Like all great works of art, Takva is a simple story: a man corrupted in an incorruptible world of a religious order of Sufi ecstatics. And like all great works of art, the story is at once utterly banal and profound beyond measure. A humble, self-effacing Muharrem, a devoted member of an Istanbul dargah is brought into a seemingly irresolvable inner conflict by the humility of his spiritual leader Cemal who acts on a dream that came to him from God, and appoints Muharrem the order's property administrator. The man's simple world and relationship with God is destroyed by an incomprehensible chasm that develops between his understanding of his faith and the leaders' whom he deeply respects and depends on. The story told by lesser masters than Cakar and Kiziltan, would probably end up a silly remake of a Forty-year old Virgin in Istanbul. But in their hands, Takva, God's omnipresence in the lives of the protagonists, is not just a believable story, but a masterful narration of a self-assured purpose, told at once with a great deal of human care for, and at the same time with a stoic detachment from, the predicament of a simple man's soul. The end effect is a brilliantly balanced irony. On the level of the plot  there is the unconditional respect for God's will in the two order's leaders which forces them to appoint and keep Muharrem against their better judgment observing his fear of God is that of an eunuch, and there is the unconditional respect for God's will by Muharrem based on his straightforward demand for purity and compassion. On the micro level, the writing has dashes of clever insight into human interiors: a sigh from master Ali, Muharrem's employer: "now I am the idiot's secretary" , and the order's counsel Rauf's revelation in "take this watch, brother; it keeps time precisely; it is made by the heathen". The ecstatic chants and movements of the dervishes' dhikr as a background make the movie an extraordinary experience.