The Turkish Coffee Table (2025) Review

When Ibrahim (Alper Kul) insists on buying a coffee table which his wife Zehra (Algi Eke) thinks is hideous, he sets to work assembling it in their apartment while she heads off to do some grocery shopping. However, disaster strikes and the centrepiece becomes the trigger for an escalating nightmare of lies and deception…

I previously reviewed the original La Mesita Del Comedor for a different outlet and, in line with that, I’m unable to reveal the inciting event of this jet black comedy horror because it’s not just a spoiler, it will ruin the genuine shock for anyone who has either not viewed the previous movie or read any plot details about either that version or this one. For those who have seen it, it’s the same gut punch deployed in the Caye Casas film, which, for hardened survivors of that cinematic pummelling, comes with its own inbuilt sense of dread as you know just what’s approaching this time round.

Once that’s happened, the rest of the story plays out in similar fashion, with Ibrahim’s brother and girlfriend arriving for a meal and Ibrahim wondering how to deal with the increasingly fraught situation, exacerbated by seventeen year old neighbour Sibel (Elif Sevinç) wanting Ibrahim to come clean about a supposedly passionate exchange which took place between them in the lift. The main points of the story play out in similar fashion to the Spanish film until the final act, which heads off to spin its own take on the ultimate reveals and lands an ending which skews somewhat more darkly comic, grim and absurd.

Kul is, I’m reliably informed, a well-known comedian in his homeland, so this is a departure for him and a chance to flex his acting chops. He’s excellent, subtly playing up the humour in the opening department store sequence before plunging into an escalating nightmare of his own making and landing all of the crucial dramatic beats, cleverly allowing the viewer to sympathise with his dreadful plight while frustrating them with his various deceptions in an attempt to stave off the moment where the inevitable truth will come crashing down upon him.

Eke is equally impressive as Zehra, an unfailingly capable wife and mother with a keen sense of fun and a readiness to prick any kind of pomposity. She’s also smart enough to realise when she’s having the wool pulled over her eyes and, as the dinner party rolls on, Eke’s deft playing swings between sympathy for her psychologically crumbling husband and a pragmatism concerning a situation which clearly isn’t normal and generates its own rising sense of worry.

With this remake coming relatively hot on the heels of its forerunner, one question that could be asked is: who is this for?  For cinema fans, it’s a chance to compare and contrast – it’s not the almost shot for shot remake exercise of Van Sant’s Psycho – and for everyone else is a chance to experience that WTF moment for themselves. In the wider context of Turkish cinema, Evrenol is attempting to usher in a new wave of movie making and deserves to succeed. It’s less overtly brutal than, say, Baskin or Sayara but it’s no less powerful.

Ultimately, The Turkish Coffee Table offers a few new wrinkles on its Spanish predecessor but doesn’t stray far enough from the OG to truly stand out as a bold reimagining. However, the pacing is just as precise, the performances are uniformly impressive and the retention of its central disaster is key to the disintegration of Ibrahim’s comfortable, suburban existence while also removing the element of utter shock to those who recall picking their jaw up off the floor at Casas’ unflinching moment of taboo-breaking terror. Add one star to the rating if this is your first time at this terrible table.

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Movie Rating: