Hammam, le bain turc

I went to see this film knowing nothing about it whatsoever. From the first heart-wrenching musical note to the heart-breaking end ... I was mesmerized.

The actors are beautiful. They exude intelligent sexuality (if there is such a thing). There is the sense of being entrapped in a circular miserable existence with all the money and the necessities of life but no soul... A married couple works out their banal existence; evolves.

The magic of Turkey and the showering of loving hospitality is reflective of the people from that part of the world. This film is honest, romantic, sensual, intelligent, serene and detailed. This film should have won it's well-deserved Oscar!

This is a wonderful film about happiness and love, not some sex film. Finding your true place in life physically as well as emotionally is the theme. Everything is beautiful about this movie, the people, the love between the two men and the between the family and Francesco. Great performances by the cast, especially Alessandro Gassman. Beautiful scenes of Istanbul, which I am sure is not seen by the usual tourist.

I loved this movie and highly recommend it.

A special film For the side of Istanbul, for delicat portrait of love, for inspired performances, for flavors and words and tension and the meet with a form of happiness out of any definition. A film about love. The flavors of cinnamon, the clash between worlds, the precise portrait of emotions are real admirable. Sure, a visual delight but, more important, wise exploration of an universe great for its subtle beauty and splendid delicacy. A film who I love. For the seeds remaining after its end and for the flowers of memories about it. Alessandro Gassman gives, in authentic manner, a profound seductive performance.

First off the bat, the homosexual suggestive advertising of this film is misleading: it was not the central theme nor occupy any more than a second's brief moment.

This film actually has a very poignant way of telling a story, which is set in Istanbul (this was what drew me to see this film as I remembered my visit to Turkey and fascinated by the city of Istanbul), and Istanbul is really the central backbone of this movie. Story unfolds in a very ordinary everyday way, and through out the film, yes, things just unfold and nothing is presented elaborately – no fuss no emphasis – they all come across in subtle nuances. One recurring activity is eating: breakfast, family dinner at home, dining at a restaurant -- the colorful food on the table, and the people at the table --- it's all happening in a casual simple everyday manner. Yes, it's like you're there with them -- the ‘regular' streets and neighborhood of Istanbul the city that tourists do not see. Meanwhile layers of emotions subtly unraveling and the central characters: Francesco and his wife, Marta, each of their own feelings go through stages of change…through each of their experiences of Istanbul and Francesco's aunt Anita's words… It all come together…and you will enjoy this film. An ordinary extraordinary film this is.

I agree with those who comment that marketing this as a gay film is an indulgence in false pretenses, but I and my friends have enjoyed this thoughtful, beautifully filmed parable of self-discovery as a parable for the coming-out process. The vagueness and the fact that so much of the story is told through glances, gazes, and shimmering vistas of Old Istanbul means that everyone can bring their own story along with them to illuminate the hints and nuances of this remarkable film.

The ensemble performances were very powerful, and I honestly couldn't find any false notes here, though the atmosphere of Mediterranean melodrama at the film's sudden and somewhat awkwardly contrived conclusion seemed a little heavy and perhaps unnecessary as an ending to the serenity of the film as a whole.

I quite liked the music, and I enjoyed the director's eye for everyday details in a landscape that is very exotic to a North American filmgoer--reminiscent of The Scent of Green Papaya, or Raise the Red Lantern.