No one in this film is a conventional hero. They are liars, thieves, and petty schemers. Yet, Kusturica loves them all. The gangster Dadan has a phobia of germs and a hilarious obsession with his pet crow. Grga Pitić, the "Godfather" living in a sunken half-house, is immobile but still commands absolute respect. Even the most bizarre characters—like the skeletal, robotic bride’s sister—have a strange, ugly-beautiful charm.
The story, set in a ramshackle Gypsy settlement on the banks of the Danube, involves a bumbling small-time crook named Matko, his cunning teenage son Zare, and a larger-than-life gangster named Dadan (played with scene-chewing brilliance by Srdjan Todorović). The plot kicks off when a botched train heist leads to a debt that can only be repaid by marrying Zare off to Dadan’s vertically challenged, pint-sized sister. Of course, Zare is already head-over-heels in love with the beautiful Ida. Cue a wedding, a burial, a escape from a rubbish heap, and a grand finale involving a runaway wedding caravan and a goose hanging from a chandelier. crna macka, beli macor ceo film
Kusturica directs with the manic energy of a teenager who just found his father’s espresso machine and a brass band. The camera never stops moving. The frame is always bursting with life: pigs snort in the living room, geese patrol the streets, and a rusty car doubles as a bathtub. The film’s logic is that of a fever dream—or, more accurately, a glorious hangover. Time jumps, characters appear and disappear, and the line between luck and catastrophe is as thin as a cigarette paper. No one in this film is a conventional hero
If pure, unadulterated adrenaline were a film, it would look like Emir Kusturica’s Crna mačka, beli mačor . This is not so much a movie you watch as a whirlwind you get swept up in. Released in 1998, it remains one of the most unique cinematic experiences ever crafted—a raucous, dirty, beautiful, and utterly hilarious celebration of life on the fringes. The gangster Dadan has a phobia of germs
You cannot talk about this film without mentioning the soundtrack. Composed by Kusturica’s own band, The No Smoking Orchestra, the music is a breakneck fusion of Romani brass, Balkan folk, rock and roll, and punk. The main theme is an earworm that will lodge itself in your skull for weeks. The music doesn’t just accompany the action; it drives it. When a funeral procession suddenly turns into a dance party, you won’t question it—you’ll be tapping your foot.