eminkarakus

I am not normally regarded as a mobile gamer, but I loved this game, you can find everything in this game. Especially the puzzles are made of classic games. Also storyline is epic.

PRIVATE OSMAN belongs neither with the guns-and-muscle revenge rippers of his first decade in cinema, nor with the sheep-and- tractor social portraits of his last.The titular character, played by Güney himself, is a hapless photojournalist who has returned from military service and now makes his living in Istanbul by manufacturing spectacular crimes that he and his colleague- girlfriend will then be the first to cover. Constantly ducking from the law, shooting up bars, and starting fights, Osman is a kind of devil-may-care Peter Parker, a Belmondo with a camera.

His racket eventually lands him in the thick of a crime syndicate's real intrigues, and he ends up having to walk more of the walk than he expected. Osman takes on more and more of the traits of Güney's traditional "Ugly King" persona, culminating in a half-hour long showdown in which many bad guys get shot from impressive distances.

Following less in the footsteps of Italian neorealism than HOPE from the same year and more in those of the French New Wave, PRIVATE OSMAN features a girl and a gun, frenetic cutting, and a mockingly American soundtrack consisting mostly of a few repeated bars of Yankee Doodle. Those interested in class struggle will also find the token band of striking workers, portrayed with a mix of back- slapping familiarity and ironic detachment. Snippets of a union leader's exhortations are heard and glimpses of torn posters for proletarian street rallies are glimpsed. Both references to the contemporary political situation in Istanbul recall early Godard in their light-handedness.

If BAND OF OUTSIDERS is Godard's most accessible film, PRIVATE OSMAN is certainly Güney's.

Ex-architect Yesim Ustaoglu was inspired to make this film after reading newspaper articles about Kurdish villages laid waste in southeastern Turkey. Given the level of censorship she faced, this lyrical, deceptively simple tale about love, loss, and identity (brilliantly shot by Kieslowski's old cameraman Jacek Petrycki) is all the more courageous. The story starts with two outsiders, Mehmet and Berzan, meeting in Istanbul, where both are eking out an existence in the face of police oppression. When Berzan is killed, Mehmet embarks on an epic journey across country to return his body to his home village. Ustaoglu is never didactic. Instead, she shows the bafflement and yearning of the young friends as they struggle to make sense of their predicament.