Winter Sleep, directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan
Winter Sleep, directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan

Winner of the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, Winter Sleep is more evidence that nobody does dialogue quite like Nuri Bilge Ceylan.

His 2012 masterpiece, Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, painted a bleak and complicated picture of a police investigation set on the barren plains of the Anatolian steppe. Following a body search that spreads over the course of a dismal evening and deep into the night, it’s about conversation and characters, with action – as we know it – placed firmly on the backburner. It’s a disturbing and quietly riveting work that flashes a bright light on all manner of human interactions, not least with the self.

Winter Sleep is similar in style and just as ambitious in theme. In fact, its representation of relationships is as thorough and accurate as anything you’re likely to see on film.

Ceylan presents retired actor and prosperous landlord Mr Aydin, a fat fish in small pond. He’s got a conscience, a kind face and a vicious temper – but that’s not to say he’s violent. He’s irresponsibly hands off with his tenants, wildly egotistical and is in perpetual conflict with charity. He’s proud, self righteous and entirely real.

His wife, Nihal, is worn out and disillusioned. She wants independence and longs to do something good. Working closely with a teacher – who, amidst a late-night haze of drunken chat, delivers the film’s finest moment – she finds solace in a fundraising project aimed at improving education in the region. Laughed at by her patronizing and controlling husband, who just can’t resist interfering, she flirts with notions of escape from her wintery mountaintop tower.

We also follow the story of a local imam facing eviction at the hands of Aydin. He’s already lost his TV, plus no little dignity, during the dispute, but continues to work tirelessly to mend the strained relations. His troubles, you feel, could be easily resolved if not for the fact that his proprietor is utterly and unreasonably repulsed by him.

Driven by captivating fire-lit discussions, with key characters sparring furiously for exhaustingly long sequences, Winter Sleep offers an uncommonly rigorous portrayal of those concerned. Ceylan’s acute attention to detail never fails to show you something of yourself and those around you, while the photography is predictably stunning – the scenes with horses will leave you breathless. It’s a film of nothing and everything, with limited discernible direction – for good reason – and loose ends left flailing.

There’s also a lot Shakespearean about this drama of a stony king tending his tired and foggy kingdom. As well as generous use of pathetic fallacy, it’s long, demanding and ridiculously rewarding. Ceylan has cemented his place amongst the world’s finest directors.