Istanbul Ansiklopedisi

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.

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 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.

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.