Actor Uğur Polat says he is disappointed with Turkish critics

“Güzel Günler Göreceğiz,” which had its premiere last October in Antalya as part of the city’s annual Altın Portakal (Golden Orange) International Film Festival national feature competition, tells of a day in the intersecting lives of five people who live in present-day İstanbul.

Polat’s character is an incredibly corrupt police chief; he has a family that he ignores, he is addicted to drugs, involved in bribery and he cheats on his wife. Moreover, he keeps stalking her even though she tells him she wants him out of her life.

Polat spent his teenage years in Ankara, which he now calls “the years when I sowed the seeds of depressing roles on screen. … I was always on the streets, playing football with my friends or just horsing around. Just like most teenage boys, I used to carve swords and handguns out of wood, but I never really liked guns. My real dream was to become an architect because my older brother was an architect and so I wanted to be like him.”

As for his screen idols, Polat lists actors Sadri Alışık and Vahi Öz among his heroes from Yeşilçam’s heyday.

The 52-year-old Polat speaks of his most recent movie and his acting career in general in an interview with Sunday’s Zaman:

When did you decide to become an actor?

They [the legendary actors of Yeşilçam] were so big on the silver screen and I truly liked that. When I was a primary school student I used to recite tales to the class. In high school I consciously made the choice to be involved in theater. With the theater club of a political association I took to the stage in a production we staged at a special event for miners. It was a propaganda play that [almost] chanted slogans like “Down with the bosses!” Among the viewers were stage and screen actor Rutkay Aziz, who invited me to [his theater company] the Ankara Art Theater [AST]. And so began my adventure in acting.

You studied journalism, right?

I entered [the university] exams. I mainly wanted to be an architect but my score was only good enough to enroll in the journalism [department]. I never really attended the classes, all through my three years as a student at that school. I only traveled to İstanbul to take the midterms and year-end exams. Joining the AST was a milestone in my life. I was already a fan of the company and I used to watch all of their productions; I even watched some of them eight or even 10 times. My parents then moved to İstanbul but I still did not attend classes. When I told my parents I wanted to study [theater] at the conservatory, they gave their full support to me.

What kind of a student were you?

Very brilliant! I am the first student of the İstanbul State Conservatory to have graduated with a full degree of 10 over 10. Legendary actors Yıldız Kenter, Müşfik Kenter and Zeliha Berksoy were among our teachers. They gave us a great education, they truly supported us. And we were a good class: Taner Birsel, Ali Sürmeli, Kürşat Alnıaçık and Murat Karasu. Even today, our class is among the legendary groups that have graduated from the school. Because of our talent and the harmony among us, our joint projects were always admired [by our tutors].

We used to nurture each other rather than our own selves. Years have passed, we each made big names for ourselves and life has taken each of us down different paths, but we still talk frequently, at least over the phone. We’re all in our 50s now; I’m slowly starting to turn into an old man. We played together with Taner [Birsel] in four or five films. In his first big screen role in “Bir Erkeğin Anatomisi” [The Anatomy of a Man, 1997] I was almost close to retirement.

Tell us about your friendship with Birsel.

We have high regard for each other’s observations. People say Taner and I are very much alike. When you listen to our voices with your eyes closed, you might even think it’s the same person speaking. We even shared a flat for some time. … We used to get along great. We only parted ways during our time as interns. We even served our military service together.

What were your dreams for the future then?

We were truly idealists. We used to say “we will be Turkey’s best actors,” “we will stage the best plays in Turkish theater,” and “we will establish our own theater company.” But things didn’t turn out that way.

Let’s turn to your newest movie, “Güzel Günler Göreceğiz.” The film stirred quite a debate at the 2011 Altın Portakal film festival. Are you disappointed?

I am. Most of those who spoke [badly] of the movie then were film critics and several filmmakers. Those people support certain film directors as though they were football teams. If there are no films by Zeki Demirkubuz, Reha Erdem or Nuri Bilge [Ceylan] in a film festival, that organization is treated as a second-rate event. When their favorite [director or film] does not win, they start denouncing the winners. [Director Ümit Ünal’s] “Nar” [Pomegranate] was [the critics’] darling in Antalya but that film could not clinch even one award at the SİYAD [Turkish Film Critics Association] Awards. This is a huge paradox. [Turkish film critics] are on the way to becoming a lobbying group [in the movie industry].

Some critics said the film’s screenplay was full of clichés and some argued it was a macho film. What do you say?

I don’t understand which part of the film was found to be cliché. Plus it’s not a macho film; it’s just that one of the characters in the film is macho. I do not understand why the fact that this film tackles more than one [social] problem disturbed them [critics] so much. Tolga [Pulat] is a brilliant young man who has made his first film and won awards with it. Let him first direct his second feature. Only then can you comment on his filmmaking. They can call Reha Erdem Turkey’s greatest filmmaker -- and I agree that he is -- but he also had to go through these phases in his career before becoming what he currently is. People should listen to their consciences before commenting on someone.

You have very close friends among film critics. Did that situation harm any of these friendships?

I don’t care. Whether [critic] Uğur Vardan billed my role in the film as my “hat-trick in the role of a policeman” or he wrote about the performance of my beards in another film does not interest me at all. Over the years I’ve had so many disappointments and so many delights. But they shouldn’t upset a young film director like this.

In fact, I think they also disappointed Ümit Ünal. I really don’t have an idea about what they’re trying to do.

You seldom play in comedies. Is this a conscious choice?

In truth I really love doing comedy. I played in a number of comic plays during my time with the State Theaters [DT] and also in several partly funny movies. The thing is, in Turkey, comedies are usually based on stock characters, whereas I like character acting, where there is more dialogue.

Do you think that you ever repeat yourself?

Certainly there have been times that I have repeated myself. Some of my films really do resemble each other. I have played in 30 films and 30 plays. As the number increases repetition becomes unavoidable.

Why don’t we see you in blockbusters?

I made a small single-scene appearance in Cem Yılmaz’s “Yahşi Batı” [The Ottoman Cowboys]. “Salkım Hanım’ın Taneleri” [Mrs. Salkım’s Diamonds] was my biggest box office success. It sold 500,000 tickets. Others are independent, low-budget films so they are not widely released. And moviegoers do not want to watch these kinds of films. They watch [comedies] because those movies make audiences laugh. Still I’m one of those who believe that a film should challenge its audience. That’s the trouble that comes with art: to force the audience to think, to come up with a solution.

When a movie flops at the box office, is it often seen as the actors’ fault?

They sometimes blame it all on us. But I stand by 99 percent of my films. The remaining 1 percent probably constitutes films that were made by directors who were very close friends of mine, or their producers paid really well. As for “Güzel Günler Göreceğiz,” if the film does not succeed in the box office, I’ll take one-fifth of the blame.