Steam: The Turkish Bath (1997)

Francesco and Marta are an Italian pair. They fight constantly, are unfaithful to each other, and take the other as a rival. But they are a married couple like Pope wants it. Both yearn for a change. An aunt dies and leaves a fortune but it is in Turkey. Francesco leaves for Istanbul. He finds a different kind of life, men who are more sensitive and able to listen each other, to share experiences, and eager to listen. He finds Mehmet, in years younger but humanly more mature. Mehmet's family and friends open Francesco's eyes to a world more friendly, more meaningful and full of tasks better scaled for a man. He also finds out that man and woman may live together but without family are doomed to be unhappy: they eat each other out. He falls in love with Mehmet. Marta follows to Istanbul and finds out the change. Her pride and her title to marriage are hurt but she also feels certain freedom. Francesco dies later and Marta understands her aunt's letters: as a free woman in Turkey she needs no men to be paired with. Men and women are citizens of same planet but their life are only parallel to each other, not together.

Fmovies: This movie was not at all what I expected. The way it was being advertised, one would have thought it was nothing more than a bunch of hot guys getting it on in a steam room. But this movie wasn't even close to being that shallow.

The story is very bittersweet, about two people finally finding themselves only to lose it in the end. There is no conventional happy ending here, but I cannot decide if it is a sad ending. You'll have to see for yourself. Definitely a must see for anyone, gay or straight. The story is the thing here. If you're looking for sex of any kind, you might as well look elsewhere.

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.

Steam: The Turkish Bath fmovies. 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.

I like a movie that has a distinct climax, yet is easy to overlook or perhaps miss altogether. The climax of Hamam is when Francesco hands his wife the letters from his aunt and asks that she send them back when she's finished reading them. It is a seemingly small, inconsequential gesture -- but an act of conviction that describes a person's inner workings far more than could ever be achieved with an abundance of words. It is truly a beautiful moment -- one of many -- and a reason this is a film worth viewing.