stuff
Necdet did to me,
if I hadn't resisted,
if I hadn't divorced him, say.
If I could have made him
face his own evil side.
I don't know.
I wonder what would've happened
if I had acted differently.
You mean, if you hadn't resisted
all the bad things he did,
he would've finally felt ashamed?
Yes.
Yes. Exactly. You put it well.
I know it sounds absurd,
but it isn't, believe me.
Sorry, Necla,
but I find it hard to believe.
People don't change that much
after a certain age.
On the contrary,
all their bad habits get even worse.
So remaining silent
in the face of evil
does nothing but make the other feel
even more justified.
I think he regrets it now, too.
That's why I say this.
I feel it.
If he could find an excuse,
he'd come here right away.
If I were living somewhere else,
he'd definitely do that.
But after all that happened,
he is a bit scared of Aydin now.
But you know
what I sometimes feel like?
Going and asking him
for forgiveness.
Necdet?
Yes.
But you did nothing wrong.
Precisely.
In fact, that's the beauty of it.
Making the other really ashamed.
And in this way,
maybe bringing out the good in him.
Necla, have you been watching
too many soap operas recently?
What do you mean?
Such things only happen there.
There's nothing to say.
It's your decision.
I think it's utter nonsense,
but if that's what you want to do
nobody is going to stop you.
You can do what you like.
But then, you're the one
who has to face the consequences.
Keep that in mind, too.
That's how I see it.
Those petty, multiple-meaning,
sarcastic words,
and those little,
cynical lip movements.
I realise now how sick I am of it,
how much I hate it.
Necla, you're going too far. Please.
The real reason
I'd apologise to Necdet
is maybe to get away
from all of you and all of this.
It's pretty clear now.
Nobody is going to stop me?
Of course not.
I don't need
anybody's permission for that.
This is my father's house too.
I'll stay or go as I please.
Besides...
I've already paid the price
for telling the truth to your face.
A price none of you has paid.
Isn't that Omar Sharif?
What?
The photo. It's Omar Sharif?
Yes. They shot a movie here.
At this hotel?
No, I mean in this area.
He's such a humble man.
He'd take a picture with anybody.
- Really?
- Yes.
You don't expect that of a big star.
But he's not like that.
What film was it?
I can't remember.
I don't want to mislead you.
Hello.
What was the movie
Omar Sharif shot here?
- "Monsieur Ibrahim".
- That's it.
I've heard about it.
Where exactly did they shoot it?
Around here.
In Ishtar and other places.
- Ishtar?
- Yes.
Interesting.
Let's see where it is.
Where is everybody?
You mean Mrs Nihal and Necla?
They were here a minute ago.
Doing what?
Talking.
- Here, in the lobby.
- Really?
I went out and when I came back,
they'd left.
Were they talking normally?
What do you mean "normally"?
Whatever.
- Would you like some tea?
- Please.
Could you make us some tea?
Ishtar is very near.
Right opposite Akky.
No, I found it.
It's 20 kilometres away.
Well done, you know better than us.
No, I don't.
What do you do?
I mean what's your job?
Are you a guide?
No, I'm not.
I explore.
Isn't a motorbike hard in winter?
The harder it is
the better we like it.
Who's "we"?
Motocross bikers.
I see.
I did something like that
in my student days.
Really?
Hitchhiked across Europe
with friends.
When the going got tough
we hopped on a train.
Those were the days.
Sleeping wherever we ended up.
The world was our oyster.
It felt like life would never end.
Full of the energy of youth.
I don't care much for hitchhiking.
I need to be more self-sufficient.
I should always have the gear
to get by.
That's why a bike suits me better.
So you check into a hotel
for the night?
I have a tent and stuff
but I didn't want to pitch it here.
This place is a bit like a cave
and natural like a tent.
And I also had some stuff to write.
Really? What are you writing?
My experiences.
Like a travel journal?
There are travel notes as well.
Let's call them essays.
Soon to be published as a book.
Really? That's good.
I'm writing a book, too.
Really?
It will be a serious, thick book.
History of Turkish Theatre.
There is no serious study
on the topic.
Unfortunately.
So I'm doing research.
There's loads to read.
Old documents, articles,
books and so on.
I've nearly finished,
all I have to do now is start writing.
- "Getting started is half the job."
- That's true.
- You used to be an actor, I believe.
- That's right.
That explains your topic.
Yes, that's right.
I prefer the term 'thespian' though.
Acting has fallen from grace
a little lately.
I was on stage for 25 years.
And I am proud to say
I never did any soap operas.
Despite some very attractive offers.
I remember something
Omar Sharif told me.
When we met,
he learned I was an actor.
He gave me this look and said,
"Acting is all about honesty."
It really is.
Awesome.
- By the way, we got a horse.
- Really?
Can I ride it now?
Not yet. It has to settle in
a few days.
How long will you be staying?
- Here?
- Yes.
Don't know.
I haven't decided yet.
I live from day to day.
I don't plan ahead much.
Otherwise it's not
a real journey anymore.
You lose the sense of adventure.
How can I put it?
The way a well-planned life
doesn't feel like a real life.
As the saying goes,
life passes by
while we're busy making plans.
True. Very true.
Weren't you going to the market
with Fatma?
I told Fatma to go.
I didn't feel like it.
Have you finished
the book I lent you?
A while ago.
So?
What did you think?
Worth translating?
No, I don't think
it's worth the bother.
If I'm not interrupting,
can I ask you something?
Of course. But please,
nothing about not resisting evil, OK?
I found a good source.
I should finish this
and send it quick.
Judging from your excitement,
you struck gold.
Not really.
It's a sequel to my previous article.
It aroused lots of interest.
- Really?
- Yes.
So Vehbi said.
He said the paper got
abusive phone calls.
You know Vehbi.
He loves to exaggerate reactions
to make his paper look influential.
The article wasn't provocative.
I agree, but...
I'm not so sure.
Why do you get involved
in such things in the first place?
You're an actor.
Write what you know about.
But dear Necla, often
you don't choose what you write.
In a sense,
the subject chooses you.
Of course everyone has the right
to talk or write about what they like.
But you have to accept that
the product will match its maker.
Meaning?
I mean there will be a big difference
between the views
of a lifelong expert
and an amateur's.
But can't an outsider
sometimes see things more clearly?
Frankly, not in this case.
Which case?
Let me put it like this.
The other day...
I carefully read that article
you gave me.
