Ferzan Özpetek
Rosso Istanbul

Strange as it may sound, but it's true: not even a single review exists here of Özpetek's 15 films or any of his other works. Well, (someone's got to do the dirty work), so let's fill this gap, shall we?

I mainly watched this film because I was curious to see Istanbul again (I first visited back in '85 after leaving Venice by car with a friend from Milan whom I haven't seen or heard from since), or rather to see Istanbul through the eyes of a Turk—in this case, the skilled director and writer Ferzan Özpetek (the same age as me), about whom I don’t know much except for what I’ve picked up from the media over time and thanks also to a great interview I listened to a few weeks ago in an interesting podcast.

To be honest, from Özpetek I’d only seen his debut film (rented back in '97) “Il Bagno Turco – Hamam” with Alessandro Gassman, music by soundtrack composers Pivio and Aldo De Scalzi (the one from the New Trolls). I don't know about his other films, but the theme of homosexuality seems central to many (if not all) of his works, including this one.

In this film, based on the novel of the same name written by Özpetek four years prior, the story revolves around a disappearance following the reunion of two friends: one who has been living in London as a publisher and writer for about ten years after a self-imposed exile due to a tragic accident; the other has stayed in Istanbul working as a director, and calls his old friend to review the drafts of his first (autobiographical) novel, which he has just finished writing.

We're immediately pulled into a kind of mystery, resulting from the director’s disappearance after a night of drinking on the shores of the sea in Istanbul. The writer friend, a longtime teetotaler by choice, remembers almost nothing of that evening—not the encounters nor the events—because of too much alcohol.

The events unfold rapidly after the disappearance, which no one can make sense of: there is no trace, not even a farewell note. Everything hangs upon the memories of acquaintances, men and women, relatives and friends, the director’s lovers, and the book where he recorded the memories of his life, as well as a computer that the director’s mother allows the publisher friend to consult.

There are many emblematic events (without spoiling anything), from the last party where almost all the main characters meet, to love stories about to begin or already ended, visits to the morgue, deaths by drowning, as well as real or supposed suicides—all without any violence. There’s someone who uses heroin, someone reconciling broken relationships, someone making peace with themselves, and someone trying to swim across the strait of this mysterious city (of more than fifteen million inhabitants), which was once old Constantinople, challenging its currents.

The music is by Giuliano Taviani, son of director Vittorio—ehm, a surname, a guarantee, and that’s it.