I have a sneaking suspicion that this wonderful film will walk off with the Palm D’Or. Why is a good question. The film is Turkish, and I’ve yet to meet a critic who can pronounce the director’s name (Nuri Bilge Ceylan). The story is a mess. But it is a thing of mental, sonic, and visual beauty. Forget Crystal Skulls. This is the real business of Cannes. The story is surprisingly simple, but brilliantly told. A thrusting politician smacks into a man on a country road in the middle of the night. He asks his humble driver -- who is nowhere near the crash -- to take responsibility for a fat fee. Nine months in jail is chicken feed.

The exquisite twist is the money, and the horny wife, and the angry grown-up son. The sweltering heat is in marvellous counter-point with the tension. This is a must.

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