Tenth feature film by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Dried herbs is perhaps his most successful, which is saying something. Winner of the Palme d’Or for his previous Winter Sleep, the Turkish filmmaker offers here another of these flowing reflections on the human condition of which he has the secret. Over three hours, with the steppes of the Anatolian peninsula that the director is so fond of as a backdrop, various existential hazards are explored. A man less misanthropic than he likes to believe is the protagonist.
His name is Samet (excellent Deniz Celiloğlu), and he teaches drawing in an isolated village where winter reigns two thirds of the year. Originally from Istanbul, Samet is carrying out his compulsory civil service in these regions and he barely conceals his desire to be transferred, sooner rather than later, anywhere else.
But then, upon returning from leave, two students alleged that Samet and his colleague Kenan had made inappropriate gestures. Although he and Kenan are quickly cleared, Samet is no longer the same afterward: something has broken inside him. In class, he is obnoxious.
However, when Samet meets Nuray, a teacher in a neighboring town, his eyes surreptitiously revive, like his heart, which cautiously begins to beat again. Alas, Nuray seems interested in the more jovial Kenan…
Social drama, Dried herbs thus moves on to the sentimental drama, then to the study of morals… Throughout, the focus remains on Samet. Samet who, under his new armor of protective cynicism, may deep down have not really changed despite events.
In this regard, the carefully composed photos he takes of the villagers contradict the supposed indifference, even the supposed contempt, that the teacher has for them. These photos prove on the contrary that, despite everything he says, Samet is touched by these “potato farmers”, to use his expression, whom he tries so hard to reject.
From the room, we can see a metaphor of the filmmaker implicitly declaring his love for this desolate territory. Indeed, Nuri Bilge Ceylan also takes care of each shot, like his disenchanted hero (a short metanarrative passage where Samet suddenly finds himself in the studio where the film’s sets are built reinforces this reading).
Of all the secondary characters, Sevim, one of the two accusing students and initially Samet’s pet, turns out to be the most opaque. In the eyes of Samet, whose unique point of view the film adopts, Sevim is mysterious as much in her way of being as in her motivations (see all these poetic shots of the young girl).
With her eloquence and transparency, Nuray proves herself the antithesis of Sevim, and the dark Samet is drawn to her like a planet to a sun.
Meditative languor
Over its 197 minutes, Dried herbs unfolds with a meditative, almost hypnotic languor, characteristic of the director of the films Once upon a time in Anatolia And The wild pear tree. As always, therefore, patience is required, but rewarded.
Among the highlights, let us note this lively discussion between Samet and Nuray, during a tête-à-tête. The second puts the first in his place with verve, seeing through the frustrations and grievances of the one who nevertheless moves him. Because in his “praise of a rationalized individualism”, as Nuray calls it, Samet seems above all to seek to convince himself. Deep down, he doesn’t care about other people, and that’s his tragedy.
In the role of Nuray, this woman who was deprived of a leg by an attack, Merve Dizdar, winner of the Best Actress Prize at Cannes, exudes presence and charisma: two qualities which make the simultaneous infatuation of Samet and by Kenan.
When we reach the end, we understand that Dried herbs is in the image of its antihero: beneath a placid surface there are many swirls.