top of page

While Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s film, Three Monkeys (2008) may seem to be a unique choice for a Western viewer, the utilisation of melodramatic genre conventions captures the imaginations of people around the world, while authentically communicating nationally specific social, political, and historical issues. This is a perfect example of how genre can bring the world together as an audience, and spark conversations and reflections.


Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s film, Three Monkeys (2008) successfully utilises genre in order to communicate national concerns of Turkey. In a melodrama film, there are three key plot features: a provocation, being what causes the villain to practice evil; pangs, being the pain experienced by the ‘good’ characters; and penalty, where the villain is brought to justice in the end. Also, as it is a family melodrama, it is concerned with issues of belonging and the nature of relationships. Through incorporating a variety of artistic film techniques to create subtle imagery and symbolism, Ceylan was able to represent and explore Turkish social, political, and historical issues. The selection of genre is also significant. The characteristic qualities of melodramas are universal and familiar to people all over the world. This recognition creates a level of simultaneity between audiences and the film thus, by using these conventions; Ceylan is able to transcend cultural barriers and access an international audience.


Provocation is an important element of melodrama. This can be defined as being “the initial cause for setting the action in motion; very often it is the jealously or greed of a wicked character.” (Akov, C. (2012)) In Three Monkeys however, the audience is deliberately deprived of this important information. This is accomplished by omitting the ‘cause’ and only exhibiting the ‘effect’. While the film contains extreme melodramatic events such as Servet’s car accident, Servet’s and Hacer’s affair or Ismail’s murder of Servet, the audience does not see them happening. What they do see is the aftermath of these events. Continuity shots are also used throughout in order to hide events from view. An example of this is when the police arrived at Hacer’s door in order to question her about Servet’s murder. As she opens the door, the camera cuts to the police station. As the audience is not shown or told the cause, there is room left for personal interpretation. If considered in relation to Turkish history, the film editor is like the government responsible for censorship. The audience is positioned as the Turkish citizens who in a similar way can only experience the ramifications of the historical events that are concealed from the national conscience. The continuity shots are also used to manipulate time for example, in the scene depicting Hacer’s first meeting with Servet, the camera cuts from turning around to see she has left to a point of view shot looking out the window as she crosses the road and then to a shot of him pulling up in front of her in his car. This technique, even when used to skip past seemingly meaningless action like Servet’s full journey from the office to Hacer creates the feeling that the audience has missed something. The subtleness of this omission portrays the censoring editor as almost sneaky, and calls the audience to actively pay attention to the time progression so they do not miss more important narrative details.



In Three Monkeys, the pangs of sadness experienced by the characters are analogous to the melodramatic genre. Being a family melodrama, the instigator for their anguish is the death of Eyup’s young son. At first glance, this tragedy is the cause of the character’s struggles however; the main problem is their conscious attempt to ‘forget’ all unfavourable past events. This is much like how Turkey attempted to disremember there past crimes of Armenian genocide through censorship of history. This is implied in the film’s title: Three Monkeys, which alludes to the well-known Japanese proverb of the ‘Three Wise Monkeys’. “Mizaru, covering his eyes, sees no evil. Kikazaru, covering his ears, hears no evil. Iwazaru, covering his mouth, speaks no evil. Together the three embody the proverbial principle to “See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil.”” (Cassaro, R. (2015)). The attitude that is illustrated in the proverb is that if a person actively avoids evil, they would be able to escape wickedness infecting their thoughts and actions. This belief has the opposite effect on the characters that are clearly driven by it. Denying evil poisons the internal world of their psyche and makes maintaining meaningful relationships impossible. The deceased son in the film becomes a signifier for the past hardships faced by Eyup’s family. He functions as the ‘elephant in the room’ and is never acknowledged or discussed by his family, even when Ismail and Eyup visited his grave. This lack of communication (i.e. ‘speak no evil’) about the son deprives the characters of the ability to speak about anything effectively. In many cases, they answer a question with a question for example, “ ‘what did you say?’ / ‘What did you think I said?’ or ‘Well?’ / ‘Well, what?’” (Suner, A. (2011)) This tendency to avoid directly answering questions gives the characters an air of defensiveness, as if they had something to hide; this isolates them from one another. The son is also not visually acknowledged. When visiting Ismail and later Eyup, Ismail hides his face until his younger brother leaves the room. Eyup refuses to look at him when he comes and hugs him. This “see no evil” tendency leads to increased chaos later on. Eyup sees Hacer on the balcony, possibly about to commit suicide. He however does not act and stops to contemplate what he must do. Unable to make sense of it, he ultimately looks away and tries to disconnect himself from the spectacle. This situation is similar to the situation in Turkey where there were bound to be many witnesses to their past crimes but because these people turned a blind eye to the truth, the injustices continued. The concept of “Hear no evil” is also evident in the film. Using psychoanalytic theory, Hacer begins her affair in order to satisfy her ‘id'. This is the instinctual part of human nature, and is instantly satisfied when one’s physical desires are met. Hacer does this by having sex with Servet. However, in order to find a sense of personal fulfilment in this way, Hacer must choose not to ‘hear’ the two other dimensions of her nature, these being her ‘ego’ and her ‘superego’. The ‘ego’ is concerned with restricting the ‘id’ in terms of what is socially acceptable; the ‘superego’ does this on the basis of morality. In relation to national context, Hacer’s deliberate choice not to listen is also representative of Turkey’s reluctance to acknowledge the truth. As a result, a state of national stability and similarly, a strong ‘nuclear’ family bond are both impossible to reach and maintain.



