Review of Winter Sleep (2014) by Ulbrecht T — 10 May 2015

3 1/2 hours of dialogue probably sounds unbearable to most anyone these days, but Winter Sleep's writing is so damn riveting that the experience actually ends up feeling too short by its end. Each conversation is an epic in itself, some lasting nearly 30 minutes, all of which are complete with their very own arc, and packed with unrelenting tension. I had almost forgotten how suspenseful dialogue on its own can be.

Action in movies is a little overrated these days, and often just plain stupid, an insult by big-budget industries who have zero confidence in your ability to think anymore. I'll take the risk of sounding like a pretentious jerk by saying that, as viewers, we've forgotten that a movie doesn't need to be preposterous (e.g., giant robots destroying Manhattan, 5+ superheros in one movie, etc) to be enthralling. Hold on, because superheros and giant robots definitely have a place in cinema, and those sorts of movies can be loads of fun. I guess my point is that what really counts at the end of the day, no matter what's happening on screen, is whether a movie can keep its audience in suspense, grip us with a genuine feeling of urgency, and imbue a sense of absolute necessity to all of its events. Spectacle is great, but we're beginning to forget how engaging drama can be. Winter Sleep is astounding because, despite its inaction, it is rife with tension in every scene.

The origin of film belongs just as much to language as it does image, so it shouldn't be surprising that a character-driven drama can be very suspenseful. Let's take a modern example, a mainstream, yet also mostly favorably critiqued director: Quentin Tarentino. Words have enormous weight in his films, and they grip just as tightly as his use of imagery or action. Despite the fact that characters might just be sitting in chairs or standing in hallways, while merely talking, the suspense is electric, and it never lets go. The tension, the awkwardness, the pain-all the emotions exchanged between characters-they hit with a frightening realness, a palpability primarily known to life yet perfectly communicable through film, just as long as a screenwriter is willing to put in the hard work beforehand.

Similarly, Winter Sleep has a kind of rhythm and elastic snap to its dialogue that is retained throughout the entire film. The script is really damn wonderful, and yet, as much as the movie may consist of talking, it never quite seems like a filmed play: it's just as cinematic as it is talky. Each character feels singularly powerful in their own way, god-like before the camera, if anything just because of how incredibly REAL they feel. These actors are convincing: every sigh, tear, or bout of a laughter mandates your empathy, your love.

What we have here is a beautifully photographed, sharply written film about marriage, morality, wealth and poverty, and the mysteries of aging into an uncertain future. The plot concerns a retired theatre actor, Aydin, who runs a small hotel with his beautiful younger wife. It doesn't take long to see how flawed these characters are, and this is where the entertainment ultimately resides. I don't want to say much more about the story, but within 15 minutes Winter Sleep will have you.

Yes, these kind of movies take patience, and some dialogue-driven films can be just plain boring; but Winter Sleep blew me away, and it supplied such genuine suspense, the kind that has been missing from the drama genre these days.