Then I couldn't stop
and read some others.
And?
I probably hadn't paid
enough attention before...
but they felt quite different
this time.
Different in what sense?
I don't know.
Has Nihal read them?
No, I don't think so.
She doesn't care much
for my articles.
Shouldn't a wife read
what her husband writes?
I don't know. Should she?
Maybe she reads them in secret.
I believe she does.
She's an expert at criticising
by remaining silent.
I don't believe she'd be
objective enough anyway.
Whatever.
- So?
- Well, honestly,
I probably couldn't be so daring.
About what?
I mean...
Pontificating in a column
on matters I don't know much about.
Pontificating?
I see you found my articles
worse than I thought.
No. I'm not saying they're bad...
It's something else.
Something else?
Like what?
I mean, they're like...
Mediocre? Bloodless?
I can't find the right term.
Harmless.
Is that what you mean?
I don't know. Maybe.
Your words are sweeter
than honey today.
I'm trying to be realistic.
Well, bravo, what else can I say?
If you want,
I can stop being realistic.
Too late.
The genie is out of the bottle.
Well, if you ask for opinions
you have to face the consequences.
What can I say? That's true.
In the old days, we admired you.
We thought
you'd do great things,
become quite famous even.
But it didn't happen.
The elephant gave birth to a mouse.
Sorry to disappoint you.
That's obviously not your fault.
It's us who set the bar so high.
So I should feel comforted.
What about
"Flowers of the Steppes"?
What did you think of it?
To be honest,
that's the article that actually
made me think like this.
Really? In what way?
How can I put it?
This soppy romanticism.
This naive, unconvincing self-belief.
Takes no risks, for one thing.
It looks like the writer
adopts positive values
accepted by all,
just to endear himself.
Sometimes the disguise of lyricism
makes it stink of sentimentality.
You really are annoyed.
I must confess
I don't like this style much.
If what you say is true,
I should just quit writing.
No, dear.
This is just my point of view.
Luckily not everybody
thinks like you.
Naturally.
Who are they?
I see you're curious.
No. It's just because
you mentioned it.
- I haven't offended you, have I?
- Not at all.
Are you sure?
Maybe a little.
A writer can be very sensitive
regarding his work.
But don't worry, I can handle it.
But dear, you're not coming up
with coherent, constructive criticism.
Like your remarks
are always hiding something.
That's what's annoying.
So I get to thinking
it's me you hate, not the articles.
- That's absurd.
- But that's the case.
And of course,
we've become very different now.
We must accept that.
We see things, life itself,
quite differently.
That's probably natural.
The older you get,
the more particular, rigid you get.
After a while, it seems normal
you don't like them.
That's maybe how it should be.
In fact, this might even be something
I should be pleased about.
You see?
Anyway...
I don't want to go into it
any further.
It's incredible how you always
float to the surface like olive oil.
You find a way
to justify yourself, as usual.
Necla, please, can we drop it?
You wanted to ask me something
when you came in.
- It's done.
- No. What were you going to ask?
The subject of the article
you've just sent.
No, it wasn't that.
Yes, that's what it was.
OK. Religion, morals, this and that.
Nothing of your interest.
Now I see.
You found a victim
and you're making the most of it.
Stop harassing the poor man.
Necla, I'm losing my temper.
What does it have to do with it?
I should ask what religion, faith,
spirituality have to do with you.
Have you ever set foot in a mosque?
Have you ever prayed
so that you can talk about it?
Do I have to go to a mosque
to write about religion?
How absurd is that?
You keep saying the imam's feet stink.
What's it to you?
The man walked 10 km in this cold.
And he had to enter the room
with those feet.
What exactly are you trying to say?
You know damn well what I'm saying.
No, I don't.
Then let me explain.
I find it insincere
to talk about spirituality
when you haven't shed
a single tear on your parents' grave
and never even visited them.
There are ways of crying
you don't know, Mrs Necla.
Fine, all right. Go on then.
I wish my threshold of self-deception
was as low as yours.
Then I could easily find
things worth doing
and escape this boredom perhaps.
I don't understand
how you don't get fed up
harping on like that.
Applying yourself, being persistent
is a precondition to penetrating
deeper and creating new things.
Second, what boredom
are you talking about?
I've never had a spare second
to feel bored.
And in the present circumstances,
I believe boredom is quite a luxury.
So it wasn't a luxury in the past
and now it is?
Fine, I'll put it like this.
Boredom is always a luxury. Happy?
We are so different,
we have such opposite souls.
It's hard to believe we're related.
That's normal.
Siblings are never alike.
If one is hardworking, the other is lazy.
One is clever, the other is a fool.
One is sociable,
the other introverted.
That's just how it is.
- So?
- So it's normal.
I can't believe
how I left a place like Istanbul
and agreed to come and live with you.
My soul's withering here.
I feel at home
wherever my room and my books are.
I feel no need for another place.
You must be able to create a world
for yourself, find an occupation.
You're bored because you sit around
doing nothing.
You've really let yourself go.
You used to do translations.
You stopped even that.
Of course you're bored.
We must work, have a passion.
You know what they say, an idle life
is far from honour and honesty.
It depends on how
you define "working".
It doesn't mean
running around pointlessly.
So what does it mean?
People who think a lot are actually
more active than the others.
Even if they don't do anything.
So you mean you're busy thinking.
Maybe I don't know what to do.
I've no passion
to give me direction.
But then, what do you do?
You waste your best years
with things that are irrelevant to you.
Are you not tired of tinkering uselessly,
like an alchemist?
Seeing you like this
depresses me.
Necla, what are you raving about,
for God's sake?
You having a bad night or what?
The more I try to humour you,
the harsher you get.
- Calm down.
- Come on, please.
I'm not surprised you got divorced
after all these years.
No man would put up with
this sharp tongue of yours.
- It takes one to know one, so true.
- What do you mean?
- Well...
- Who are we talking about?
Your other half.
You're becoming both the same.
You have to get at Nihal too, right?
I know what you two think of me.
But I don't care.
These are my own thoughts,
nothing to do with Nihal.
She walks around
like she was a guardian angel,
but in reality, she doesn't do shit.
Glaring at people
with that contemptuous look.
Are we now guilty
because you do nothing?
Do something.
Nobody's stopping you.
Charity's now what they call
showing off in this house.
The salvation ritual of a woman
who's never earned her living.
God knows what salvation.
What do you want her to do?
Philanthropy isn't tossing
a bone to a hungry dog.
