
Though more of the wiry than burly type, Yakup is definitely a manly outdoorsman. Yet, he has forged a remarkably close bond with his sensitive young son that sometimes even undermines Yusuf’s relationship with his mother. Painfully shy, Yusuf is only able to speak without his stammer when with his father. Unfortunately, the thinning black bee populations require Yaksup to set his hives at greater heights in ever more remote areas of the forest. One night, Yakup fails to come home as expected. Thus begins a long painful waiting ritual for Yusuf and his mother.
Arguably, that is Bal in a honeycomb, but for Kaplanoglu, it is the experience that counts, rather than a neatly stair-stepped plot outline. Shot in the mountainous northeast Rize province, Bal captures a side of Turkey’s natural beauty rarely seen on film. His forest shares a kinship with that of Twin Peaks, palpably mysterious, and perhaps a bit menacing as well. In fact, he uses the suggestive setting to create an expectation of a third act foray into magical realism that never really materializes.
By any objective measure, Bal is a simple, quiet work. However, those same qualities also give the film a tactile impressionism. Bora Altas’s honest, unaffected performance as Yusuf also helps maintain

As uncompromising as Bal might be, it always looks stunning, thanks to Baris Özbiçer’s museum-quality cinematography. Still, there is no getting around the exclusive nature of Bal’s appeal. This represents the most rarified of high-end art-house cinema. Hats off to Olive Films for sticking their necks out with releases such as this and Veiko Õunpuu’s The Temptation of St. Tony. Artful but demanding, Bal opens this Friday (3/25) at the Village East.