Winter Sleep is a long movie. At three hours and 15 minutes, this film will make you actually look at your clock before hitting play. It won Palm d'Or at Cannes and I had no idea of any of this until I saw it on Netflix this week. There's a lot of substance to this movie and a great deal can be said and debated philosophically. I'll just stick to what really stood out for me.
The Disconnect Between Classes
Aydin, the protagonist of the movie, is a wealthy man, well educated and, in kid mind, generous and kind to those around him. What becomes apparent early on in the film is that he is also detached from the practical ongoings of his estate. His property is rented out and managed by lawyers and helpers, he does not know his own tenants, and he's oblivious to the issues they are having.
When a kid breaks his car window with a stone, he's shocked and surprised. He does not realize that debt collectors and the police had a conflict with the kid's father, that the father has no job, and that they live of one person's wage. If this were a more predictable film, you would expect Aydin to realize these details. It doesn't happen! In fact, the only way Aydin tries to help the less fortunate is by donating a great sum of money to the charity his wife, Nihal, is organizing.
This same disconnect is present in my own life, and likely in the life of many of the people around me in the same social class and age group. Our idea of helping the less fortunate is donating to charity once a year or jumping on some online viral bandwagon every so often. And do we really do it to help, or do we do it to help ourselves feel good?
Just like Aydin writes a weekly column in the local paper, so do we write our blogs and Tweets and Facebook posts preaching whats's right and showing off our opinions and moral stances. But in the end, how many of us actually take action or speak from experience rather than simply from philosophical realms?
The Physical Separation
What is captivating about the movie from the get-go is the setting. It's filmed in Cappadocia, Anatolia, a region of Turkey. The landscape and the homes are truly unique. Aydin lives with his wife and sister in a hotel they own. This hotel is built into the mountain, in a way, and it has the feeling of a castle. Aydin is like a kind ruler, and this castle is separating him from the rest of the people, adding to the idea of disconnect.
While he sees himself as a sort of benevolent ruler, we quickly see that practically nobody feel this way about him and he's actually disliked even by his own family. His helper runs all errands, and the ruler sits oblivious in his tower. His sister challenges his moral standpoint on the notion of evil; his wife feels like a prisoner with no purpose in life; his subjects despise him behind his back.
This separation does not happen only in remote regions. This separation is a daily reality in the society we live in. Very few people live in communities where they interact with their neighbours, or even with their own family. People are separated by vast geographical distances, going far from home in search of materialistic gains. And even those who stay close often just shut themselves in, watching Netflix all day or spending hours on their smart phones. Aydin fails to see past the his own mountain fortress. We fail to see past our computer screens.
Making the Best of What You Have
Sad ideas aside, there is a sense of redemption buried somewhere in the snow. Aydin claims he worked all his life, and it is only in his old age that he's as wealthy as we see him. Maybe it's unfair to judge him so harshly. Maybe he was not really meant to be a ruler and his detachment is a byproduct of his lack of interest and his moral high ground. He used to be an actor and his current goal is to write a book on the history of Turkish theater. That's not so wrong, is it? A quiet life on top of a mountain, removed from the problems of the village? Isn't that what many of us want after a life of work?
And what about the tenants who failed to pay rent for many months? If they lived in Canada, they would have been kicked out a long time ago! It's clear that even though the people around Aydin are unhappy, he's actually content with his station in life. He tells Nihal that he still realizes the value of having a warm room and a roof over his head, while she talks about doing greater things in life. I couldn't help but agree with Aydin: we often forget what we have and, like Nihal, we get stressed with wanting more and more from life. A simple shift in focus could make us happy: just focus on what you have and consider that billions of others would give anything to have a full fridge, a warm house, and people who love them.
There: I tried to end it on a more positive note! Hope you will watch this long but rewarding movie! Thank you for reading.
The Disconnect Between Classes
Aydin, the protagonist of the movie, is a wealthy man, well educated and, in kid mind, generous and kind to those around him. What becomes apparent early on in the film is that he is also detached from the practical ongoings of his estate. His property is rented out and managed by lawyers and helpers, he does not know his own tenants, and he's oblivious to the issues they are having.
When a kid breaks his car window with a stone, he's shocked and surprised. He does not realize that debt collectors and the police had a conflict with the kid's father, that the father has no job, and that they live of one person's wage. If this were a more predictable film, you would expect Aydin to realize these details. It doesn't happen! In fact, the only way Aydin tries to help the less fortunate is by donating a great sum of money to the charity his wife, Nihal, is organizing.
This same disconnect is present in my own life, and likely in the life of many of the people around me in the same social class and age group. Our idea of helping the less fortunate is donating to charity once a year or jumping on some online viral bandwagon every so often. And do we really do it to help, or do we do it to help ourselves feel good?
Just like Aydin writes a weekly column in the local paper, so do we write our blogs and Tweets and Facebook posts preaching whats's right and showing off our opinions and moral stances. But in the end, how many of us actually take action or speak from experience rather than simply from philosophical realms?
The Physical Separation
What is captivating about the movie from the get-go is the setting. It's filmed in Cappadocia, Anatolia, a region of Turkey. The landscape and the homes are truly unique. Aydin lives with his wife and sister in a hotel they own. This hotel is built into the mountain, in a way, and it has the feeling of a castle. Aydin is like a kind ruler, and this castle is separating him from the rest of the people, adding to the idea of disconnect.
While he sees himself as a sort of benevolent ruler, we quickly see that practically nobody feel this way about him and he's actually disliked even by his own family. His helper runs all errands, and the ruler sits oblivious in his tower. His sister challenges his moral standpoint on the notion of evil; his wife feels like a prisoner with no purpose in life; his subjects despise him behind his back.
This separation does not happen only in remote regions. This separation is a daily reality in the society we live in. Very few people live in communities where they interact with their neighbours, or even with their own family. People are separated by vast geographical distances, going far from home in search of materialistic gains. And even those who stay close often just shut themselves in, watching Netflix all day or spending hours on their smart phones. Aydin fails to see past the his own mountain fortress. We fail to see past our computer screens.
Making the Best of What You Have
Sad ideas aside, there is a sense of redemption buried somewhere in the snow. Aydin claims he worked all his life, and it is only in his old age that he's as wealthy as we see him. Maybe it's unfair to judge him so harshly. Maybe he was not really meant to be a ruler and his detachment is a byproduct of his lack of interest and his moral high ground. He used to be an actor and his current goal is to write a book on the history of Turkish theater. That's not so wrong, is it? A quiet life on top of a mountain, removed from the problems of the village? Isn't that what many of us want after a life of work?
And what about the tenants who failed to pay rent for many months? If they lived in Canada, they would have been kicked out a long time ago! It's clear that even though the people around Aydin are unhappy, he's actually content with his station in life. He tells Nihal that he still realizes the value of having a warm room and a roof over his head, while she talks about doing greater things in life. I couldn't help but agree with Aydin: we often forget what we have and, like Nihal, we get stressed with wanting more and more from life. A simple shift in focus could make us happy: just focus on what you have and consider that billions of others would give anything to have a full fridge, a warm house, and people who love them.
There: I tried to end it on a more positive note! Hope you will watch this long but rewarding movie! Thank you for reading.