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Germany/France/Yugoslavia/Austria 1998
Reviewed by John Wrathall
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Yugoslavia, the present. Planning the theft of a trainload of petrol, Matko Destanov secures financial backing from gypsy godfather Grga Pitic, and enlists the help of gangster Dadan Karambolo. But when the train arrives, Dadan drugs Matko and steals the money and petrol for himself. Unaware it was Dadan who ripped him off, Matko must agree to the gangster's demand for compensation: an arranged marriage between Matko's son Zare and Dadan's unmarriageable sister Afrodita, nicknamed Bubamara (Ladybird) on account of her tiny stature. This is a disaster for Zare, who is in love with Ida, a local waitress. Meanwhile, the equally unwilling Bubamara dreams of falling in love with a tall stranger.
Just before the wedding, Matko's father Zarije dies but Dadan refuses to delay the wedding for the funeral. Instead, he persuades Matko to hide Zarije's corpse in the attic. During the party after the wedding, Zare helps Bubamara escape. While fleeing through a wood Bubamara meets and instantly falls in love with Grga Pitic's grandson Grga Veliki, who is bringing his grandfather to pay his respects to his old friend Zarije. Grga Pitic makes peace, arranging for Grga Veliki to marry Bubamara, leaving Zare free to marry Ida. But before the joint wedding takes place, Grga Pitic dies. He too is hidden in the attic so the ceremony can go ahead. Just before the wedding, the two old men come back to life. Zare sabotages the outdoor lavatory so that Dadan falls into a cesspit. Zare and Ida kidnap the registrar and set off down the Danube. They are married on the boat.
In 1995, worn down by the controversy surrounding his last film Underground, which was widely (and unfairly) pilloried for its allegedly pro-Serbian take on Yugoslavia's descent into chaos, Emir Kusturica announced his retirement from film-making. For his comeback - hardly unexpected, given that he was only 41 when he threw in the towel - the Sarajevo-born director has chosen to make a comedy deliberately designed to steer clear of the internecine politics of his divided homeland. Described by Kusturica as his first movie in a major key, Black Cat White Cat returns to the milieu of his best-loved film Time of the Gypsies, and uses the same screenwriter, Gordan Mihic, and several cast members from that film. Once again a young innocent, here Florijan Ajdini's Zare, falls foul of the dodgy deals of a roguish gypsy godfather against a backdrop teeming with all the director's hallmarks: wandering bands, flocks of geese, Heath Robinson-type contraptions and chaotic weddings.
At one point the gangster Dadan is jokingly referred to as a war criminal. But beyond the implication that Serbia is now run by men like him, there's nothing else in Black Cat White Cat to suggest the turmoil of Yugoslavia's recent history. This was clearly Kusturica's intention. But the refusal to countenance anything but 'fun' has resulted in a marked coarsening of his style, giving the film a mood of forced jollity. If his previous work thrived on the tension between the contrasting styles of his three avowed idols - Tarkovsky, Fellini and Leone - it's Tarkovsky who has been sacrificed here. (The absence of Goran Bregovic's haunting music, following a feud between the director and his regular composer over credits on the soundtrack CD of Underground, is another factor.) Without the sudden flights into lyricism and tragedy which made his earlier work so extraordinary, Black Cat White Cat risks turning into Carry On Kusturica - not least in the long, relentlessly raucous interlude involving a diva who extracts nails from blocks of wood with her arse as she sings.
That's not to say the film is ever dull. Shot on the banks of the Danube by ace French cinematographer Thierry Arbogast (best known for his work with Luc Besson), it has a breezy, open-air feel, especially in the rapturous scene where Zare and Ida make love in a field of sunflowers. Kusturica gets wonderfully vivid performances out of his largely non-professional cast. And the grotesque Serb techno concocted by Nelle Karajlic, the director's former colleague in the pop group Zabranjeno Pusenje, is a hoot.
However, the film's most memorable images all seem to be either irrelevant diversions (like the pig eating a car) or reruns of previous greatest hits. For instance Bubamara's escape through the woods, concealed under a mobile tree stump, is a repeat of a running gag involving a cardboard box in Time of the Gypsies. The final scene, meanwhile, in which the lovers Zare and Ida float off down the Danube, recalls Underground, with its suggestion that escape is the only happy ending possible in Yugoslavia.