Encyclopédie d'Istanbul

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.

The cultural revelations, struggles, depth of message is why I give this series a high rating. That said, several times in the earlier episodes I almost quit watching / almost blocked it; The level of anger, rage, yelling in the earlier episodes by many many of the characters was not well done. That said: Something of great value kept me viewing. I glad I stuck it out. Had it not been on Netflix where I could fast forward past the abusive personalities/ characters, which so many of them are, I'm not sure I would have made it to the excellent experience of what is definitely a series that expanded my understanding of the inner turmoil and choices of Muslim women and the hijab, as well as the nearly set in stone negative projections they have on each other within their culture. This series opens doors of pondering wtihin myself no doubt for many weeks, maybe years forward. I'm willing to consider that what I frame as unnecessary yelling and abuse between characters, I don't know, might be the behind closed doors norm of that country/ culture. TV series and Movies are an exaggeration, so I'm concerned that if I"m drawing this reflexive conclusion, others might also reflexively frame it this way as well. Therefore I continue to undo that reflesive frame, remind myself that it's only one screenwriter's norm or story, and that other TV series / movies as well depend on the adrenalin component of yelling and abuse to keep interest. Kudos to Netflix for including so many international options to view.

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 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.

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.