This film is a crying scene of three men (one is still a little boy), and a family drama of three generations of grandparents. A bitter drama like a mother in prison), it's nothing more than that. But the success of this film lies in its indistinct background, which gives the film a natural bloodline and the reality of the separation of flesh and blood.
The first man, he was a retreating peasant who, though ignorant of his possibly glorious past, understood his fear of the city, of politics.
The second man, a progressive intellectual, embraced the most loyal revolutionary ideal, but was ruthlessly adjusted by reality and left the world with no understanding.
The third man, he is a child who can only dream, but he knows that no matter how beautiful he is, enemies are always around, and dreams will eventually wake up. Dreaming is not the best, never the worst.
I believe that these three men face the childlike powerlessness of reality, they cannot control the world, and they are destined to fail to grasp their dreams. The unilateral pursuit of the ultimate gain can only be a tragedy.
However, the ending of the story is thriving, because a good film does not make people depressed, it only makes people think.
I really appreciate the director's ability to handle the shots. The simple and down-to-earth rural life is so fascinating. It has both the romance of the French, the unrestrainedness of the Spaniards, and the laughter of the oriental family. No one can resist. This made me fascinated by the Turkish nation, what a firm, outstanding and energetic nation it is!
Continuing the discussion, the wordy words could not stop, thinking of Pamuk, and thinking of too many artistic treasures of this nation. Without hesitation, start rummaging through the history of the Ottoman Empire.
View more about My Father and My Son reviews