It's sharing it
when you're just as hungry.
Everybody does what he can,
how he can. What's wrong with that?
Ask yourself what you get
from this kind of work.
You're not listening.
What's that got to do with it?
Others found what you're digging for
in that hole years ago.
Stop flogging a dead horse.
It's a waste of time.
Nothing new will come of it.
So you tell me then.
What is "new"?
You are the man of ideas, not me.
I can't teach you.
I'm interested in the universal,
even if it might not seem new.
For God's sake, Aydin.
Be realistic for once. Please.
Just this once.
Look who's talking about realism.
Dealing with art, struggling
for people's spiritual development
is alchemy, you say?
No, dear, what I'm saying is this.
If all you thinkers thought
about solving the big problems,
all this trivia you fuss about now
would solve itself in the process.
If you go up in a balloon
to see a town,
you'll incidentally see the trees,
rivers and meadows too.
But no, you focus on one tiny spot.
Lazy, cowardly, conservative.
We're in an endless cycle again.
We don't have to agree.
Why do we keep arguing?
You know what your problem is?
In order not to suffer,
you prefer to fool yourself.
Yes, that's it.
But one has to have the courage
to face the truth.
If you're looking
for something more real,
you'll have to be destructive
when necessary, dear Aydin.
But since you're an actor, you forgot
about being real, being yourself.
You jump from one personality
to another, just like a grasshopper.
But there's something called
living with yourself.
So, you want me to be realistic?
All right, listen, then.
You're a person sentenced
to loneliness and boredom for life.
Because you're a coward,
because you're lazy.
- Me?
- Yes.
You're used to living like a parasite
expecting everyone to help you.
You act as if the whole world
owes you something.
- Easy, calm down.
- I'm calm.
Whatever you do, whatever you say,
you expect indulgence.
- You think that's possible?
- That's certainly not what I want.
Where do you get such ideas?
You're not realistic yourself
without being aware of it.
- Me?
- Yes.
Wonderful.
I swear, every time
you come through that door,
I find myself praying
you won't say something irritating.
While you sit silently behind me,
I feel your gaze on my back,
seeking trouble, just to escape boredom.
My back goes numb.
I've got unsuspected powers.
It's as if somebody is rubbing
his calloused hand on my back.
I feel cold inside, I can't write.
Aydin, what are you saying?
Do you always have to be
that irritating?
- You're angry.
- Look, this drives everybody away.
No husband, no friend, nobody.
You're left all alone.
Am I wrong?
Is that realistic enough,
or shall I continue?
Yes, that was a very
personal realism. You're right.
Thinking more important than action.
There we go.
The age-old excuse
of cowards and slackers.
Are you counting on that?
Marvellous tirade.
- How are you, man?
- Hey, how are you?
I didn't know you were coming.
I invited Mr Suavi.
So I figured.
Is there a celebration?
No, we're just having a meeting.
- A meeting?
- Yes.
What's the mystery?
Is it an army council meeting?
Didn't I tell you? I did.
When?
I don't know, but I did.
You said "hmm" or something.
It was odd
that you weren't interested.
I said "hmm"? I don't remember.
Never mind.
It's nothing to do with you anyway.
As if you didn't know.
- Nihal.
- Yes?
Where exactly did you tell me?
I don't remember.
You heard,
it's none of your business!
Shall I take your coat, Mr Aydin?
Where's Necla?
In her room.
Why? Is she upset?
No. Do you want me to go and see?
No. Did she come down today?
Probably.
In what sense you ask?
Nothing. Off you go.
So?
I thought you never went out.
I don't really.
Nihal called me,
I couldn't say no.
Listen...
Don't let them fleece you.
They're insatiable.
And you can't say no.
Look at me.
Do I look that gullible?
I'm just warning you.
You're an old friend.
Don't regret it later
and take it out on me.
Fatma, could you get me a coffee?
I'll have a coffee and leave.
- Why do you have to go? Stay.
- No, I don't fancy it.
- Why don't you stay for a while?
- No, thanks.
- Welcome, Levent.
- Hello, everyone.
- How are you?
- Fine.
Give me your coat.
Teacher, where were you?
I was about to leave.
At the army office.
The commandant's wife was there.
So?
People are nice
to their wives in public.
But given the chance,
they'd stuff them in bags
and throw them in the water.
Hello. I'm Aydin, Nihal's husband.
Are you? Nice to meet you.
I'm Levent, the teacher.
- I guessed so.
- Really? How?
You come often.
I've heard about you.
I'm not sure what you're doing...
Mrs Nihal could explain it better,
but we're collecting donations
to renovate disadvantaged schools.
Since Mrs Nihal joined,
we've made a lot of progress.
- That's nice. Bravo.
- Thank you.
Friends, why don't you sit down?
Please.
Levent, what would you like to drink?
Some of your famous
coffee liquor, please.
Of course. Anyone else?
Mr Suavi?
Me too, but later.
I'll have a tea, Nihal. Thanks.
Listen, Blent.
How many local primary schools
are there?
Levent, not Blent.
There are three in the centre.
And how many pupils?
Well, we have 75...
plus 150 there.
250-300 in all. Why?
That's not many.
I thought there would be more.
Look, it's snowing!
If it goes on, it'll be difficult
to drive up the slope.
Aydin...
Can you come? There's a problem
with a light in the kitchen.
Coming.
Which one is it? This one?
Sorry, that was just an excuse
to bring you here.
Now, don't take it badly but...
I must say this is a private meeting.
So?
In this meeting,
we'll try to finalise
months of effort.
So?
I'll have to ask you
to leave us alone.
Discuss whatever you like.
Are you hiding something from me?
It's not a matter of secrecy.
But Nihal, don't you think
you're being a bit impolite?
Why "impolite"?
All I'm saying is
that this is a private meeting.
Nobody in this country
would believe it.
Men everywhere
but the husband banned.
Don't be ridiculous.
There are women inside.
And some more will come.
But with you around,
things get complicated, that's all.
You stick your nose into everything.
Just let us do things our own way.
If I organised a meeting like this
and you came in,
I'd never treat you like this.
I really don't get it.
It's beyond my understanding.
We've been working for a year now.
You never showed the slightest
interest and you show up at the end.
I'm the one who doesn't get
what you're after.
I'm not after anything.
I'd have soon got it and left anyway.
What makes me angry is your nerve
to actually tell me this.
I didn't say it in front of people.
