SYNOPSIS
On a lonely stretch of Route 66, French tourists stop at a remote dusty roadside attraction: a lowly desert diner. Its brown shingles are sun-bleached, yet it's unmistakably the set of the 1987 cult movie Bagdad Café. German arthouse lensing elevated this humble spot to a mythic destination for movie buffs, especially Europeans.
A train rhythmically rumbles by. A soaring water tower looms. Tourists take selfies. But their pilgrimage could end. Since the pandemic, Bagdad Café has faced extinction. Even the coffee machine is broken.
"French people have always been very good to me," muses Andrea Pruett, 82, as her friend Kim carefully wets and combs her pale silken hairs. Tourists still visit but are sparse. Once, with its jukebox and dance floor, Bagdad Café was the main attraction for miles.
Long ago, in 1996, Andrea and her husband Harold Pruett Sr. left LA to pursue a dream: restoring and running this movie memorabilia treasure. Tragedies followed: their son's death and Andrea's husband's soon after. Bereft, Andrea stayed on in the desert, and the Cafe became her whole world.
Today she's surrounded by stranger than fiction characters, true survivors united by solidarity and kindness. Can this quirky community collectively break the curse of collapse and reopen the Cafe?
In the style of Honeyland, Paris Texas, Some Kind of Heaven, and The Truffle Hunters, the story unfolds slowly and meditatively through the dreamy sweet-natured gaze of an increasingly absent-minded Andrea. Nevertheless, she clings to her dream. After her house burns down, she sleeps in a booth inside the Café. Holes in the ceiling, broken windows, and dust coming in spell doom. Yet her oddball community of diehard desert hearts is determined to help. Nearby, Newberry Springs' waters are toxic and parched. The whole world is changing beyond recognition. Will the Café also be erased?
Memorabilia on the walls and ceiling intertwine with Andrea's memories. Conversations are rambling and heartfelt. Andrea's brown eyes shine with an uncannily youthful light. She no longer remembers where she was born or who she was before the Café. Does it even matter? Cinematography will wryly echo the kooky cantered angles of Adlon's cinematic gem. As starry nights stretch to infinity above, Andrea and her friends want to remain in the place they love, with each other. An oasis of humanity lingers on at this still luminescent shrine.
