Mein wunderbarer Waschsalon

It bugs me that this movie is the "gay" movie, just like it bugs me when a movie with black people is labeled the "black" movie. What about Mafia movies? Are those for people who are "involved"? What about "Seven" I guess that's a cult classic for serial killers. Come on, a good movie is a good movie. Trust me I identified with Omar - and I'm a straight hispanic girl - probably more than I have with any other character in a movie. This movie is about homosexuality like Charlotte Gray is about hair dye.

This movie is definitely one of my favorites. It is a look a young man (a gorgeous Pakistani named Omar) who basically tries to balance being Pakistani and British at the same time. He wants to have a business and be successful, in that Western capitalist way, and yet he wants to be good to his family and his father in that sense of family loyalty that only those of us from other cultures really understand. Omar asks his uncle to tell stories about his family in Pakistan, yet he doesn't understand his people's language - Urdu, I believe it is. This is a little insight for our white friends about what us "in-betweens" have to go through. Too ethnic for the white people, too white for our own people. It's nice to show the ethnic people looking down on the poor whites, because we do, we look down on low class white people, we have our snobbery too. It may not be right, but it's the truth. It's nice to show the sort of affectionate annoyance Omar found his Papa and Nasser for trying to help him. White people see that as overbearing, something to "escape" from (like Tania, who was the "whitest" of them all) Ethnic people have a sense of humor about it, because we know it means love, and like Omar most of us just choose to quietly listen and ignore their advice rather than make a scene. Omar never makes a scene.

That's what Johnny represents I think, the part of us we keep to ourselves, our passions and desire and those things that are too special to share, kind of like a spiritual belief. It makes their love seem almost sacred because it's too special for them to bring out and expose to the criticism of less enlightened people. It's worth noting that it's Johnny who kisses Omar semi-openly in the street, and it's Omar who doesn't tell his family why he can't marry Tania. I dont think it's so much homophobia as it a cultural difference as to what should be kept private. I could sort of see Johnny in the future demaning Omar tell his family.

Their love scene is gorgeous. When you first see Johnny he seems so rough and coarse and low class, but as he begins to seduce Omar while Omar talks about the past he suddenly seems powerful and sophisticated and . . . and just to see them getting it on on the table. It's very sweet and tender with the frantic kissing and the champange, but my god is it hot.

This certainly is a romantic (and more importantly) positive movie where two men are in love yet have a real conflict between them, and obviously gay men are right to love that, but hey, it works for informing white people, making minorities laugh, British people who grew up during that time, showing idiot homophobes that gay people are just the same as everyone else, DDL fans. Don't just slap the gay label on it and dismiss it!

This colorful slice of lowbrow English life has many things working in its favor: character, ingenuity, humor, and (the essential asset for such a modest production) unpredictability. What it doesn't have is a budget, making the film look and sound like a cheap made-for-TV movie, hardly surprising since it was, in fact, produced for British television (a remarkably permissive institution, by American network standards at the time). But a well-written script doesn't (fortunately) need to cost an arm and a leg, and the perceptive screenplay by Hanif Kureishi has a lot on its mind, tossing off social, sexual, and political commentary with subtle insight and brazen wit. It may seem as if his story, about an unemployed (and otherwise unmotivated) young Pakistani and his amiable Anglo-Punk boyfriend, who conspire to beat the system by opening a trendy, upscale Laundromat using money stolen from a local crime syndicate, relies at times too heavily on idiosyncratic behavior and eccentric charm (other films should have such problems). But it all ends happily ever after, doubly so for director Stephan Frears and actor Daniel Day-Lewis, who were both catapulted into the international arena by the film's success.

Want to see a side of London you won't get from any other director? Then watch My Beautiful Launderette... The film opens with a scene in which squatters are forcibly evicted from a derelict building. Londoner viewers will recognize this as a sad yet common event... Immediately, we are attuned to the political bent of the movie. Fortunately for that intent, the dialogue in the film is intelligently written (note: this will not appeal to the lowest common denominator -- it scores low on commercial appeal). Unfortunately, the often "stiff" delivery of that dialogue is a significant impediment. That said, Daniel Day Lewis lends a powerful presence to his role as the punk squatter, Johnny.

The climax of the film aptly integrates the various tensions in the film: political, sexual, and social. We're surprised with a love scene between Johnny and Omar which is well-paced, erotic, and genuine.

Stephen Frears' film of Hanif Kureshi's script about the Pakistani and the NF punk who grew up as friends, and find themselves attracted to each other again. Gordon Warneke and Daniel Day-Lewis play the lovers in this intelligent movie which has a cheap British tinge but has some superb moments (Saeed Jaffrey as Warneke's uncle, ‘a professional businessman, not a professional Pakistani') within it.

Perhaps the longest-lasting image is the two boys in the back room of the launderette, splashing each other with water, and putting aside the political differences between them. Whether it truly makes its points about race and sexuality I'm not sure.

A rare instance of magic-realism that actually works in the cinema. The realism is a scrupulously observed portrait of 80s London, its people (entrepreneurs, drunks, racists, wide-boys), locales (dingy flats, delapidated laundrettes, murky car lots) and attitudes (strutting capitalism, dessicated liberalism, farcical extremism).

The magic comes from Frears' style, tweaking and heightening the real; from stylised scenes such as Omar's reuniting with Johnny; from some magical set-pieces, especially the opening of the laundrette, Omar and Johnny making love cut with Nasser and Rachel's waltz; from the clashing of an exotic, Oriental world in a determinedly materialist context.

Kureishi's script is occasionally heavy-handed, but sex is never far from his analyses of power and identity - Omar's crucial tirade against Johnny has a thrilling, Genet-esque frisson.