Sunday, February 22, 2015

Turkish Mad Max (Çetin Inanç, 1983)

Are they cops? I doubt it. Are they secret agents? In a past life maybe. Are they badasses? Most definitely. Oh, hi, don't mind me, I'm just trying to determine the profession of the three lead characters in Turkish Mad Max (a.k.a. Ölüme Son Adim or Last Step To Death), come for the excessive coin tossing, stay for the crazy amount of upskirts, or, I should say, stay for the crazy amount of Turkish upskirts. (What's the difference between a Turkish upskirt and a non-Turkish upskirt?) I don't know, what's the difference? (Um, no. I was, uh, hoping you might tell me.) I know, I'm just fucking with you. While I would love to explain to you (in unnecessarily intricate detail) the difference between a Turkish upskirt and a non-Turkish upskirt, I don't think it would be fair to those who haven't experienced the mind-blowing spectacle that is this motion picture. Let me put this way, once you witness a Turkish upskirt, all other upskirts will seem yawn-worthy by comparison.

Believe it or not, there's more to Turkish Mad Max than Turkish upskirts... (You mean Turkish continuity errors?) Very funny. I was actually referring Turkish bikini babes, Turkish leggy floozies, Turkish drinking contests and Turkish kung-fu (which I like to call "Turk-fu," because the participants are Turks, you know, as opposed to non-Turkish Chinese dudes).

(Well played, my friend. Or, I should say, my Turkish friend. Clearly annoyed by my attempt to mock your habit of putting the word "Turkish" before almost everything that takes place in this film, you managed to turn my veiled attack on your unique brand of idiocy and transform it into something that is on the cusp of being clever. Kudos.)

Thanks, it's what I do.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, Turkish Mad Max. I think I was extolling the soft, yet surprisingly sturdy virtues of Emel Tümer's Turkish thighs. What's that? You're saying I have made no mention of Emel Tümer's Turkish thighs up until this point?!? That can't be right. Let me double check.

Well, I did mention Turkish leggy floozies. But, as most people know, there's a big difference between Turkish leggy floozies and Turkish thighs that are soft yet sturdy. More importantly, Emel Tümer is no Turkish leggy floozy. She's a Turkish goddess. I'd even go as far as to say that Emel Tümer is one of the most attractive women I've ever seen. I mean, hell, even her Turkish machine gun face is sexy.

(I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a "Turkish machine gun face"?)

It's simple, really. Unable to produce muzzle flashes for their prop machine guns, writer-director Çetin Inanç and his crew would instruct the cast to shake their heads during close-ups in order to mimic the movements one might experience while firing an automatic weapon.

In some cases, they were able to add muzzle flashes during post-production. But for the most part, the cast,  Emel Tümer in particular, were told to employ their Turkish machine gun face. And since Emel Tümer  is so freakin' hot in this movie, her innate sex appeal could not be dampened by the spastic rigors of fake machine gun usage. Anyway, I hope that answers your question.

It's obvious right from the get-go that Kagan (Cüneyt Arkin) is one agile mother-scratcher. Infiltrating the hideout of a notorious drug kingpin with a quiet brand of efficiency, Kagen suddenly changes  tactics when he unleashes a thunderous cacophony of kicks and punches in the general direction of the hapless henchmen that have been haphazardly put in his way.

Eventually cornering the lead drug dealer in his office, Kagan forces him to eat a bag of heroin while a babe in a yellow bikini watches in horror.

Patiently awaiting the arrival of the fedora-wearing henchmen that have no doubt been sent to "take care" of him in response to his recent drug den busting shenanigans, Kagan calmly plays cards on his bed. I know, you're thinking to yourself, how is Kagan going to prevent these thugs from doing him grave bodily harm? After all, they're packing some serious heat. It's simple, really, he stabs them. (All of them?) It's no secret, Kagan rarely ever leaves the house without at least ten knives.

Impressed by Kagan's ability to overcome adversity, another gangster decides to seek out his services. Feeding him a load of nonsense about rescuing some professor (one who has apparently developed a revolutionary leukemia medicine) from a gang of militants, the gangster (a real twitchy bastard) manages to convince Kagan to take the job.

It would seem that one of the perks of being a low-life in this film's universe is that every room comes equipped with either a leggy floozy or a bikini babe. In the case of Saban (Yildirim Gencer), a tactical expert and frequent coin toss loser, his room has been furnished with a bikini babe.

Making out with a bikini babe in a periwinkle bikini while Turkish disco pop blasts on the soundtrack, Saban is living the life. Not only is his bikini babe shapely in all the places, she's... uh... I seemed to have lost my train of thought.

After some playful leg pulling, Kagan asks Saban to accompany him on his mission to rescue the professor.

While it's a tough assignment, Kagan and Saban manage to rescue the professor. The End.

(Wait a minute, what about Emel Tümer and her many Turkish upskirts?) Oh yeah, I'm sorry about that. They must have slipped my mind. Just kidding. If anything, Turkish upskirts are always on my mind.

When Kagan and Saban approach Emel Tümer's character, oh, let's call her, Yağmur, she's doing what most Turkish women do in their spare time: Participate in beer drinking contests.

Wearing a teal and black-ish polka dot dress, tan pantyhose, white panties and cyan new wave space boots, Yağmur is currently drinking this shirtless lout under the table.

(If Yağmur, like you say, is wearing a dress, how do you know her panties are white?)

Two words: Turkish upskirt.

Clearly annoyed that the guy they put their money on lost the beer drinking contest, the soused rabble become belligerent and start pawing at Yağmur in an aggressive manner. In order to placate the mob's grabby advances, Yağmur employs a combination of punches and kicks. And since the act of kicking involves the raising of one's leg in an upward fashion, Yağmur's pantyhose and pantie-ensnared crotch area would briefly see the light of day during the implementation of each kick.

And since the bar is packed with unruly drunks, that means Yağmur is going to have to be doing a lot of kicking. And more kicking means more Turkish upskirts. What a country!

In later scenes, Yağmur can be seen wearing short shorts. Now, you would think, given the non-skirt temperament that short shorts repeatedly put out there, that there would be a major shortage of Turkish upskirts in Turkish Mad Max from this point on. You don't think the director is going to let a tiny swath of denim prevent him from giving us the Turkish upskirts we crave? Think again.

In a weird twist, Yağmur is wearing denim short shorts when she begins her descent down a cliffside, but she is clearly wearing a denim skirt when she finishes her descent. Did she change outfits mid-descent? Who's to say? All I know is, if you're thinking about getting into Turkish cinema, only an idiot wouldn't start their journey off with Turkish Mad Max. If you can't find it, try Head-On, that one's good, too.

No comments:

Post a Comment