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
Dough's tagline "You don't have to be baked to make some Dough" (and poster layout) is a parody of Levy Rye's "You don't have to be Jewish to love Levy's real Jewish Rye" campaign from the '60s. See more »
After Ayyash is forced to dump some pot when police come into the bakery and it gets mixed into some dough, he waits for the mix to finish and looks through the dough hoping to recover the pot. As the mixer finishes, the dough ball is on the bottom of the bowl and not wound around the dough hook attachment as it would need to be to actually get mixed. See more »
Race and religion are irrelevant. If you're a dickhead, then you're a dickhead.
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Composed by Gerhard Narholz
Published by Sonotan Music GmbH & Co. KG
Vivatone Editions Cavendish Music Co. Ltd. See more »
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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