I asked you to come here
and I'm asking you nicely.
What else can I do?
I don't know.
But I know very well that I'd never
do such a thing to you.
That's for sure.
Playing the old scenes over again.
I can't stand it.
All right, then.
Have it your way.
I'll leave, you can stay.
What's up?
- I'm leaving.
- So soon?
When you've got to go,
you've got to go.
There might be black ice.
Could be dangerous.
I don't mind.
We love danger.
Awesome.
- So where are you heading?
- We'll see.
Wherever the road takes me.
Was Hidayet downstairs?
- Yes, I checked out with him.
- No, that's not what I meant.
Do you need anything?
Food for the road?
No, thank you.
Anyway...
Fine.
Have a safe journey.
- Thank you.
- Don't forget us.
Nihal, am I disturbing you?
Don't hide it, I won't look.
I just wanted to ask something.
Then ask, Aydin.
I heard you raised funds last night.
Is that true?
Yes, we did. So what?
Why didn't you tell me?
Did I have to?
You didn't have to,
but I'd have appreciated it.
I might have wanted
to make a significant contribution.
I don't think it's a good idea.
We're doing fine on our own.
We don't need you, thanks.
Come on.
One always needs more.
After all, I'm a wealthy man.
What's more natural
than helping an educational project?
But nobody expects
anything from you.
From you neither, darling.
Yet you created a huge committee
in our house without me knowing.
Didn't you?
Listen to me, Aydin, please.
We've lived in peace
for two years,
each to his own affairs.
What's suddenly changed?
Yesterday your aim was
to humiliate me and the guests.
- Think I didn't notice?
- Me?
Never even crossed my mind.
Come on, for God's sake.
I was so angry,
I couldn't sleep last night.
If we start fighting and quarrelling
again like we used to,
then it's clear I can't stay here.
- Is that a threat?
- Why would I threaten you?
I'm just saying what could happen.
OK, say you left.
Where would you go?
Wherever I could. I don't know.
I'd go to Istanbul.
Find a job and work.
Nihal, my darling.
You haven't got tired of banging
the same old drum for years.
As if I'm keeping you here by force.
I've never stopped you, have I?
Go whenever you like.
Maybe you should. Try it.
Find a job,
with the minimum wage.
From 8 to 6.
After work, you can go on saving
the world, if you have energy left.
I'll do it if necessary.
Much better than wasting my life
living like a parasite
with an arrogant man like you.
Thanks to you,
I'm drifting in vain here.
I'm sponging off you.
I spend your money.
But I pay for it with my freedom
and my useless loyalty.
Do you know how donating even a
little of someone else's money feels?
No, I don't.
And why?
Because I've worked like a dog
all my life not to know.
I couldn't enjoy
my childhood or youth.
Too much of an easy life,
that's your trouble.
You have no idea
what gratitude means.
Besides, I'm asking you...
Stop these secret meetings
and gatherings at my house.
I only allow close acquaintances
into my house.
If that lot want to do charity work,
they should find somewhere else.
Nobody can come here yelling away
in the middle of the night.
I won't allow it.
And that bum of a teacher
doesn't give a damn.
The school needs this or that.
His real aim is to trap
bored neurotics like you.
Why don't you understand me, Nihal?
Why are you being unfair?
I swear my only intention
when I showed up
was to help you, support you.
Please leave me alone, Aydin.
I'm begging you.
Let's stay away from each other
for a while. You go or me.
Or let's break up, I don't know.
OK, why all the shouting?
I'm going anyway.
I made this decision some time ago.
I'm off to Istanbul for a while.
I have things to do for my book, too.
But I have doubts
about your donations campaign.
I find it very important.
I can't leave before sorting it out.
So please, let's just sit.
And talk calmly
like two civilised people, OK?
Come on, please.
Nihal, I'm asking you kindly.
Come and sit here.
Come on.
Nihal, will you come over here?
Nihal, darling...
It's obvious you started
such an organisation
because of your love of people
and your conscientiousness.
I'm not looking for a conspiracy.
In fact, I will support you
all the way.
Although I respect your intelligence
and your feelings,
especially your feelings,
I can't allow such a tricky business
which could cause us
big problems we can't predict now
to be ruined at the hands of you
and those rascals.
However pure your intentions.
Remember "The road to hell
is paved with good intentions."
For a start, you've no experience.
You know nothing of life.
You're too impetuous.
You are easily deceived.
You trust people instantly.
You've gathered all these
strange assistants around you.
This is very dangerous business,
Nihal.
To tell you the truth,
under these conditions, any efforts
will lead to two bad outcomes.
First, nothing gets done
for the schools.
Second, you'll lose a fortune
because of all the shoddy work.
And your name will be stained.
One can say the money
doesn't matter. I can cover it.
But what about your name, our name?
Once things get out of hand,
you can't imagine all the gossip.
They'll all accuse us
of embezzling the donations.
And you'll suddenly be all alone.
They'll all vanish.
And we'll get blamed.
Just get to the point.
My point is this.
I was glad
you were collecting donations.
But to be honest, I was worried too.
You need more than enthusiasm
in this kind of affair.
So I felt the urge to step in,
so we don't have problems
in the future.
- The urge?
- Yes.
Otherwise, I'd have gone to Istanbul.
But I can't until I sort this out.
This is a risky business, Nihal.
It's not a game.
There have been
all these fraud cases recently
and all the new laws.
Do you know them?
Get to the point.
What do you want?
I want to see
all the donations and expenditures.
And the list of your helpers.
I am sure they're trustworthy,
but better safe than sorry.
Are you serious?
Nihal, let's be reasonable, please.
Don't you trust my experience,
and my honesty?
I'm still not sure what you're after.
What could I be after?
What could I possibly be after?
I'm just trying to prevent
any problems for my family.
I have the right, don't I?
Now...
Let me see the donations
and your expenses.
It'll take me a minute
to spot any problems.
I just want to see your situation.
I have nothing to hide.
Anyone can look.
There they are, take a look.
These?
I'm sorry, but I don't understand
any of this.
Don't you have a table
showing donations?
We have the signed documents.
Nihal, dearest...
It's obvious you haven't a clue.
How is that possible?
How come you don't have a chart
showing everything at once?
You should also have a copy
of the receipts for donations.
Do you have them?
No.
For money or goods in kind,
you have to prepare
an invoice or receipt.
Have they been issued?
I don't think so.
But all this is very important.
Very important.