In Three Monkeys, as in a melodrama, the wrongdoers receive penalty and are brought to justice in the end. Penalty however becomes a major preoccupation of the film and is avoided in a way similar to the nation of Turkey following their acts of Armenian genocide. They had attempted to deny the occurrence of their crimes by “… find[ing] scapegoats to blame for what was said to be only a security measure that had gone awry due to unscrupulous officials, Kurds, and common criminals.” (Smith, R. (2015)). The film begins and ends with similar situations to this: Servet convinces Eyup to take the blame for the car crash he caused and later Eyup finds a boy to be punished for his son murdering Servet. The cyclical structure of the narrative emphasises that the instinctual drive to handover responsibility to another person infects the entire world of the film. The fact that Eyup had already been on the receiving end of this injustice makes him the least likely person to do this to someone else. When he does, it is made clear that the characters lack empathy for others, a quality that would make living with the knowledge they have committed this crime unbearable. The motives of Servet and Eyup emulate those of the Turkish nation in censoring their horrific crime from history. Servet, a businessman who is a candidate in an upcoming election is most worried about his political reputation. This is much like the way Turkey was concerned about their international standing and how they would be perceived and judged by other countries. Eyup acts to protect his son. In this instance, the boy he finds to be his ‘scapegoat’ is very much like the minorities (“…kurds, and common criminals”) that were used by Turkey in order to protect the people part of the dominant mainstream; which are manifested in the film as Eyup’s family. In melodrama films, “Social issues of the day could be played out between the virtuous hero or heroine and the evil villain. The moral leanings of the characters were always either good, bad, or foolish” (Kirk, D. (2014)). Although Three Monkeys does not have clearly defined heroes and villains, it is clear that characters who have avoided retribution for their offences are in the wrong. Servet’s death in the end represents a restoration of moral balance as he is brought to justice. Because his actions were replicated and worsened by Eyup as he is covering for a murder rather than an accident, his punishment is bound to also come about and perhaps be even more severe. The storm in the very end symbolises the cycle and how the suffering Eyup had endured in the film was simply ‘the calm before the storm’.



Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s film Three Monkeys (2008) successfully utilises genre in order to communicate national concerns of Turkey. In a melodrama film, there are three key plot features: a provocation, being what causes the villain to practice evil; pangs, being the pain experienced by the ‘good’ characters and penalty, where the villain is brought to justice in the end. Also, as it is a family melodrama, it is concerned with issues of belonging and the nature of relationships. Through incorporating a variety of artistic film techniques to create subtle imagery and symbolism, Ceylan was able to represent and explore Turkish social, political and historical issues.



