Article 3: FILM; For His New Film, Hanif Kureishi Reaches for a 'Beautiful Laundrette'

 

By J. B. MILLER;

Published: August 2, 1992

In a large house in Notting Hill a stately white mansion that has obviously seen better days -- technicians bashed a hole in the living room, trying to attach a bike to the ceiling.

"I wrote this scene in a pub," said Hanif Kureishi gleefully, admiring the pandemonium from the comfort of a sofa. He was clearly enjoying the trouble he had caused. The prop was for a hallucination scene in "London Kills Me," Mr. Kureishi's third screenplay and his directorial debut. The film opens in New York on Friday.

Half-English, half-Pakistani, Hanif Kureishi (pronounced Ha-NEEF Ku-REE-shee) is a playwright, screenwriter, novelist, essayist. He is also a provocateur who once described England as "an intolerant, racist, homophobic, narrow-minded, authoritarian rat hole."

Glamour, of a street-smart variety, surrounds Mr. Kureishi. He likes to affect the outlaw image: the fashionable ponytail, the black leather jacket, the beer in a bottle, not a glass. Some in the film world call him the Spike Lee of England. Asked about the comparison, Mr. Kureishi shrugged. "We don't really have that much in common, except that he's a black man in a white society, and I'm a brown man in a white society, and we're both young."

In America, Mr. Kureishi, who is 37 years old, is probably best known for having written "My Beautiful Laundrette," a film that seemed to come out of nowhere, a splattered cinematic canvas of Asian immigrant London circa mid-Thatcher. "Laundrette" was a long shot that came in first. Along with "Chariots of Fire," it is perhaps the most emblematic of all the films that Britain produced in the 80's. "Laundrette" is the flip side of the stiff-upper-lip "Chariots," showing the story of a homosexual relationship between a young Pakistani and a white Cockney who open a swank laundromat in a London slum.

"Laundrette" remains the standard for the dream product: a low-cost slice-of-life drama that found an audience all over the world. Made on a budget of $860,000, it grossed $5 million in the United States alone, which is big box office for an independent film. "Laundrette" also introduced two other talents to the American public: the director Stephen Frears, who went on to make "Dangerous Liaisons" and "The Grifters," and Daniel Day Lewis, who won the best-actor Academy Award for "My Left Foot."

But neither of these big names is involved with "London Kills Me"; Mr. Kureishi was on his own. He gazed up at the ominous-looking hole. "What if the ceiling falls in?" he asked one of the technicians.

"I've got a dustpan and brush downstairs, Hanif."

Mr. Kureishi smiled at the joke. Orson Welles once called film making the greatest toy-train set in the world, and Mr. Kureishi was obviously relishing his new toy. Some years ago, when he was asked if he had any aspirations to direct, he replied, "No, it's too bloody difficult, too much organization. All of those people you have to be nice to. It's a strain." But here he was, on the second day of a scheduled 38-day shoot, being nice to people, organized, dealing with the strain.

The cast of unknowns were mostly in their early 20's, and they treated the quiet Mr. Kureishi as a hip, friendly teacher, or maybe an older brother. He doesn't look like a film director; short and compactly built, he has long black hair and gentle, soft black eyes. His face is angelic, but he is slow to smile and slower to laugh, often affecting the kind of puzzled expression and crooked grin one sees in pouting children and hurt dogs.

Not everything Mr. Kureishi has written, ranging from stage plays and screenplays to essays, stories and a novel, has been a striking success, but the title of his new film is certainly ironic in light of his own career. London hasn't killed Mr. Kureishi at all -- it has practically fallen at his feet. After the critical and commercial success of "Laundrette" (which earned him an Oscar nomination for best original screenplay), he was given an artistic blank check for his next film, "Sammy and Rosie Get Laid" (1987), which explored conservatism's collision with sexual liberation.

