Edge of Heaven leaves audience feeling on edge

By Brian Reinhart     9/11/08 7:00pm

The Edge of Heaven is a film in which very few things happen, and many things fail to happen, all in a quiet, heartbreaking way. It is a drama concerning three families thrown together by chance and tragedy, across three languages and two continents. This German-Turkish production reflects on basic ideas of mortality and resilience through the lives of very disparate characters.One is Ali Aksu (Tuncel Kurtiz), a dapper old Turkish gentleman who lives in Germany and whose main concerns are betting on horses and sleeping with whores. The first third of the film deals with Ali's relationship with a Turkish prostitute, whom he ends up inviting to live with him. His conversations with his son, Nejat Aksu (Baki Davrak), are largely concerned with sexual matters as well. "Who are you screwing these days?" Ali asks Nejat in a rare moment of family bonding.

Eventually the lives of these two characters become intertwined with those of the prostitute, her estranged daughter Ayten (Nurgül Ye?ilcay) and others. The plot is nearly impossible to describe in simple terms, but it unfolds primarily in the form of journeys from Istanbul to Bremen and back.

Along the way, many of the characters attempt to "find themselves" or seek some sort of redemption for past and present wrongs. Some of the journeys are made in airline seats, and some are made in coffins.

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Much of what makes Heaven a successful movie is its atmosphere and the contrasting worlds in which the characters live. From the precisely punctual trains of Hamburg to the anarchic, dangerous back streets of Istanbul, this movie has an engrossing sense of place. The Turkish scenes, filmed on location in various parts of the country, are gritty and beautiful, often at the same time.

The Edge of Heaven tries to capture the slow-burning intensity of the characters' lives, opting for close camera work and slow pacing. The screenplay is excellent and often touching. Near the end of the film, Nejat is prompted to reconcile with his father after remembering hearing him tell the story of Abraham's sacrifice. "I asked him," recalls Nejat, "'Would you sacrifice me, Papa?' And he said, 'Even if I made God my enemy, I would protect you.'"

The screenplay's masterstroke is the use of language in the movie. Nearly every character is multilingual and chooses German, Turkish or English for very specific reasons. Thus, when Ali and Nejat are having a friendlier chat, they speak in Turkish, but they do their arguing in German. The Turkish prostitute does her business in German, but her daughter, Ayten, conducts a lesbian love affair in English. This sort of jumping among languages is very rare in Hollywood movies, and here it serves to give deeper meaning and insight into the characters' relationships.

Towards the end of the movie, improbabilities begin to seep into the plot, as do actions on the parts of certain characters that stretch credibility. There are scenes in which the director appears simply to have been stalling, as if he did not want the movie to be over. As The Edge of Heaven passes the two-hour mark, more than a few scenes walk the line between moody and dull.

Ultimately, there is little resolution to the movie's various plots. Ayten never learns about her mother's fate, for example, and we see Ali for only a few brief moments after his return to Turkey. The incomplete feeling of the movie's ending only adds to its pathos. I do not think any of the film's central characters ever really come to understand how their lives are connected.

Of course, one may argue that life itself is never likely to resolve in a satisfying way, and the movie's ending is therefore the ultimate triumph of its harshly realistic style. The final scene is riveting: at the screening I attended, every single member of the audience remained seated until the last line of credits had rolled by. There are few stronger testaments to a film's power.

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