Arts & Events

Dough: Bagels and Pot Make for a Guaranteed Hit

Gar Smith
Thursday April 28, 2016 - 04:23:00 PM

Opens at the Landmark Albany Two on April 29

The appearance of Dough marks another great leap for humankind. Not since Cheech and Chong have marijuana buds had such a co-starring role in a major pop film.

(Related question: How did the East Bay Express NOT review this film? After all, the EBX's current issue devotes the equivalent of three full pages to nothing but pot ads.)

Start with your basic ingredients: Elderly Jewish grandfather (the priceless Jonathan Pryce as grey-bearded Nat Dayan) runs a Kosher bakery in London's East End; the business is called Dayan and Son, but the baker's son is a successful lawyer, estranged from the baking tradition and from his father; the building is owned by a widow who has eyes for Nat but wants to sell the building; out of desperation, Nat hires a teenage refugee from Darfur (compelling newcomer Jerome Holder as Ayyash) as an apprentice in his shop; but, unknown to his mom, Ayyash already has a part-time gig—selling weed in London's shadow economy.

 

 

 

Two unlikely characters—elderly Jew, young Muslim—are brought together by a clever script. Two unlikely ingredients—challah and ganja—are similarly merged. It happens when Ayyash panics as two cops approach the bakery and (not finding any toilets within flushing range) tosses his stash into a big metal blender slowly stirring the baking dough. 

Hilarity ensues as unsuspecting customers get the buzz. Bridge parties dissolve in giggles. Family meals bubble over with atypical merriment as everyone from grandpa to the cute little grandkid cuts loose with one ribald joke after another. 

But there are villains in the Dough mix as well. A greedy developer and a vengeful drug kingpin provide some creepy plot turns. One villain is out to destroy the bakery; the other is out to get Ayyash. 

In a familiar story arc, Nat and Ayyash start out with absolutely nothing in common. From distrustful and dismissive suspicion (with quick taints of racist slams—"stupid Jew," "you people") they slowly bond over the breadboard. (Nothing like the mutual pummeling of unbaked bread to work out ingrained social kinks and find common ground.) And before you know it, Nat has found the son his business and life have been lacking and Ayyash finds a trustworthy substitute for his own missing dad (most likely a victim of Darfur's murderous Janjaweed militia). 

Along its merry and kvetching way, Dough hits a peak with stoner moments of high comedy and plumbs some depths with flashes of anger and lots of flying baked goods and breaking glass. 

Following a well-trod narrative road, the two unlikely friends become close, only to be estranged by misunderstandings. They react with painful insults and storm off in separate directions. And, just as certainly, fate—and a screenwriter—brings them back together so they can realize anew how much they really need each other. 

Even the religious practices that were initially a cause of friction (Nat is uncomfortable every time Ayyash interrupts his early morning baking chores to greet the dawn by bowing on a prayer mat) become mutually supportive. 

In one classic bit of buddy-pic tomfoolery, Nat and Ayyash decide to stage a "robbery" involving a box full of muffins but wind up mixing their muffins. This leads to a forced, quick decision that will determine their destinies. It's crunch time. So how do they handle it? Both take a deep breath. Ayyash utters a prayer in Arabic and Nat follows with a prayer in Hebrew. The message: We Are All One. 

Well, at least Ayyash and Nat are. 

Predictably, a Hollywood ending justifies the memes. 

Dough's a tasty 94-minute morsel. Light and not too filling. In two words: challah fun.