Hammam, le bain turc

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.

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.

So let's restrict ourselves to the most beautiful shot. The closing scene, I think. Here we find yet another of the main characters we have started to know throughout the story, being sucked into the gentle, demanding, chaotic, smoky, colourful and slow whirlpool that is this movie's Istanbul. An antique cigarette holder, a loved-one's sweater, and a calm, steady gaze over the Bosphorus. Representative, in its way, for the entire film. Understatement at its finest.

In the US, this film is being 'pitched' as a film about sexuality. In truth, that is not the film's focus. The main character travels to Turkey and undergoes an unexpected personal transformation. Part of this transformation has to do with same-gender sexuality. But you will enjoy the film much more if you forget about that entirely, and let the story unfold.

I think that the film's main characteristic is that it is subtle. The main character is not shouting his confusion from the rooftops; the viewer is left to draw conclusions from glances and actions (or the lack thereof). Some self-reflection comes in the form of letters that his aunt wrote to his mother, with the implication that he feels the same way.

Steam, or Hamam, is about suddenly finding one's "home", and being willing to accept that discovery and embrace it.

Istanbul has always been my favorite city. Not just because I live there. But I guess the reasons are best "felt" in this movie. Hamam, not only tells us what traditions originally are (not restricting rules, but guidelines to keep senses, the family and the body together), but also reminds us the mystique remains of a city, where nothing is considered wrong, where life just floats along the steam of the Hamam.

Beautiful and sensual, Hamam is a soft and relaxing movie, like its title suggests.