“My Uncle Jens” is a joint Norwegian/Romanian production which marks the feature film debut of Screenwriter/Director Brwa Vahabpour. Uncle Jens might actually be dubbed Uncle Khdr, as the protagonist has come to Oslo from the Iranian part of Kurdistan, as did Brwa Vahabpour. Vahabpour attracted positive attention for his 2020 short film “Silence” that was featured at the Palm Sprinsg International Shorts Fest.
The plot focuses on a young literature teacher in Oslo (Norway) named Akam (Peiman Azizpour), who receives a late-night visit from his estranged Uncle Khdr, his father’s brother. Why is the movie not entitled Uncle Khdr, rather than Uncle Jens? That explanation goes back to the common ploy of trying to “blend in” to a strange land by adopting a more common surname. We saw this technique used in one of this year’s Best Oscar nominees, “The Brutalist,” when a Hungarian Jew immigrating from Germany in the 1940’s adopted the surname Miller to better blend in with his new country. In Khdr’s case, he begins using the Norwegian first name Jens after a conversation with a friendly cab driver.
Khdr (Hamza Agoshi)—er, Jens—claims he is just in town for a surprise visit. It’s a bit hard to swallow, with young Akam’s mother in Bergen, suggesting that the relationship with her brother-in-law was never close.
THE PLOT of My Uncle Jens
Director Brwa Vahabpour of “My Uncle Jens.” (Photo by Tori Gjendal at SXSW.)
Akam does not live alone. He has two roommates, a young girl (Theresa Frostad Eggesbo) and a tall, lanky yellow-haired stork-like Norwegian male (Magnus Lysbakken), who has a temporary melt-down over a missing jar of starter dough in the shared refrigerator. Lysbakken as Stian represents the stereotype of “yellow-haired people” that Uncle Jens alludes to when he says, to Akam (Peiman Azizpour), “You’re probably busy with those yellow-haired people.”
Uncle Jens immediately begins shaming his nephew. Akam did not seem to know his Uncle that well in the first place. Jens shames him into hosting him in his cramped apartment. He uses the term “peshkesh.” It means “from me to you.” Uncle Jens is loud. He snores. He takes the one single bed (while Akam sleeps on the floor). He has many other annoying and obnoxious habits. These include smoking, which the roommates object to. Jens also constantly leaves water all over the bathroom floor. He throws away the community kitchen brush. He uses a sponge instead. He generally behaves as though he is moving in for good. When the roommates ask Akam how long Jens is staying, the answer is always “just a couple days.” In reality, he shows no signs of even attempting to leave.
It isn’t until Jens and Akam are out together that Akam begins to find out something. His uncle has actually been hanging around a local café. The café is owned by a man known as Hussein. This has gone on for a couple of months.
Akam begins to realize something. Uncle Jens’s “surprise visit” may never end. He finally begins to realize something else. Maybe his uncle is not in the country legally. What, then, does that mean to him?
A friend advises him. He says beware of guests who arrive in the middle of the night. The friend directs him to a girl named Elena (Sarah Frances Braenne). She works for the Directorate of Immigration in Norway. She knows the rules.
THE RULES
“My Uncle Jens” (Hamza Agoshi) screens at SXSW. (Photo by Jorgen Kluver).
Akam devises a clever ruse to try to find out what rules apply to people visiting Norway from other countries. He pretends to be writing a short story about a Norwegian girl whose aunt arrives unexpectedly to visit. He asks about Norway’s rules for visitors.
For openers, says Elena, visitors should have a written invitation from the person in Norway in order to qualify for a visitor’s visa. Also, the visitor has to have state proof that they are able to return to their country of origin (Iran). Elena adds that, if the visitor is up to no good (human trafficking, etc.) that can lead to deportation for them and for those who might be harboring them. She suggests that the visitor has to have proof of employment and other such signs of being an upstanding individual. Meanwhile, Akim and Elena are hitting it off as a couple and that is going to complicate matters.
What is obviously going through Akam’s mind is “Yikes!” At one point, Akam almost turns his uncle in, anonymously, but when they ask what address the suspect is residing at, he hangs up, realizing that he will be implicating himself, as well.
DENOUEMENT
As Akam and the rest of us feared, there is finally a visit from the representatives of the Directorate of Immigration, and it is near the end of the film. They are very polite, but they do search the house, looking for Uncle Jens. It is time for him to go, but, before he leaves, he has caused the downfall of the Elena/Akam relationship and has told a harrowing tale of his escape from Iran and assuming the alias Sabir Salehi.
A STORY FOR OUR TIMES
“My Uncle Jens” with Sarah Frances Braenne (Elena) and Akam (Peiman Azizpour). (Photo by Jorgan Kluver
Much like the illegals attempting to flee unrest and violence and economic insecurity in their homeland, Uncle Jens has been both physically assaulted and threatened to the point that he made a harrowing journey to Turkey (Istanbul) and, by boat, to Greece. He was placed in various holding sites while he awaited a ruling on his request for asylum. Unfortunately, the authorities rejected his application and he received a deportation order. Among other things, Jens says, “I have to prove that my life is really in danger.” Ironically, Uncle Jens says, to his nephew, “Can’t you see your lies affect all those around you?”
There is a nice touch where one of Akam’s literature students has written a modernized version of the fairy tale “Three Billy Goat’s Bluff” and has revealed much about the trials and tribulations of a foreigner trying to fit in to a new culture, where the locals often are not welcoming and the language is not their native tongue. On top of that, some of the troubled youth trying to blend in have come from war-torn families, which is also the case with Akam, himself, as his father, Swara, was a Peshmergas Freedom Fighter.
CONCLUSION
It is easy to see the parallels between Uncle Jens and every immigrant on the run. The country may not be Norway, but there are so many countries in turmoil and so many emigrants wanting to settle in a country that can offer them a better life. That list would go on for a very long time. Two people on it would be my Grandfather (Ole Monson) from Norway and my Grandmother from the Netherlands.
This film makes a real effort to show us the hurdles that immigrants face on a personal and psychological level. It also underscores the very real dangers that they face and the lengths they will go to to find a better life for themselves and their families. Can we blame them for these efforts? [It appears that we do, which is sad.]
While Director/Screenwriter Vahabpour has several shorts and directing credits on IMDB, this first feature film was very skillfully executed on all levels. The music (Kastel) was good. The cinematography (Jorgen Kluver) was good. And, most importantly, the acting by Akam and Khdr ( Peiman Azispour and Hamza Agoshi) was excellent and believable, as were the supporting cast members.
I did wonder about the phone situation, since it seems to be set in modern day and the phone on the wall ringing seemed old-fashioned. Isn’t everyone in Norway using a cell phone these days? (Apparently not, if this film is set in modern-day Norway). I liked the use of the phone on the wall ringing at both the beginning and the end of the film, a circularity of plot (bookending) commonly used by good directors, but it called attention to the phone, itself, which may have been an anachronism.
Try it. You’ll like it.
