Having to wait around all day while my car was getting a much-needed overhaul (3 trips to SoCal in the last couple of months), I took the city's jitney shuttle downtown, visited the library, had lunch. Finding I needed yet more time, then I wandered over to the last remaining weekday downtown moviehouse to see what was on.
I had two choices. Eschewing the one with Susan Sarandon as a woman who's driving her daughter crazy - I saw that plot when it had Shirley MacLaine, and I didn't like it then - I went for Dough, a feeble British comedy with Jonathan Pryce as an old Orthodox Jewish baker who, lacking any other assistance in his small shop, hires his cleaning woman's son. They are black Muslims from Africa, so cue a lot of ethnic and religious sparks. The son is also, unknown to his mother, a pot dealer, and one day hides his stash in the boss's bread dough. The challah becomes very popular that week, and the bakery starts going gangbusters until, inevitably, he's found out.
Also, the baker is a widower devoted to his wife's memory, and his landlady is a widow who bats her eyes at him in the manner of Angela Lansbury playing Mrs. Lovett.
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