What if they want to deduct
the donation from taxes?
Or if they try to dodge taxes?
You'd get blamed and end up in jail.
Sorry, but these are
very important details.
Another thing. Receipts should be
numbered and listed separately.
Has that been done?
I don't think so.
Never mind. I'll start doing that,
to save you worrying.
Yes, do so.
Do as you wish.
All right.
Then let's do it like this.
Let me take this pile of books
and papers to my study.
I have some software,
I'll run them through.
I'll let you know my thoughts
once I've had a good look. OK?
Is this part of it, too?
All right.
Are you sure that's it?
If there's more, let me take it.
Take them.
Take them all.
Don't leave anything.
That was all I had left in life.
You can have them too.
Take everything I have.
Dear Nihal,
why are you talking like that?
Take them all.
Take them, they can all be yours.
Take these too.
Here.
- Take them.
- What are you doing?
Oh, my dear Nihal.
You're acting like a child.
What can I say?
When you understand
how important this is,
you'll come and thank me.
Wait and see.
Nihal, listen.
Here are all your documents back.
I didn't look at them much.
Because I've changed my mind.
I'm not going to get involved,
stick my nose in.
To tell the truth,
I felt a little bit lazy.
I have enough work already.
So, you do whatever suits you.
In the meantime, I'm leaving
tomorrow. I've decided to go.
At least till the end of winter.
The hotel's never too busy in winter.
Hidayet is here.
Tomorrow I'm going to Istanbul.
Nihal, cut it out, for God's sake!
I said I'm leaving,
what more do you want?
Your altruism
brings tears to my eyes.
Do you remember?
You once told me
that if I could change
some of my behaviour,
you would forgive me completely.
Remember?
Which means...
for you I'm guilty of something.
Therefore,
calmly and briefly,
in terms I can understand,
I ask you to tell me
what I'm guilty of.
I'm too tired, I can't talk now.
Later maybe.
What kind of guilt is that?
What have I done to you?
Is that you're young, beautiful
and would like to live your life?
I'm much older than you
and you hate me for that?
Is that my guilt?
I didn't force you to marry me.
I never restricted your freedom.
You live as you wish, independently,
in your part of the house.
You have even set up
a huge committee here.
If you want even more freedom,
it's yours.
No one's stopping you.
I mean it.
If you want a divorce,
I won't stop you either.
I don't want anything like that.
Of course, I wanted to marry you.
It's not that I'm young,
and you're old,
or I could love someone else
if I was free.
I always felt
I'm older than you anyway.
But you're an unbearable man.
You are selfish, spiteful, cynical.
That's what you're guilty of.
Possible.
Maybe I'm like that, I don't know.
At least I can admit my mistakes
from time to time.
But I've never once seen you
take the blame for anything.
Am I wrong?
If you intend to nag all night,
I should let you know,
I don't have the strength
to answer back anymore.
I don't want to nag at all.
But I have to ask again.
I need to know.
What am I guilty of?
What kind of guilt is it?
What have I done to you?
True.
You're actually a well-educated,
honest,
fair and conscientious man.
Generally you are like that.
I won't deny it.
But you sometimes use these virtues
to suffocate people,
to crush and humiliate them.
Your high principles make you
hate the whole world.
You hate believers,
because for you, believing is a sign
of underdevelopment and ignorance.
But you also hate non-believers
for their lack of faith or ideals.
You dislike the old
for being conservative bigots
and not thinking freely.
And you dislike the young
for thinking freely
and abandoning the traditions.
You defend the virtues of community.
But you suspect everyone
of being a thief or a bandit,
so you hate the people, too.
You hate practically everybody.
Just once,
I'd like you to defend something
that might cost you
and have feelings
that don't benefit yourself.
But that's not possible.
In the past, you stopped us
splitting up, using various methods.
Well, maybe it worked both ways.
I was too young to leave.
I didn't have the courage
or the money.
Or anywhere better to go.
But didn't you feel any remorse
seeing a young, healthy,
proud, lively woman
wither away
in emptiness, boredom and fear?
I felt fear in our first years.
Now I feel ashamed.
My best years have been wasted.
I shed all my good qualities
to struggle with you.
I've become tough,
coarse, timid and suspicious.
What else can I say?
I'm not even sure
I could express anything.
But our paths have now parted
even if it's under one roof.
We should each go our own way.
We could've had a better life.
But it's too late now.
You wouldn't know, but...
people like me who grew up
in villages with not even electricity,
understand the joy and pleasure
of being in a small,
warm, cosy room like this,
listening to my wife's voice,
even if she is screaming
in my face how bad I am.
Our youth was very dull, Nihal.
We didn't know how to be happy.
So we may not know
how to make others happy.
But as I said,
we had no bad intentions.
We set out with good intentions,
pure, innocent dreams.
We wanted a better life and society.
Sorry, but I don't believe you.
I've heard it all before.
You're not on stage anymore.
We all start with good intentions.
But as you said, the road to hell
is paved with good intentions.
So all this means nothing.
All these fine words
sound ridiculous to me now.
When you start talking like this,
I feel like you're pulling
trick number two to get your way.
Yet I've never understood
what you really want from me.
Even so,
I'll ask you one more time.
Whatever you call my activity,
self-deception or feminine logic,
leave me alone.
Because this is my only consolation.
I spent my entire youth
fighting with you.
Now, thanks to this work,
I believe in myself again.
I have found a meaning
to my dull life here.
A purpose that makes me feel proud.
So, at least allow me that.
Nihal, darling.
You're a good-hearted,
smart, rational, sensible woman.
Everything you say and do
is very reasonable.
It really is.
But...
not seeing a man for what he is,
idolising him like a god,
and then being mad at him,
because he's not a god.
Do you think that's fair?
I wish I were the successful,
charismatic actor you dreamed of.
But I am not.
I'm a simple man.
And what's worse,
I'd like to stay that way.
Anyway...
I'm leaving in the morning.
Don't worry, I won't be back
before spring.
But give me that list,
so I can make a small donation.
Do as you please. I don't care.
The list is there,
write what you want.
I signed it an anonymous donor.
And left the money here.
All right?
I hope things turn out
as you'd like.
Do as you want.
And don't forget I'm there
if you need any help.
But beware of that teacher.
He looked like the sneaky,
scheming type to me.
I can smell his kind a mile away.
I suggest you work with people
who are conscientious, principled
and have moral sense.
One day, you'll understand better.
Conscience. Morals.
