I guess if I were looking at this movie the 'right' way, Aydin (Haluk Bilginer) would be the bad guy of the piece. He had the temerity to expect payment of rent from long delinquent tenants, he and friend Hidayet (Ayberk Pekcan) returned a young boy to his home after the kid threw a rock at their car breaking a window, he tried to reason with his wife Nihal (Melisa Sözen) over being excluded from a meeting in his own home regarding her charitable work, and endured a long conversation with his divorced sister Necla (Demet Akbag),who admitted that she had never seen any of the plays he had written.

The crux of the story seemed to rest in Aydin's relationship with his wife in a marriage that had hit an impasse after many years. She stated that he was selfish, spiteful and cynical, and maybe he was, but the story didn't really seem to lay out those qualities in the man. What it did seem to reveal was Aydin's compulsion to insert himself in Nihal's charitable work against her will, but at the same time, she appeared to be entirely secretive about it, enough to raise some kind of suspicion.

And then there was the business about the burning money. I'm not sure why Ismail (Nejat Isler) would have considered it an insult, but he only added to the affront by destroying what was offered in good faith. If he was that perturbed about accepting charity, he could have used it to pay the rent he owed Nihal's husband, and used the experience to help him get back on his feet again.

So maybe for this viewer, there's some sort of cultural divide that clouds my understanding of what director Nuri Bilge Ceylan was trying to achieve here. I can say that the effort was made somewhat compelling with the distinctive photography amid a rather harsh landscape. But all too often, I was left frustrated by a host of characters always attempting to sort things out without ever doing so. Maybe my problem is that I relate to the character of Aydin so much that I don't see the faults that other viewers do. Be that as it may, my opinion of the picture doesn't extend to other Turkish films, as I found both "The Bandit" and "My Father and My Son" to be more accessible in terms of understanding what those pictures were trying to say.

Reasonably engaging but slow and seemingly interminable.

A man, Aydin (played by Haluk Bilginer) and his wife run a small hotel in a small village in central Anatolia, Turkey. The movie examines the relationships between Aydin and some of the other people in the village, and how these relationships change.

Fairly engaging - you do feel for Aydin in his various predicaments. However, the movie is ponderously slow and, at over three hours, incredibly long. This tests your commitment and engagement, and ultimately the movie is quite dull.

Is it too much to ask to move things along at something other than snail's pace, and to wrap it up quicker?

Greetings again from the darkness. Brace yourself for 3 hours and 19 minutes of heavy listening. Yes, the film was named Palme d'Or at the most recent Cannes, and the dialogue is exceptionally well written, but this isn't one you can just kick back and enjoy. It requires some effort. The two big "action" sequences involve a 10 year old boy tossing a rock and later, his too proud father dropping something into a fireplace. The real action occurs between the ears of the viewer as we assimilate the moods and nuances and double-meanings that accompany the stream of conversations.

Award-winning director Nuri Bilge Ceylan co-wrote the script with his wife Ebru Ceylan, and that probably attributes to the sharpness and poignancy of the relationships between Aydin (Haluk Bilginer) and his wife Nihal (Melisa Sozen) and his sister Necla (Demet Akbag). Much of the film is devoted to one of two things: Aydin making himself feel important, or Nihal and/or Necla voicing their opinions on why he isn't. While that may sound simple, the wordplay and grounded performances often leave us with the feeling that we are eavesdropping on very private conversations.

Filmed in the breathtakingly beautiful Cappadocia region of Anatolia, the geological spectrum contrasts mightily with the near claustrophobic interior scenes that dominate the run time. In fact, when one of the characters does venture outdoors, viewers will find themselves breathing easier and in relief of the stressful intimacy of other scenes.

Hotel Othello is cut directly into one of the more picturesque hillsides of the area, and owner Aydin spends his days locked away in his office, kicking off his latest article bashing societal and morality changes within the village. Aydin has a pretty easy life, as he has inherited the hotel and numerous income producing rental properties from his father. Aydin's career as a stage actor also adds a bit to his local celebrity (and ego). He fancies himself an important man with an important voice, and never hesitates to broadcast his charitable offerings.

Aydin lives at the hotel with his much younger wife Nihal, and his recently divorced sister Necla. The dysfunction abounds as none of the three much respect the others, and manage to express this in the most incisive, passive-aggressive ways possible. There are two extended (each pushing 30 minutes) exchanges that are unlike anything you may have ever seen on screen. One has Necla letting Aydin know what she thinks of his articles, while the other has Nihal finally coming clean with her feelings of being held back, emotionally captive. Both scenes are captivating and powerful, yet voices are never raised and facial expressions are crucial. This is intimate filmmaking at its best and most uncomfortable psychological warfare would not be too extreme as a description.

Conflict is crucial for a dialogue-driven film. Some of the best include My Dinner with Andre, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, and 12 Angry Men. These are the type of movies that cause us to study all the subtleties within a scene not just what is said, but how it is said and how the message is conveyed. Pride, loneliness and despair run rampant through the characters here and the philosophical discussions force each to lay bare their soul.

For so little action, an undercurrent of wild emotions flows through every scene. In addition to the three leads, there is a character named Hamdi (an Islamic teacher/adviser, played by Serhat Mustafa Kilic) who plays the role of peace-keeper and mediator. His constant smile is but a mask he is forced to wear in his role, and I found his character the most painful of all to watch.

The title may be interpreted as either a "hibernation" or "sleep-walking through life's final stages", and both fit very well. The hotel provides a cave-like hiding place for Aydin, as he pretends to play his final role - that of an important man in the village. There are some truly masterful moments in the film, and it's easy to see why it appeals to only a certain type of film goer. Inspired by the short stories of Chekhov (The Wife, Excellent People),as well as the writings of Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and Voltaire, means the viewer is investing emotionally in characters quite full of resentment and oh so dishonest with themselves. It's an undertaking that is difficult, but does offer the opportunity to test one's listening skills and ability to read body language. It also comes with wisdom such as Donkeys lead camels (you'll have to watch the movie!).