Safa Habimana is an immigrant in Britain who is struggling to make ends meet, with the hope that one day, she and her teenage son will reunite with her husband. On the other hand, her son, Ayyash, a troubled young Muslim with lots of time in his hands, has no interest in anything else except on how to spend the time with his friends and make some easy money. And then, by a bit of bad luck and bad timing, the Police will come on Ayyash's doorstep, forcing the desperate Safa to take drastic measures. Without delay, she will set up an appointment with Nat, a Jew baker for whom she works for, asking him to take her son as an apprentice. Naturally, beginnings are usually hard at first, but as time moves on, Nat's business will start flourishing, while a strong bond will develop between the two men. However, unbeknownst to them, problems are just around the corner. Written by
Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival 2015 - Best Comedy. Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival 2016 - Audience Award. See more »
At the beginning of the film, Ayyash asks his friends why he'd be walking around with no pants on. In the UK, "pants" refers to what Americans call "underwear." While many Americanisms and word meanings have traveled to the UK, "pants" has not yet changed meaning to refer to trousers. See more »
Race and religion are irrelevant. If you're a dickhead, then you're a dickhead.
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It is impossible to imagine a worse, more infantile, unbelievable, patronizing film, replete with stereotyped Jews, struggling worshipful Muslims, unlikable characters, an impossible story, no setting whatsoever except the interior of 2 or 3 rooms, dull, predictable click clock pacing, a story-line that telegraphs all its moves, a theme that appeals to dreamy- eyed do-gooder clueless fantasists, a few clever Jewish jokes out of the 1950s, a nauseatingly 2-dimensional sex-starved, probably deodorant-soaked Jewish widow, a feel-good ending you could sense from the first minute, and a generally pandering quality that pervades every scene, act, line of dialogue, the musical soundtrack and the finalizing madcap idiocy that the director hopes will be acceptable as a substitute for action and guffaws. This travesty of comedy looks like it might've been a a term paper shot with dad's camera by a 10th grader studying film, and might've earned a C+ from a generous teacher nearing retirement. Reportedly, it was the only entry in the "Good Jews should be nice to bad Muslims" Film Festival that did not cause the judges to vomit up their pork sliders. All in all, I give it a Yucchh+
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