Cast: Severdzan Bajram, Florijan Ajdini, Salija Ibraimova, Branka Katic, Srdjan Todorovic, Zabit Memedov, Sabri Sulejman, Jasar Destani
Director: Emir Kusturica
Producer: Karl Baumgartner
Screenplay: Emir Kusturica, Gordan Mihic
Cinematography: Thierry Arbogast
Music: Voja Aralica, Dr. Nele Karajlic, Dejo Sparavalo
U.S. Distributor: USA Films
In Serbo-Croatian with subtitles
One of the most often heard complaints of critics and frequent movie-goers is that too many movies look alike. There's no newness, no sense of discovery, no originality. Films follow safe, comfortable patterns because that's what the studios' research shows that audiences want. Why else would something as idiotic as Armageddon be the top-grossing movie of 1998? Perhaps it's true that Americans only want to see a film if they've seen it already. Regardless, there are those who enjoy experiencing something fresh and vibrant, and, for anyone who appreciates that kind of fare, Emir Kusturica's Black Cat, White Cat offers a sample.
With all of the horrible things happening in the corner of the world once known as Yugoslavia, it's a pleasant change-of-pace to discover a comedy that transpires there. Set in the heart of a gypsy community, Black Cat, White Cat (so named for two animals that make frequent appearances) is a delightfully madcap romp featuring colorful characters, no holds barred humor, and a lively soundtrack. There's almost no political agenda, unless you count the occasional comment about the local discrimination against gypsies.
Matko Destanov (Severdzan Bajram) is a middle-aged con artist who makes his living by scamming people. In the words of one character, Matko is "a swindler, a hoodlum, and a vagabond." There's no doubt that he's an odd sort of person - one of his favorite pastimes is playing poker with himself - and he's not very good at his chosen "profession." More often than not, he ends up losing money, like when he pays for diesel fuel and comes away with drums of colored water. Matko has a 17-year old son, Zare (Florijan), who is in love with a blond waitress, Ida (Branka Katic). After letting Zare pursue her for a while, Ida finally gives in to his advances, just as Matko announces that he has arranged a marriage for his son as a way to pay off a debt to a lunatic business associate. Dadan (Srdjan Todorovic) wants to find a suitable husband for his sister, Afrodita (Salija Ibraimova), but her short stature has proven to be a stumbling block. Further complications arise when the son of a local gangster decides that Afrodita is his soul-mate. The ensuing wedding, complete with two deaths, multiple vows, and an outhouse incident that makes the grossest scene in Lost & Found look clean by comparison, is an example of choreographed chaos that only an accomplished director could orchestrate. It is easily one of the most bizarre celebrations ever committed to celluloid.
Comparisons with There's Something About Mary (perhaps crossed with Latcho Drom) are not as unreasonable as they might at first seem. "Normal" characters are at a premium (the only two fitting that bill are Zare and Ida, and they're borderline), misfits are everywhere, and the tone is often frantic. No issue is too somber or sacred for Kusturica to poke fun at, and he is gleefully uncaring about who he offends, as long as the joke gets a laugh. The outhouse incident is a prime example, as is the unique way in which Matko and Dadan join forces to preserve two dead bodies so the wedding can go on. And, on top of everything else, the love story between Zare and Ida is genuinely sweet and touching.
Black Cat, White Cat has an earthy feel to it. Although expertly filmed, it lacks the polished glaze of most big budget features, but that's part of its charm. It's an entirely original comedy - some of the elements are familiar, but, taking things as a whole, I can't recall seeing anything exactly like Black Cat, White Cat. That's not to say it's a perfect movie. It suffers from, among other things, one of the most common diseases of '90s motion pictures: a tendency to run too long. A little judicious pruning would have improved the film's pace and avoided the one or two lulls that are present.
The actors, none of whom I'm familiar with, all fill their parts nicely. Special mention goes to Severdzan Bajram, whose Matko is a likable rogue, and Branka Katic, who has a luminous screen presence. And, as is almost always the case with films set in gypsy communities, the music is lively and infectious. Black Cat, White Cat features three standout numbers that almost made me want to get up and dance with the characters on screen. So, while not a masterpiece, Kusturica's latest film is a real treat for those in search of a healthy dose of laughter set in a culture whose intricacies are rarely captured on film.
© 1999 James Berardinelli