Istanbul-Enzyklopädie

Istanbul Ansiklopedisi is not a documentary-it's a quiet act of remembrance. Watching it feels like walking through a half-forgotten dream, where every alley and voice holds a story you didn't know you missed. It's not about nostalgia for the sake of beauty; it's about memory, identity, and the layers we live on without always noticing.

There's no rush, no dramatization. Instead, the film lets Istanbul speak through people, places, and pauses. Its rhythm is slow but steady-like the city's own heartbeat. You don't just learn about Istanbul; you feel its breath, its wounds, its wit.

By the end, I felt like I had been handed a photo album with no captions-just moments, quietly powerful and impossibly familiar. It's a love letter, not to the city we see, but to the city we sense-just under the surface, still whispering.

This isn't a film that tells you what to feel-it gently asks you to remember. Not a plot-driven narrative, but more like wandering through an old photo album left out in the sun. Faded, tender, real.

The camera lingers on streets that don't speak, yet say everything. It listens to walls, to dust, to the silence of forgotten corners. You begin to realize: this isn't just about a city-it's about time. Memory. Absence.

There's no urgency. No drama. Just quiet. And in that quiet, you hear something you didn't know you'd been missing.

It left me still. Like I'd just walked out of somewhere sacred. I didn't feel nostalgia-I felt mourning. Not only for what's gone, but for what we stopped noticing. A soft ache. A gentle reminder that even cities have souls... and sometimes, they need to be heard.

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.

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.

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.