References:


Books:


Anderson, B. (2006), Imagined Communities, London, New York: Verso

Arslan, S. (2011), Cinema in Turkey: A New Critical History, New York: Oxford University Press

Finkel, A. (2012), Turkey; What Everyone Needs to Know, Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press

Suner, A. (2011), ‘A Lonely and Beautiful Country: Reflecting Upon the State of Oblivion in Turkey Through Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Three Monkeys’ in Inter-Asia Cultural Studies, Basingstoke, Hampshire, UK : Routledge

Maksudyan, N. (2009). Walls of Silence: Translating the Armenian Genocide into Turkish and Self-Censorship. Critique, 37(4), 635-649. doi:10.1080/03017600903205781

Taspinar, O. (2005), Kurdish Nationalism and Political Islam in Turkey, New York: Routledge

Jenkins, G. (2001), Context and Circumstance: The Turkish Military and Politics, London: Oxford University Press for The International Institute for Strategic Studies


Websites:

Kirk, D. (2014), Popular Virtue: Melodrama, retrieved 17th April from:

Cassaro, R. (2015), The Secret Occult Meaning of the “Three Wise Monkeys” Hidden by the Elite, retrieved 17th April from: http://www.richardcassaro.com/the-secret-occult-meaning-of-the-three-wise-monkeys-hidden-by-the-elite-2

McLeod, S. (2008), Id, Ego and Superego, retrieved 18th April from: http://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html

Dirks, T. (2015), Melodrama Films, retrieved 18th April from: http://www.filmsite.org/melodramafilms.html

Bender, J. (2014), 10 Shameful Facts About Censorship in Turkey, retrieved 17th April from: http://www.businessinsider.com.au/10-facts-about-censorship-in-turkey-2014-3

Smith, R. (2015), The Armenian Genocide and Turkey’s Attempt to Deny It, retrieved 17th April from: http://www.anca.org/genocide/denial.php

Bradshaw, P. (2009), Three Monkeys, retrieved 18th April from: http://www.theguardian.com/film/2009/feb/13/three-monkeys-film-review

10 views0 comments

While this book may not seem like the most lively choice for some quiet reading time based on its title, The Graveyard Book is an exciting and quick read with twists and turns, intricate details, and beautifully fleshed out (no pun intended) characters. Like young Harry Potter, Bod is ‘the boy who lived’, and his potential in life is limitless.


Recently, I had the pleasure of reading a most unique novel: The Graveyard Book (2008). Penned by the award winning author, Neil Gaiman (well known for Coraline, Stardust, and American Gods), and beautifully illustrated by Chris Riddell, in a dark whimsical style that personally reminds me of Tony DiTerlizzi’s artwork in The Spiderwick Chronicles series, it is no wonder that this tale truly comes to life (despite the majority of characters being among the dead). According to fellow author Diana Wynne Jones (Howl’s Moving Castle), The Graveyard Book is “...the best book Neil Gaiman has ever written”. I will now briefly flash back to Miss Wick (me) walking through the Hub at St Luke’s Catholic College. With our staircases lined with books, I often have trouble keeping my head turned forward as I make my way from Point A to Point B. Being a Gaiman fan, this book certainly caught my attention quickly, and in the span of three days, I saw Nobody “Bod” Owens to the end of his journey. In this bildungsroman truly like no other, Bod must come of age and come into himself by stepping out of the graveyard and into the land of the living; a place in which his ghost guardians are unable to inhabit.


“There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.” Do I need to continue this review? Like in Orwell’s dystopian classic 1984, where “It was a bright cold day in april, and the clocks were striking thirteen” (Orwell, 1981), The Graveyard Book grasps the reader in a vice-like grip, and from the very first sentence, we cringe and shrink away from our titular villain, “the man Jack” (not Jack, ‘the man Jack’). Juxtaposing with the sharpness of the ice cold coolness of our villain is a family, snug in their beds, and shrouded with the illusion of safety that comes with being in the state of dream filled unconsciousness. One by one, he slices their lives away, leaving their spirits screaming and fleeing desperately to the hills. Meanwhile (much like the opening of the classic Christmas film, Elf), a curious and bright eyed baby boy climbs out of his crib, and makes his way out of the house and towards the nearby graveyard. Finding himself face to face with a variety of ghosts, with histories going back as much as hundreds of years, and a man named Silas who is not a ghost, but also not quite alive, the baby finds a home amongst the tombstones.