Ideals, principles.
The purpose of life.
You're always saying these words.
The words you always use
to humiliate, hurt,
or denigrate someone.
But if you ask me...
if someone uses these words
this much,
he's the one to suspect.
Anyway, I'm tired.
I'd like to sleep,
if you don't mind.
Necla?
Go on.
Should we check again
before we set off?
I called already.
No flights,
but the trains are running.
Are you sure?
I just called them.
The train is running.
Don't worry.
Fine.
Let's get going then.
Hello.
The Istanbul train is running,
isn't it?
No problem. It's on its way.
Any delay?
Of course,
half an hour or an hour.
- Half an hour, an hour.
- That's it.
- But it's definitely coming, right?
- Probably.
OK, thank you.
- It's coming, but there's a delay...
- I heard him.
Your luggage is there.
I'll go back to the hotel
if you like.
They might need me there now.
- Should I go or stay?
- What?
They might need me at the hotel.
Should I go or wait here?
Wait.
My friend,
could you move over a bit?
It's cold by the door.
We're together.
You know, if you shift a bit.
There's a draft, I said. Sit here.
How's the road to Suavi's?
- Mr Suavi's farm?
- Yes.
It's a long way.
That's not my question.
Can the car make it?
No, it wouldn't.
The village road's impossible
in this snow.
Good, then we're going there.
Hey, what a surprise!
We were passing
and decided to return your visit.
Of course. Come in.
It's warm inside.
Come in.
- Thanks.
- This way.
- Sit down, get warmed up.
- Thanks.
I was expecting Levent.
So I thought it was him.
But with Levent, you never know
whether he'll come.
We meet every Saturday afternoon.
To go hunting
the morning after.
You know. Two bachelors.
We lean on each other
like walking sticks.
Suavi, can I stretch my leg out?
- Go ahead.
- I got cramp.
Put it up higher. That's it.
How nice.
Nice and warm.
Comfy couches.
You must be cold.
Wait, I've got just the thing.
One sip of this,
and the cold will disappear.
Let's see if you like it.
We take this with us
when we go hunting.
We put some in our flasks.
It's freezing cold out there.
The teacher is young.
Sturdy as an ox.
But I need this in my engine
to keep up.
I better not. I'm not used to it.
If you've some herb tea...
You can drink that at home.
Here, you do what I tell you.
Well, fine then. Thanks.
This is how I spoil myself.
What else is there?
We deserve it at our age.
I feel warmer now.
Thank you.
The stove is burning nicely.
I don't heat the whole house now.
After my wife died
I closed off the rooms.
I use them as storage.
And I set up this stove here.
It's like a shelter.
I curl up here.
And it helps me save a bit.
By the way,
what did you do about the letter?
What letter?
The one you read to Nihal and me.
Garip, the girl, help, and all that.
I didn't do anything.
- Teacher! You made it.
- Indeed.
Mr Aydin, nice to see you.
Thank you, Levent.
- Don't get up.
- My foot's gone numb.
If it's only numbness,
you'll be fine.
Hello.
We had business nearby,
so we popped in.
Good idea!
How bad are the roads?
Terrible. I had a hard time
getting here.
Mr Aydin, I'll be outside
if you need me.
All right.
- Hidayet.
- Yes, Mr Aydin.
Listen.
Sorry.
Listen.
Don't tell anyone at home I'm here.
Of course I won't.
So what should I tell them?
Nothing.
No, I mean if they call.
Make something up.
Nobody should know I didn't leave.
- All right.
- Be careful.
At your house, I thought,
"Finally someone worth talking to."
But then you disappeared.
Thank you.
Something came up.
I couldn't stay.
Today's my lucky day-
- Here you go.
- Thanks.
Drink up,
it makes you think clearly.
Hi. What are you up to?
Now listen.
Don't say anything
to Mrs Nihal or anyone.
You know Suavi.
We're at his farm.
He didn't go.
He changed his mind.
How should I know?
How can I ask him?
Stop talking nonsense.
Why would I lie to you?
What did you say?
Fatma, don't start again.
It's freezing. What on earth
could I be doing? Are you mad?
For God's sake.
When I was a kid,
I used to play in the garden here.
It felt life would go on like that forever,
with my mum and dad.
Where is all that now?
Sometimes I wonder what happened.
When did the house become so empty?
When did that mother's
little boy end up
a drunk, lonely old man?
I got married.
Had a child.
Where are they?
Wife in the grave,
daughter miles away...
What I'm saying is,
since there are certain things
you can't change,
you have to be a bit flexible.
Don't judge people so much.
Accept things as they are.
Is it a bit hot in here?
Should we open a window?
Of course, go ahead.
Should we move to that side too?
All right.
- You go, I'll get something.
- OK.
It's hot and I had a drink.
I'm feeling a bit drowsy.
It would've been better not to.
But it's too late now.
So, Levent, how old are you?
- Really? You don't look it.
- Well, I am.
Family?
Back in my hometown, in Yozgat.
My older sister and mother.
Ever thought of getting married?
Well...
It's fate. Didn't happen.
I haven't met the right one.
And I don't have enough money.
So I'm in no rush.
But in a place like this,
your salary would do.
It would, Mr Aydin.
But I send half to my mother.
She's saving up for my sister.
Let her get married.
She's first in line.
Then me. I'm in no rush.
How long have you been here?
This is my fourth year.
Planning to stay?
I could leave,
but you get used to a place.
And there are the things
we do with Mrs Nihal.
I want to finish them.
That's no problem.
There are always people
for that kind of thing.
You're right. There are.
I had a stammer when I was a child.
- Really?
- Yes.
I spent my entire childhood
in silence.
If I talk too much now, that's why.
So, sorry if I talk too much.
- Warn me if I do.
- Speak as much as you like.
You deserve it, my friend.
I prefer listening anyway.
Well, I warned you.
Roast chestnuts.
A sin not to eat one.
The chestnut-man is here,
gentlemen.
He's brought us split chestnuts.
Yes?
Hello.
Sorry to disturb you.
I'm here to see Hamdi hodja.
Is he in?
Just a minute.
Mrs Nihal?
- Welcome.
- Thank you.
I'm sorry. I was inside,
I couldn't... you know...
How can I help you?
I should apologise
for disturbing you so late.
No, not at all. Please.
Is this a convenient time?
Sure, of course. Come in.
Please, come in.
Don't stand in the cold.
Thank you.