Although the movie was a commercial and critical failure, it further established Mr. Kureishi as a writer of vision. He has consistently challenged the Merchant Ivory-Masterpiece Theater view of England as a country of white people with good accents eating strawberries, playing cricket and going fox hunting. Mr. Kureishi's England is a land of immigrants, gays, punks, drug dealers and race riots. His novel, "The Buddha of Suburbia," depicts an England unsure of how to assimilate its immigrants -- and immigrants unsure whether they want to be assimilated. The book has been translated into 23 languages.

"London Kills Me," unlike Mr. Kureishi's other screenplays, doesn't feature race as an issue; the film is about a young white street urchin called Clint Eastwood who meets up with a gang of white drug dealers and moves into a squat, or house, with them in Notting Hill. Clint wants to go straight but needs a pair of shoes to get a job. "About two years ago, I met this guy in Notting Hill who didn't have a pair of shoes," Mr. Kureishi explained. "He'd stolen a pair from someone in his squat, but they'd found out, so he had to give them back. It seemed sort of funny and pathetic to me -- that all he needed was a pair of shoes."

But the film is not about footware. "Drugs are high-risk capitalism," the director said, speaking the kind of lines he is apt to give his characters. "Ecstasy was the ultimate Thatcherite drug, because you could get blissed out on the weekend and still go to work Monday morning. Not like LSD. The kids around Portobello Road are into the 60's scene without the politics, just the culture. It's all about hedonism. The squatting scene is massive. So it was those two themes -- of young homelessness and drugs -- that came together in the film."

The house the producers found is a former meditation center about to undergo complete renovation. "London Kills Me" turned it into a cinematic squat, with unintelligible graffiti spray-painted on the walls, mirrors smashed, the carpets trashed. Budgeted at $3 million, the production is clearly on the low end of the scale.

"People will probably say the film is arrogant," Mr. Kureishi said. What do critics say about him? "His eagerness to shock is almost endearing," wrote James Wolcott in Vanity Fair. "Kureishi is a bourgeois-basher afraid of being branded bourgeois."

Mr. Kureishi, whose novel won the Whitbread Prize for the best British fiction debut of 1990, has been praised by his friend Salman Rushdie, but, like Mr. Rushdie, he is not the most admired writer in the British Asian community. The loudest critics of "My Beautiful Laundrette" were Asians. In New York, members of the Pakistani Action Committee, angry about the film's depiction of their fellow nationals, picketed its release, waving placards with such slogans as " 'My Beautiful Laundrette' is the creation of a sick and perverted mind."

Although Muslim characters are written about sympathetically in his novel, Mr. Kureishi said that he was brought up as an atheist. Born in 1954 to a working-class English mother and a middle-class Pakistani journalist, he grew up in the south London middle-class suburb of Bromley. "I was brought up really as an English child," he said. "My father was very Westernized -- he wasn't a practicing Muslim, for example, didn't believe in arranged marriages or practices that would have conflicted with what was around us. I wasn't influenced by Asian culture at all."

There were few Asians in the Bromley area then. "It was a very worrying time," said Mr. Kureishi's father, Rafiushan, in an interview during the shooting of "London Kills Me." (Rafiushan Kureishi died last January.) "The English nature is to not say anything openly, but to keep it under. But people became outspoken about race -- they gave you a hassle when you went out." The senior Kureishi, perhaps his son's greatest champion, remembered the young Hanif as being "very difficult and extremely rude at times. He could be very arrogant."

Having come of age in the late 60's, the director has put that era's anti-authoritarian sensibility into much of his work. The land squatters in "Sammy and Rosie" could be living in a 60's commune. Characters speak as if they're in a psychedelic Roger Corman film ("This stuff will chill you, man. Just tip it on your tongue . . . .") And the drug dealers in "London Kills Me" could have been Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters hot off the bus.

Of his new film, Mr. Kureishi said, "There'll be a lot of people who'll be expecting something which is much bigger and more complicated, I suppose, more ambitious."

Faltering ambition has never been a problem with Mr. Kureishi. These days, however, following his father's death and a bout with back problems, he has decided to travel and take it easy for a while. Although he has no new projects planned, he has written a four-hour television adaptation of "The Buddha of Suburbia," which the BBC plans to film in September. This time, though, he is content to let someone else direct.

 

 

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