Private Lesson Movie Review: Unfunny, tiresome, derivative, cliché, take your pick

Kivanç Baruönü’s romantic comedy is one forgettable effort. Sitting through its entirety is hard enough, if you ask me, but finding even some redeemable quality in its duration is the most demanding task of all. The cast and crew must, first and foremost, sign up for a crash course in commercial cinema. When each aspect of the filmmaking process is so run-of-the-mill, deriving inspiration from the genre’s lowest common denominators that have fallen by the wayside over time, one wonders if there are standards of any kind being adhered to? Clearly, this already-crowded genre sees an influx of new, below par material year upon year. If I were to put my finger on the poorest part of Private Lesson, it has to be its script. Calling it derivative, cliché, laughably unfunny and so forth would be the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Characters are a mishmash of romantic comedy gone bad – meaning, they’ve been lifted from caricatures of rom-coms that are responsible for the genre’s negative rap. Despite the category’s limitations, the one thing that can set a film in such a milieu apart is how identifiable the characters are. The narrative may be a bit off or the conflict may seem incredulous or the ending may come off as far-fetched but if the primary characters portrayed are living, breathing individuals with regular human needs and emotions, you are willing to forgive its flaws. That brings me to the acting. Even if writers Murat Disli and Yasemin Erturan were attempting to show real people with grand fantasies in their heads (pretty sure they weren’t), there is not one actor who pulls off a scene well. Maybe Halit Özgür Sari comes the closest to being average in a least-of-all-evil kind of way, but I do clutch at straws while making this observation.

Director – Kivanç Baruönü

Cast – Bensu Soral, Halit Özgür Sari, Helin Kandemir, Rami Narin, Hatice Aslan

Streaming On – Netflix

The lead character Azra (Bensu Soral) is a pretend, private tutor mentoring a handful of young adult women at university. She may be a teacher in the eyes of parents and the establishment, helping wards with grades and the like, but her actual role is that of a life coach and image consultant for women vying for attention from the opposite sex. Sad, I know, but we must beat on. When bookish student Hande (Helin Kandemir) accidentally stumbles upon Azra’s covert operation, the former uses leverage (her aunt is the dean) to get help in achieving her romantic goal. The said objective involves bagging a handsome, shades-wielding, jacket-flaunting guy who attends college with her. He’s cocky. He pays her no heed. He’s also a dodgy character; the makers don’t even attempt to be subtle about this. It’s safe to say that predictability is, well and truly, the film’s ally. We come now to Azra’s romantic interest (how can we not?) - a new neighbour called Burak (Halit Özgür Sari) who enjoys annoying her with quirky antics. Sometimes it’s his cupboard blocking her front door (he’s just moved in, for heaven’s sake) or the loud music (and host of women) coming from his apartment upstairs. This outward annoyance on her part is there to offset a growing fascination she develops (bet you didn’t see that coming!). Her dating advice and her actions are at odds once this aforementioned attraction is explored.

The primary leads (female and male) are presented as two immaculately attractive people. Just your standard, gorgeous neighbours next door. Very plausible! Helin Kandemir’s Hande is made to look overly gawkish to fit the nerdy stereotype. This is a deliberate attempt to train the lens on how self-assured and sophisticated Bensu Soral’s Azra is. Her consummate idiocy throughout must be overlooked, as appearing stunning trumps all! Bravo! The bond between Azra and Hande is never that of a student and teacher, as is pushed by the story. The power dynamic resembles that of a boss and a perfectly replaceable underling. Despite Azra’s cheery visage, her condescending manner to her ward takes its own sweet time to abate. Private Lesson goes to great lengths to make Hande come off as a bumbling oaf; the woman is supposed to be introverted and socially awkward, not a jackass. What’s all this about her being an intellectual and a consumer of deep literature if you’re going out of your way to make her look bad? From what you see on screen, it’s laughable to consider the writers coming up with even one believable character arc. Finally, there’s Halit Özgür Sari’s Burak, “the man” who keeps it all together when the ladies are losing their minds. Is it too much to ask of rom-com makers (of 2022, no less) to accord women some basic agency, at the very least?

Bereft of humour and altogether tiresome, the only lesson the film provides is the one about making better viewing choices. Finding redemption in this vortex of mediocrity promises to be an onerous task that has no end.