An afternoon in
a hamam gets under your skin – literally.
Dripping water tinkles on mosaic basins, interesting faces appears here
and there, and the heat and moisture open your pores. Hamam are the
intoxicating concentration of Istanbul’s uniquely syrupy charisma,
and are best enjoyed on a cold and drizzly afternoon.
Hamam can, however, get a little boring. If a couple of well-built
young Turkish guys don’t turn up, the second hour can make you a bit
restless, as by then you’ve had a good steam, and now you want to get
out and do something, and all that tinkling water starts to get on your
nerves. It’s somehow appropriate, then, that Hamam
the film has pretty much the same cycle. It’s gorgeous and warm, with a
subtle story, simmering sexiness, and a palette of honey-bronzes, golds
and dark browns. It’s also a bit too slow, and you may find yourself
getting up to make some apple tea during the second half, without
pressing pause.
Francesco (Gassman) is a married but unsettled Italian who travels to
Istanbul alone to inspect a derelict hamam his late aunt has left him
in her will. His autocratic wife, Marta (d’Aloja) stays in Italy
crunching numbers and sealing deals. Marta expects Francesco to quickly
sell the property for as much profit as possible and return home within
a week. Francesco’s return is delayed, though, by his increasing
fascination with his aunt’s life, told in dozens of unopened letters
that she wrote to her estranged sister – Francesco’s mother – over a
many year period after she had permanently moved to Turkey. Francesco
decides to keep the hamam, and refurbish it. This conflicts with the
ambition of an Istanbul property magnate, who wants to secure the
property so she can bulldoze the block and erect high-density modern
housing. Francesco also embarks on a tentative affair with Mehmet
(Gunsur), a handsome local, unaware that Marta, who’s also having an
affair, is heading to Istanbul to finalise the property deal and her
dead marriage.
The love affair between the two men is the film’s high point, it’s the
strongest storyline and the one that seems to hold the film together.
As it takes place primarily in the hamam itself, it’s also a great
visual motif for the film’s themes of memory, love, and the bewitching
power of foreign exotica. The rest of the film does tend to sag, and
the melodramatic climax is incongruous and almost silly. d’Aloja’s
imperious and compelling Marta threatens to overpower the film, but
frustratingly she’s been edited down to size, her good scenes pruned
and her less interesting moments expanded. It’s sometimes interesting
to see the goings on of old-fashioned Istanbul, with head-scarfed
housewives yelling gossip at each other across cat-prowled laneways,
but these scenes tend towards slapstick and stereotype and throw the
film off balance.
Gassman and Gunsur are an attractive pair, and a smoky, arty, film that
doesn’t neon light it’s gay lovers and parade them around as polemic
gay pride objects is always going to be a superior film to something
like, say, All
Over The Guy. However, Hamam
does drift quite a bit, and probably could have done with a bit less
steam and shadow.
