Istanbul Ansiklopedisi

This isn't a film you watch-it's a city remembering itself. Slowly. Softly. With no urgency to explain, only the desire to be seen. There's no plot to follow, no voice to guide you. Just corners. Sounds. Faded textures of life once lived.

It feels like drifting through the soul of a place that's always been too loud to truly hear. But now, in stillness, it speaks. Cracked walls, forgotten courtyards, distant echoes of laughter. It's not nostalgia-it's presence. Unadorned and intimate.

The camera doesn't rush. It lingers, invites, and quietly asks: Do you remember this? Did you ever look?

By the end, I wasn't moved in the usual way. I felt quieter. Slower. Like something old and tender had brushed against me and left a trace.

It felt like opening a timeworn diary - one written not with ink, but with cobblestones, faded photographs, and the echo of seagulls. The rhythm was slow, like a city stretching awake at dawn, revealing its soul not all at once, but piece by piece. What moved me most was how the ordinary became sacred: a street name, a forgotten café, the way light touched old windows. It didn't just inform - it embraced. Watching it felt like walking hand in hand with memory, through fog and golden light. There was sorrow, yes - the ache of what's been lost - but also wonder in what remains. It reminded me that a city isn't just buildings or history, but layers of lives, stories, and breath. When it ended, I felt quiet - not empty, but full of something ancient and alive.

It felt like leafing through an old book where each page was scented with memory - textured, intimate, and quietly alive. The city wasn't just a backdrop; it was a breathing character, shifting with time, watching silently as lives unfolded within its veins. Every episode was like wandering through a different street at dusk - where laughter echoed off the walls of the past, and shadows whispered stories you almost remember. What moved me most was the tenderness in its gaze - it didn't try to impress, it invited. It let the city's poetry speak in gestures, glances, and shared silences. Watching it felt like returning somewhere you've never been, but somehow missed. And when it ended, I didn't feel like it was over - I felt like I had been entrusted with a secret, one only the heart could translate.

This film isn't just about a city-it's a meditation on memory, silence, and the quiet beauty hidden in everyday life. Watching it feels like walking through the veins of Istanbul itself, where every street, every shadow holds a secret waiting to be heard.

There's no rush, no narration pushing you forward-just a gentle invitation to notice the small things: cracked walls, fleeting glances, the sound of footsteps echoing down empty alleys. It's like the city is speaking softly, revealing its soul in moments both fragile and timeless.

The film's stillness isn't empty; it's full-full of stories untold and feelings half-remembered. It makes you slow down, breathe, and feel connected to a place that's alive in every frame.

When it ended, I felt quietly moved, as if I'd just shared a secret with a dear old friend.

This movie is not really about Istanbul per say, except as a metaphor, as many big cities are, for escaping to the masses.

Meaning away from the fishbowl of where you came from, and the limiting borders of your previous existence, and to the generic mass of humanity, where you either lose yourself or find yourself. Or possibly both.

The premise is interesting, if not fully fleshed out. Students of architecture are asked to share the impact the city has had on them.

Our two leads, both female, have come to the city from a smaller city many hours away. One came a long time ago, and one just recently. You see the before and after effects. The seasoned, hardened mature woman, and the fresh-faced acolyte.

You never see any of the students sketching things. Yet you would think that architecture majors would be constantly drafting. There is very little discussion about buildings or urban planning.

But there is plenty of narration about the neighborhoods of the city as experienced by the young lead. The mature woman is done with this city and the country. That's an important part of the story.

The combined forces of a complex and perhaps suffocating culture, and her personal baggage have beat her down.

There is no action in this movie whatsoever, nor sex. It is strictly discussions, arguments, crying, and philosophical observations.

The main characters feel torn between obligation, and the yearning to be free. People who make movies are generally liberal and sometimes free spirits.

So don't be surprised that this film presents traditional religion as burdensome to women. Some may find it offensive. There is some graphic symbolization.

Casting was impressive. The mature lead has a gravitas about her that draws you in. The young one is radiant.

The cinematography is excellent. There are interesting shots of the city and creative angles.

But be ready for potential boredom too. Because there is an enormous amount of talking, shots of people listening or thinking, and crying.

Turkey is an ancient place. Let's hear more about what exactly plagues the city and country, that is driving out one lead and baffling the other.