While he grows up amongst the dead, Bod learns what it is to live in this shadow of the world we know. He eats and he sleeps, and he takes classes (anything from the history of the graveyard, to how to “fade” or make yourself invisible, as ghosts do). It is definitely a proud accomplishment when Bod masters fading, as ironically he makes it feel like nobody is there, when in fact quite literally, Nobody (Owens) is there! The ghosts decide to call the baby Nobody, as they cannot agree on someone to name him after. His surrogate ghost mother, Mrs Owens claims that he looks like “nobody”, as in “nobody but himself”. Bod (not Bob as some peers mistakenly assume) certainly lives up to this expectation, and seeing him grow into a confident, caring, and creative individual is truly wonderful and satisfying as a reader. Looking for your next read? Pick up The Graveyard Book, and discover a whole new world, right under your nose (again, no pun intended).



References:


Berg, J., Komarnicki, T., & Robertson, S. (Producers), & Favreau, J. (Director). (2003). Eld [Motion Picture]. United States: New Line Cinema.


Gaiman, N., & Riddell, C. (2008). The graveyard book. London, Bloomsbury.


Orwell, George. 1984. New York, New American Library, 1981.


Rowling, J. K., author. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. New York :Arthur A. Levine Books, 1998.



13 views0 comments

During high school, an often tumultuous period of life which every person must face, it helps to know that wellbeing is something that is truly valued and respected. As a mentor teacher, I am privileged to be able to facilitate dedicated time for wellbeing at St Luke’s Catholic College.



Let’s face it if we haven’t already: being a teenager is hard. I certainly remember the choppy and unforgiving seas of puberty, and the ebb and flow of my personal development, as I drifted haphazardly on my way to the all too distant shores of adulthood. The peer pressure was suffocating, to the extent that seeing things clearly and rationally as they were was hard at times, especially when your survival depended on “fitting in”. Sitting quietly and reading meant you were a nerd; drawing in your art book meant you were the weird art kid; being by yourself made you a loner; while laughing with your best friend a little too loudly made you a loser all the same. Forget “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me” - words pack a powerful punch, and those kinds of bruises fade slowly. With a wavering sense of self, “just ignore them” was not a viable option - every little jab and criticism cut sharply, and tore at the fraying seams of my fragile ego. I disliked cliched phrases you’d hear from the occasional half-listening adult, that in 5 years, what you are crying about will seem so funny that you will be laughing at it; that you shouldn’t make a mountain out of a molehill; and that you should simply “buck up”, as the real problems happen when you are an adult… but the problems were real, and they were happening when I was a teenager.



When I knew I wanted to retrain to become a teacher, I also knew what sort of teacher I needed to be. By this, I don’t mean an English teacher (that would also be true), but a teacher who truly cares for each individual student in their class. When I look back on my personal experience as a high school student, I remember the teachers who saw me as a person rather than just another kid. There were teachers who really wanted to know what I liked, and who inspired passions I hadn’t yet discovered; who would say hi to me in the yard, and made coming to them with a question a safe and non-threatening feat. While I certainly had my fair share of good and bad experiences growing up, I cannot remember ever hearing the word “wellbeing”. I remember much talk about “self-esteem” (something that can be hard to maintain even as an adult) and “resilience” (to roll with the punches: #whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustronger), but it was not often that I was prompted to stop and reflect on my inner wellness. I remember when I was in Year 11 and going into Year 12, a favourite teacher of mine warned me of study burnout, and he worried that I was burning the candle at both ends. Maybe I was, but at the time, I wasn’t sure of how to not be doing this. Sometimes in school, especially when the stakes are raised when you become a senior student, It can be hard to escape the tunnel vision that can come when your heart is set on academic success, grades, and the highest ATAR possible. As they say, “something’s got to give”, but now as a teacher at St Luke’s, I can provide students with the tools they need to make sure that the “thing given” is not their mental, physical, and/or spiritual wellness.



Before I begin to describe being a mentor teacher, I would like to start by saying that it is a highlight of my week, and as I have been told by a few students, is a highlight of their week too. If you are reading this and you are from a different school context, being a mentor teacher is similar to being a homeroom teacher, except it is not:

  • Something that happens at the beginning of the day,

  • Something that happens every day, or

  • Something that only involves reading the announcements, and administrative check ins.

