Schultze, Manfred, and Jürgen sit
around a table with their new retirement gifts — atrocious lamps described as
both “nice” and “salty.” In the days that follow this early departure from the
working world, these three buddies will settle into their daily routine of
fishing, quaffing, bickering, and, in the cases of Manfred and Jürgen,
irritating their wives. But we know from the title of this movie that life has
other plans for Schultze.
Schultze Gets the Blues (opens Friday,
March 25, at the Little Theatre), the adorable first feature by German
writer-director Michael Schorr, is a combination of two genres: the
fish-out-of-water movie and the twilight epiphany. As Schultze (Horst Krause)
plods around the house one evening, the avid accordion player turns on the
radio and hears some hot zydeco sounds. It’s apparent from his reaction that he
never thought the accordion was used for anything beyond polkas and other
tankard-hoisting music, but soon this reticent man is busting out the Cajun
tunes and fixing jambalaya for his pals.
Schultze has been getting ready for a
concert and wants to share this music that has burrowed into his soul with
others. His friends are supportive, as is his doctor (“It’s definitely not
life-threatening not playing a polka for once”), but the rest of Germany may
not be ready for it.
As serendipity would have it, Schultze
is chosen to represent his town at an American Oktoberfest. He packs up his
accordion and heads to Texas, where this man of few words — German or English
— makes new friends (the image of the Weeble-shaped Schultze wearing his tiny
bikini into the motel hot tub is unforgettable, no matter how hard you try) and
falls in love with the seductive Gulf Coast and its generous inhabitants.
There’s not much action in Schultze — it’s a quiet, introspective
movie about a man who discovers more about himself in a matter of weeks than in
his entire life up to that point. It’s lovingly photographed, with meandering
shots of people contemplating things — and in the case of the Southern
yokels, it’s usually the camera. But the low-tech vibe only adds to its
slice-of-life quality and makes you feel like more of a participant than an
observer.
It’s not surprising to come across
movies by Americans that are basically love letters to foreign lands, being
that most artists would chew their leg off for a chance to escape from the
United Red States of America. But a film from another country that makes this
one look good? I doubt the world is crawling with… um… Yankophiles (is there
even a word for foreigners who like the US?), so we should probably take it
where we can get it.
I should
probably confess
that I’ve avoided the films of British director Ken Loach for some time now. I
have nothing personal against him, but I’m usually of the narrow mindset that
when the agenda factor goes up, the chance for entertainment plummets. Loach’s
films throughout his multi-decade career have traditionally been rooted in
various social, religious, and political issues, so I’ve always assumed they
would be dull and preachy. Apparently, however, when Loach couches his views in
a well-written love story with attractive, complex characters and a couple of
steamy scenes, my ignorance takes a much-needed holiday.
In Æ Fond Kiss(Friday, March 25, 8 p.m., Dryden Theatre, 271-4090),
Casim (Atta Yaqub) and Roisin (Eva Birthistle) meet cute after Casim and his
younger sister Tahara (Shabana Bakhsh) chase some bullies into Roisin’s
classroom. Casim, the son of a Pakistani immigrant, works in his family’s
grocery store and harbors entrepreneurial dreams of his own while he DJs at a
club. He’s intrigued by the Irish Catholic music teacher, and it’s not long
before they’re thoroughly entangled. What Casim neglects to mention to Roisin
at the outset, however, is that an arranged marriage to his cousin in Pakistan
is imminent.
Casim faces a difficult choice: Stay
with Roisin and devastate his stubborn father (a heartbreaking Ahmad Riaz) or
marry a virtual stranger and embrace what is essentially a foreign way of life.
Tahara is looking to break away as well, having secretly applied to school in
Edinburgh rather than at home in Glasgow. Only older sister Rukhsana (Ghizala
Avan) seems to be willing to adhere to tradition, with an impending arranged
marriage of her own that she will go to cruel lengths to ensure.
And Roisin has her own battles to
fight. She needs the approval of her parish priest in order for her temporary
position at the Catholic school to become permanent. But she’s not yet divorced
from her estranged husband and living with her Muslim boyfriend, and this
priest pulls no punches in reminding Roisin what being Catholic entails.
Most culture-clash movies have but one
outcome — tradition is vital, but evolution is unavoidable. And most romances
are pretty clear-cut in that it’s obvious what should happen. Of course we want
to see love prevail, but as Casim tells Roisin, “It’s not about love. It’s much
more than that.”
At its heart, Æ Fond Kiss could be considered a Romeo and Juliet type of tale, with its against-all-odds lovers
from different backgrounds forsaking everything to be together. But while the
end of Romeo and Juliet is actually
the end of Romeo and Juliet, you’re left with a feeling of unease at the
conclusion of Æ Fond Kiss that Casim
and Roisin’s tidy wrap-up is actually neither of those things.
This article appears in Mar 23-29, 2005.