Come and sit by the stove.
Don't worry, I'm fine here.
It's cold there.
Come in with your shoes.
Thanks, I won't stay long.
I'll sit here.
Well then...
How are you?
Hope nothing's wrong.
Don't get me wrong.
To see you here, alone...
I was wondering how Ilyas was.
He worried us a lot the other day.
Actually we heard, but I still wanted
to come for a visit.
Ilyas is much better now.
Thank God, he's fine now.
His fever dropped, too.
That worried us but since yesterday,
he's opened his eyes.
The only thing, he couldn't go
to school and he gets bored at home.
Otherwise, he's fine.
It's not easy.
I was worried when I heard
it was pneumonia.
But his mother has taken
good care of him.
And he took his medicine
and got better. Good boy.
You're right.
Thank you.
Mr Aydin isn't with you?
No, I came alone.
Really? Welcome, again.
You must be cold,
it's freezing outside.
Let's have some tea. Sevda!
I'll go to the kitchen.
- Don't bother.
- No, my pleasure.
Are you studying?
Huh?
Yes.
- Which subject?
- Maths.
Do you like maths?
Yes.
What will you become then?
An engineer?
No.
What then?
A policeman.
Why's that?
Good evening, madam.
Good evening. And who are you?
Mother, Mrs Nihal
is our landlord's wife.
Did she bring the TV back?
No, mother.
That's a different matter.
Come, mother.
I want my TV back.
I watched the Imam.
Mrs Nihal is here for something else.
To wish Ilyas a speedy recovery.
- Sore knees?
- Aching.
- Let's cover them.
- No, I don't want to.
- All right.
- You don't take me to the doctor.
Mother, you're disgracing us
in front of Mrs Nihal.
- You refused to go, remember?
- Too crowded.
They can't look after me there.
I need a private doctor.
But please...
I said to go to a private doctor too.
You refused to go to our Samet.
You remember
what his mother did to me?
But the son isn't the mother.
The doctor has to come.
OK then,
I'll bring the doctor right here.
He'll take care of my mother here.
Sevda, give me my prayer beads.
I apologise.
No problem.
When young, we're tested for our
respect and later, our compassion.
God bless our elders.
"If youngsters could know,
if elders could do."
I don't want to keep you longer.
I need to talk to you.
Of course, please.
If you don't mind,
could we speak in private?
Of course, why not?
We could go in there,
but it might be a bit cold.
Fine, it doesn't matter.
Let's go in. Sevda!
Put some wood on the stove.
I'll bring your tea through.
- Thank you.
- Please.
How many rooms are there?
There used to be two.
Then we added this one.
We got permission
from Mr Aydin's father, Mr Sami.
So now, we have three rooms.
This is my room.
It gets a bit colder
than the other rooms.
But we built a fireplace
for when it gets very cold.
Fortunately, not this year.
That's right.
Mr Hamdi, I'd like to ask you
something, please.
Please do.
Mr Ismail, your younger brother...
- Older brother.
- Sorry.
What exactly does he do?
He hasn't worked for some time.
He used to work at the mine in Tozlu.
But unfortunately,
he got into some trouble.
He was in prison for six months.
And hasn't worked since.
If you don't mind me asking,
why was he jailed?
What did he do?
God knows, this is very embarrassing.
I'd rather you didn't
know us like this.
But I won't hide something
known to God.
Everyone probably knows anyway.
A few louts in town
were pestering his wife Sevda.
We only found this out later.
One night a loud noise woke us.
Ismail had stormed out of bed,
to chase someone in the street.
I'm ashamed to say,
they were stealing
Sevda's underwear off the line.
Ismail couldn't catch anybody.
But he took it out on Sevda.
The poor girl didn't even know.
Next day, in the market,
a few of the louts laughed at Ismail.
Ismail pulled out a knife
and stabbed one of them.
That's why he served
six months in jail.
Well, Ismail was always wild.
He was never really close to anyone.
But when he got out, he became
even more suspicious and wild.
He even stopped speaking to people.
And then they fired him.
He became more introverted
and started drinking.
He doesn't drink at home though.
So he's not working now.
We had to pay for the guy's operation
and compensation.
And our debts grew.
With only my salary,
and Ismail not working,
it got difficult.
We couldn't pay the rent.
Mr Aydin is right, of course.
We couldn't pay for a few months,
causing him problems.
But hopefully,
I'll find a second job.
I understand.
I hope it all works out.
I actually came to talk
about something related.
I won't take too much of your time.
It's already late.
Please take this and accept it.
What is this?
Open it.
What is this, Mrs Nihal?
Please don't misunderstand.
I want to give you this money.
Please take it.
Yes, but... I don't understand.
I mean, what is it for?
Why did you bring it to us?
Don't worry.
I don't want anything in return.
And I don't expect you
to pay it back.
Think of it as help from a friend,
and please accept it.
I'm terribly sorry, Mrs Nihal.
I really don't know what to say.
But this is a huge amount of money.
How can I accept this?
There's enough to buy a house.
- What would people think?
- Mr Hamdi.
No one needs to know.
This can stay between you and me.
Welcome.
Thank you.
- Sorry for disturbing you so late.
- Not at all.
Mrs Nihal is Mr Aydin's wife,
our landlord...
I know. They just told me.
What's up?
Ismail, why don't you
come and sit down?
Come, have a seat.
Mrs Nihal was worried about Ilyas.
She came to wish him good health.
That's why she came.
What's this?
Mrs Nihal brought that money
to give us.
Very kind of her.
For what reason?
Please don't get me wrong.
No special reason.
I thought you might need it, and so
you could get your stuff back.
What does Mr Aydin say about it?
He doesn't know.
He doesn't need to know, either.
Good.
But all this money...
isn't it a bit too much?
On what basis?
What made you think of this much?
- Look, I didn't think anything.
- Sorry.
I apologise. He's surprised, too.
Ismael, why not go
and wash your face or something?
No need.
Then I'll get you a coffee.
You better have one.
Mrs Nihal,
let me get you another tea.
This one has gone cold.
- Don't bother.
- Please.
Sevda.
Now...
Let's see...
if the math is right.
Now if this amount is...
for little Ilyas who risked his life
to mend his father's broken pride.
And if this is...
for self-sacrificing brother Hamdi
who had to go hand-kissing
because he looks after five people.
And if this is
for the drunkard father Ismail
who got beaten up in front of his son
disgracing himself and his family...
There's still some left.
