Enciclopedia de Estambul

Were well played by all actors. Interesting plot about coming snd leaving places. This film is about finding your identity in a new place surrounded by new people, making new friends and how to get to know a big city. It is also about Cultural and religious clashes about growing up and about letting go of people you love. It taked up serous topics like how our past affects us and how we all are full of judgement. If you are looking for a film with scenic Istanbul views, this might not be a film for you. This film is about conflicts in life, the thing that makes a person grow and how problems never leave.

This isn't a documentary. It's a love letter whispered through stone, shadow, and silence. You don't watch it-you drift through it. No narration, no urgency, just the gentle unfolding of a city remembering itself.

Every frame feels like a forgotten corner of your own memory. Cracked tiles. A shop window covered in dust. The echo of a call to prayer, not as sound-but as feeling. It's not nostalgia. It's intimacy. The kind you only share with places that have shaped you.

There's a kind of quiet magic here: the beauty of things left unsaid. Of buildings that have seen more than they'll ever tell. It invites you to listen-not with your ears, but with your attention.

When it ended, I felt slower. Softer. As if I had wandered through someone else's dream and recognized pieces of myself in it.

Istanbul Ansiklopedisi is not a documentary-it's a quiet act of remembrance. Watching it feels like walking through a half-forgotten dream, where every alley and voice holds a story you didn't know you missed. It's not about nostalgia for the sake of beauty; it's about memory, identity, and the layers we live on without always noticing.

There's no rush, no dramatization. Instead, the film lets Istanbul speak through people, places, and pauses. Its rhythm is slow but steady-like the city's own heartbeat. You don't just learn about Istanbul; you feel its breath, its wounds, its wit.

By the end, I felt like I had been handed a photo album with no captions-just moments, quietly powerful and impossibly familiar. It's a love letter, not to the city we see, but to the city we sense-just under the surface, still whispering.

Istanbul has been at the crossroads of humanity since the human story began. However, this is not a story about Istanbul. Neither Istanbul's history, nor its beauty, nor its complexities are addressed in this series, but they are always there, always pressing against the lens. Istanbul is the backdrop for a well acted, well told tale of two women struggling to define themselves in a city that has witnessed entire civilizations come and go, a city of ancient lore and modern rhythms, and like most huge cities, a place of abundant indifference.

This is the story of a young, bright eyed Zehra, off to the big city to start her life. Zehra quickly takes refuge with Nesrin, the estranged cousin, and once best friend of Zehra's mother. Nesrin, who came to this city as a young girl herself, is now a middle aged doctor, hardened by her time here, and desperate to escape.

The title of this movie is taken from "Istanbul Encyclopedia", an incomplete guidebook that was first published in 1944. It is a guidebook that our young protagonist Zehra is using to learn about her new environment. It is through select points of interest in this book that Zehra tells us what she learns from her experience in Istanbul.

Both my wife and I enjoyed this series very much, partly because we have been to Istanbul and fell in love with it, but mostly because this series was well made. The casting of actors were excellent choices, and those actors did an excellent job of bringing their characters to life and making them believable. The direction, the cinematography, and the writing were also very well done. Our only disappointment was that it didn't show off more of that magnificent city. But, Istanbul is always there, always leaning in.

Istanbul Encyclopedia feels less like a documentary and more like a whispered confession from a city trying not to forget itself. It's not loud or urgent-it's patient. It listens. The camera doesn't force your gaze; it gently invites you to notice what's fading.

Old buildings crumble in silence. Faces pass by, unnamed, yet full of stories. Streets breathe memory. There's no grand narrative, no hero's journey-just fragments of a city wrapped in time. The kind of film that doesn't give answers but leaves echoes.

I watched it and felt something shift-subtle, like dust settling. It made me want to walk through Istanbul slowly, to hear the walls, to see the past layered beneath paint and noise. It's a love letter, yes, but written in shadows and sighs.

By the end, I didn't just miss the past-I mourned it.