Instead, mentor class:

  • Happens on Tuesdays and Thursdays after recess (as students at St Luke’s who are part of Stage 5 and 6 have the option to have a “late start” to the day. This helps students catch up on much needed rest, and provides them with learner agency around when, where, and how they study).

  • Involves check-ins around uniform and sometimes features some key announcements, but instead is focused wholeheartedly on wellbeing, and getting to know the students as individuals.

  • Allows students to reflect on concepts such as gratitude, empathy, mindfulness (van Cuylenburg, H. 2019), how they can approach each day with a growth mindset (Dweck, C. 2006), and have a strong focus on the dignity of the human person (Caritas Australia 2022 on the Catholic Social Teachings) by treating themselves and others with kindness and consideration (I love to have my students write handwritten affirmations to each other, while I play my number 1 favourite song: Affirmation by Savage Garden).



When I first pondered the idea of being a mentor, it was during my time in corporate banking and finance. As part of a previous role (in another life), I helped facilitate and promote executive coaching programs, and a very popular mentor/mentee program, that allowed for professionals from different banking and finance companies to meet and learn from one another. While each program had their similarities and shared benefits, there are key differences between being a mentor and being a coach. According to Zust, “Coaching is more performance driven, designed to improve the professional's on-the-job performance. Mentoring is more development driven, looking not just at the professional's current job function but beyond, taking a more holistic approach to career development” (Zust, 2017). The below video also makes an excellent point I would like to highlight about the difference between executive coaching and mentoring programs; that coaches do not usually expect to learn from their coachees, while a mentor and mentee relationship is one of more mutual growth, as it relies on both parties to relate to one another based on their unique life experiences and perceptions of the world around them.



I cannot begin to fully express the amount of things I have learnt from my students, and that I continue to learn every day. Whether it is how to skip an ad on YouTube (thanks, Sally*), setting up my Macbook so I can log in using the fingerprint button (thank you, Gerald*), or how to look at a text or topical issue in a whole new light, it is this day to day learning that makes my job beautiful. It also certainly reinforces the idea of each student having a “virtual backpack”, and bringing different strengths to the classroom. According to McGregor and Mills, “For some children, their virtual schoolbag will be bursting with confidence-building memories; familiarity with texts and new technologies; and nascent skills in reading, writing and music; and, as a consequence of all these things, they will be ready for many of the expectations and routines of formal schooling. Other children, however, may not have had opportunities to fill their schoolbags with the kinds of knowledges and skills valued by formal schooling. They may have learnt many other valuable life skills at home in terms of their family or ethnic cultures, but these may be far removed from the formal rituals of mainstream schooling environments” (McGregor,G. & Mills, M., 2017). To extend on this, I believe this is similarly the case for teachers, in what I will call our “virtual briefcases”. While we may be the experts in our KLAs, I believe that approaching teaching with the attitude of a life-long learner is the best way for us to feel fulfilled, and for everyone in the community to continue to learn and be truly well, in our minds, bodies, and souls.


*Aliases have been used in place of student names



Articles:


McGregor, Glenda and Mills, Martin (2017). The virtual schoolbag and pedagogies of engagment. Powers of curriculum: sociological perspectives on education. Edited by Brad Gobby and Rebecca Walker. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press.373-392.


Books:


Van Cuylenburg, H. The Resilience Project: Finding Happiness through Gratitude, Empathy and Mindfulness. Penguin Random House Australia: Ebury Press, 2019.


Dweck, C. Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Ballantine Books: New York, 2008.


Websites:


Caritas Australia., (2022). 'Dignity of the human Person'. https://www.caritas.org.au/learn/cst-toolkit/dignity-of-the-human-person/


Zust, C, (2017). 'Know the Difference Between Coaching and Mentoring'. https://www.kent.edu/yourtrainingpartner/know-difference-between-coaching-and-mentoring


Videos:


Grace VanderWaal. 2017, Grace VanderWaal - So Much more Than This, online video, viewed on 31 August 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48qcnpCWBq0


LeanVlog. 2017, Coaching vs Mentoring, online video, viewed on 31 August 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fFQiLOtDkc


Savage Garden. 2011, Savage Garden - Affirmation, online video, viewed on 31 August 2022,




58 views0 comments
bottom of page