If that is for our heroine Mrs Nihal
who tries to ease her conscience
by doling out charity
to those less fortunate than her...
then this money is just enough.
You got the sums right.
A truly kind thought, but...
you forgot something,
Mrs Nihal.
The person in front of you
is a filthy drunkard
incapable of appreciating
all your kindness.
I'm now looking at these.
I'm looking.
And I'm thinking,
man, this isn't a life.
It's a fire scene in a stage act.
No fucking life, it's something else.
- True, very true.
- Am I wrong?
Right.
We have to stand straight.
We'll keep standing,
standing upright.
We'll say, "Come on, hit me here.
Hit me here."
We'll stand straight as befits a man.
We won't bend, cry.
Won't sob like a baby.
Stand upright.
That's what befits us, Mr Aydin.
There are certain moral values
and beliefs today.
They derived from religions,
which have already been rejected
by many people in the world.
If I reject the basis of such values,
why live a life based on them?
Our life would be a lie then.
Either support the foundation
of these values
or consolidate or create new ones.
Suavi, my brother,
then you'll have to create them.
- It's great if you can create, mate.
- But listen.
We want to live life to the full
but other people
can criticise you for that.
You clash, you collide with them
when your paths cross.
But curious, innovative people
with strong personalities do it different.
Oddly enough,
this conflict nourishes them.
In a way, it stretches them.
Conflicts expand their minds
and feed their creativity.
Now when I look at them,
they ignore the critics
because they have courage.
That's the way we should be.
They could come to us and say,
"You drink all that wine,
stuff your faces,
"then talk about helping
the schools of the poor."
I say we should ignore it
and move forward.
For example, after the earthquake,
six years ago,
when you didn't open
your hotel to victims
but to aid organisations,
maybe to line your pockets...
I mean that's what
some people might think.
That's quite interesting,
what he says.
Or they might reproach you
for being well-heeled.
- They might.
- Hold on.
Just a minute.
What's that got to do with it?
How did you bring this up?
I'm giving an example.
Are you trying to imply something?
If we didn't allow victims in,
there was obviously a good reason.
It's easy to make unfounded
allegations, with no knowledge.
Hundreds of people came from abroad.
Where were they supposed to stay?
Where were they to stay?
Who was supposed to save people
under the rubble?
- I didn't deny that...
- Nobody thinks about that.
It was just an example.
Come on, these judgments you make
don't suit you, Mr Blent.
- Who's judging? I was saying...
- That's no good.
I maybe didn't express myself right.
I meant something else.
- Levent, you said it wrong.
- I didn't.
There is some truth in what you said,
but you expressed it badly.
I'm just saying these people exist...
What's your example
got to do with my case?
I just said
people could talk like that.
And another thing, hold on.
I'm saying the same thing.
There's no counting the donations
I've made over the years.
Great, but I'm saying...
Only yesterday,
I donated a huge sum to charity.
How about that?
And all these years
I have always kept my name a secret.
- He's right.
- Bravo.
I'm not criticising.
He just couldn't express himself.
But I still can't get rid of
the sarcasm and snide remarks.
Is it fair,
just because we've got money?
All I'm saying is
there are people like that.
They exist. God damn them.
I'd say God damn them too, but...
judging like that is unacceptable
before understanding all this.
I failed to express myself.
I call for some morality,
some conscience, please.
Speak up, son.
Tell him you put it wrong.
What's that got to do with it?
It's irrelevant.
It's not what he meant.
I don't see what it's got to do
with morality and conscience.
No, I can't accept such a judgment.
Implicating him is a problem.
Look, I've been silent for 15 years.
My words come out before my thoughts.
If I had shut up...
Is it fair to accuse me
just because we have a few bucks?
Did I create this world?
That's how the system is.
This is how God created it.
What can I do about it?
Justice doesn't even exist in nature.
So why should it exist here?
- Their talk is wrong.
- Are we meant to feel guilty?
I'm saying the same thing but...
you jumped on
morality and conscience.
- I failed to express myself.
- He couldn't.
Couldn't express himself properly.
You got carried away, son.
You actually said nice things too.
Everything has a logic.
- He's right.
- Just like that.
Whatever.
We wined and dined.
Let me get up, brother.
I haven't slept for two days.
OK. I'll give you a blanket.
Come along.
You do that.
This drunkard must now shut up
or he'll keep rattling like a tin.
I wasn't going to talk though.
But before I leave...
this is your field, Mr Aydin...
Not at all.
I would like to quote Shakespeare,
by way of a conclusion.
"Conscience
"is but a word that cowards use
"devised at first
to keep the strong in awe.
"Our strong arms be our conscience,
"swords our law."
Good night.
Hold on, hold on.
Allow me to contribute
the following lines to this meeting.
As a reply-
Our infallible fate
is to be deceived
in everything we attempt.
I make brilliant plans
each morning...
and fool about all day.
There you go.
You've pulled your trick again.
Are you all right?
Let it out, relax.
- Let it go.
- So sorry.
- Go on, let it all out.
- Oh my.
Sorry, I've made a real mess.
No problem.
Leave it, come on.
- I'm sorry.
- Let's go out.
Plenty of fine fresh air outside.
And snow. You'll be fine.
Come on, my friend, come with me.
Easy. Don't force yourself.
Come on.
- I'm sorry.
- Let's go.
I'll lay you down here. Come on.
Let's walk over there,
then we're done.
He must be light, he's not sinking.
- Stop here.
- What is it?
Stop, stop.
I'm worried it won't move again.
- Reverse a bit.
- What?
Go back.
Stop.
What is it, Mr Aydin?
Nothing. Let's go.
Fatma!
Nihal.
I didn't go away.
I couldn't.
Whether it's because I've grown old,
or I've gone mad,
or because I've become
a different man,
think what you like.
I just don't know.
But this new man inside me
for a few days won't let me go away.
Please, don't ask me to go either.
I now understand
nothing is calling me to Istanbul.
Everything is alien to me there,
as it is everywhere else.
I want you to know
that I have no one but you.
And I miss you every minute,
every second that goes by.
But my pride
will never let me tell you this.
I know very well how terrible
or impossible it would be
to part from you.
Just as I know
that you do not love me anymore.
I know we can't go back
to the old days.
And there is no need to.
Take me with you like a servant,
like a slave.
And let us continue our life,
even if we do it your way.
Forgive me.
HISTORY OF TURKISH THEATRE
Published 27/03/2015