Law of the Border is a film shot and produced in Turkey, primarily for domestic consumption, rather than for the international art house scene, since it doesn't seem too preoccupied with establishing a historic context for non-Turks. From what I've been able to read on the internet, the film reportedly ushered in a New Wave of sorts in that country's cinema when it premiered in 1966. Without any familiarity whatsoever with Turkish movies, or really much of anything that I could consider the authentic culture of that society, much less the underlying political intrigues that inform this 70 minute drama, I have no basis to make before and after comparisons, but it was a fascinating discovery simply on its own terms. The summary that came to my mind to help introduce and recommend it to anyone curious is to envision the basic repressive government vs. disgruntled populace set-up that made The Battle of Algiers so compelling (and filmed in a similar gritty, pseudo-documentary style), with a bit of Bicycle Thieves' Neorealist father-son pathos thrown into the mix, and a dash of Red River's emphasis on the hazards of moving a herd across the land, only substituting sheep for cattle in this case.
To build especially on the similarities with Pontecorvo's masterpiece, released right around same time as Law of the Border: the direction by Lutfi Akad and the strong presence of lead actor and screenwriter Yilmaz Guney achieve remarkable results in winning sympathy for the central character of Hidir, a tribal man pushed by circumstances to head up a smuggling operation that puts his life and freedom in great danger. In this, he's opposed by a newly appointed military lieutenant charged with keeping the frontier borderlands secure. Adding to the tension is the government's effort to establish an elementary school in the rustic village, led by a woman teacher who also happens to be quite beautiful. The modern innovation doesn't sit well with the tribal elders, who are suspicious of how education will affect their children's willingness to carry on in time-honored traditions.
A fair amount of the early part of the film is spent chronicling interactions between Hidir and his various allies and adversaries, each of whom have their own rivalries and self-interests to pit against each other. At times, it got a bit confusing to track the different linkages and feuds, and that challenge (especially to novices to this society like me) is only exacerbated by the film's degraded condition. Quite a few scenes appear to be missing significant portions, others are spliced together quite abruptly, and it's hard to know if the jumps and rough transitions are entirely accidental, or sometimes deliberate as part of Akad's cinematic vocabulary. But even if the particular details don't fall neatly into place for the average Western viewer, there's no mistaking the high stakes at play in this conflict, especially since the outcome remains so highly unpredictable throughout the final act, which mostly consists of a frantic and brutal gunfight followed by an attempted escape through a minefield.
And speaking of Westerns, if the basic plot of livestock rustlers vs. lawmen, a pretty schoolmarm and a pistols-a-blazin' shootout at the end gets you thinking that Law of the Border is some kind of a Turkish cowboy movie, I guess that works as well as any other point of entry. But don't come in expecting a wry or playful homage. Far from that, the twist here is that most likely you'll find yourself sympathizing with the smugglers and thieves more than you will with the forces of law and order. Even more remarkable is the degree that I found myself empathizing with the plight of the villagers, who intuitively understand that every degree of cooperation that they extend to the government forces pushing in upon them will erode their autonomy, and that no degree of assimilation is likely to ever win them a fully equal footing in the new modernized society. It's a fundamental conflict that endures to this day in the Middle East, and this film offers a rare opportunity to view it from an insider's perspective that probably stands in stark contrast to that of most readers.
I watched Law of the Border on Hulu Plus, the only format in which Criterion has made it available, even though it's part of Martin Scorcese's World Cinema Project, subject of an ambitious six-title dual-format box that was issued late in 2013. This film wasn't included in that set, perhaps because the condition of the sole surviving print of this film is so rough and choppy that it didn't quite warrant a full-fledged Blu-ray edition. The film fell victim to orchestrated government suppression following a coup in 1980. All known prints and negatives of the film were confiscated and destroyed, except for this one that was stashed away by the director's daughter, and restored as much as possible in 2011. I'm sure the work was heroic, but the final product is still pretty ragged in spots. I can imagine that if space and price were at all considerations, some tough choices had to be made, and Law of the Border's less than optimal presentation probably weighed against it.
But what a shame that would be if the film's current lack of availability on disc media somehow dissuaded viewers from checking it out. Certainly anyone who's found intrigue and enjoyment from any of the other films included in the WCP volume should make it a priority to check this one out as well. Law of the Border is a revealing eye-opener of a movie, a journey into some new territory sufficiently exotic to feel fresh and easily digestible in its brevity.
Next: A Modern Coed