Safa Habimana, a Muslim immigrant in Britain who struggles to make ends meet, hopes that she and her troubled teenage son, Ayyash, will reunite with her husband one day. However, with lots of time on his hands, Ayyash will soon find the police on his doorstep--and as a result--his desperate mother will need to take some drastic measures. So, without delay, Safa sets up an appointment with Nat, her Jewish boss and the neighbourhood's baker, to beg him to take her son as an apprentice. Of course, new beginnings are usually hard at first; but, little by little, as Nat's business starts to flourish thanks to a revolutionary recipe, a strong bond will develop between them. But, do they know that problems are just around the corner?Written by
Regards sur le Cinéma Européen - Prix du Public - John Goldschmidt - 2016. See more »
There is a sign in the bakery that says, "All our goods are baked on premises as yosan". Although the word "yosan" is supposed to be transliteration of a Hebrew word, it is still misspelled. The word is commonly spelled "yoshon", which in Jewish law refers to when certain types of grains are planted and take root in relation to the calendar year. 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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