There’s a knock on your door in the middle of the night. The man outside says he’s your uncle. But you only met him once when you were a child back in your Kurdistan homeland and you’ve had no advance warning of his visit. So what do you do?
If you are Akam (Peiman Azizpour), a young language teacher in Oslo, there’s little question. Despite Akam’s hesitation and the overall inconvenience to his life, Akam lets the man in. Having emigrated to Norway as a child with his parents from the Iranian part of Kurdistan, Akam is now fully enculturated into Norwegian life. He has only a vague memory of his Uncle Khdr (Hamza Agoshi), who tells Akam and his two Norwegian flatmates to call him Uncle Jens. It would be rude and culturally insensitive for Akam if he did not give his uncle shelter.
Yet there’s something off about Uncle Jens’ visit. His presence gets on the nerves of Akam’s flatmates. He leaves water all over the bathroom floor, takes food from each one’s individually assigned refrigerator shelf, and constantly messes up the recycling bins. Then there are the mysterious visits that Uncle Jens makes to a nearby Kurdish cafe where Akam has surreptitiously observed his uncle receiving cash payouts. Jens is tight-lipped about his reason for being in Oslo, and moreover, when he might vacate Akam’s apartment. As Akam’s suspicions grow, he consults Elina (Sarah Francesca Brænne), a woman who works for the police department, about immigration law, but does so under the ruse of gathering information about a story he is writing about a Norwegian woman and her visiting aunt from abroad. Now the shielded identities in the story have doubled.
My Uncle Jens maintains a delicate balance between mystery and comedy. First-time feature director Brwa Vahabpour notices all the little cultural fissures among the nationalities, sexes, and age divisions. Much is observed even when little is said, and the film’s humor is played for knowing smiles rather than big belly laughs. The movie touches on many issues of cultural and generational differences, although writer/director Vahabpour never truly pierces the surface. Still, he skillfully maintains the story’s mystery and makes good use of his film’s limited locations.
My Uncle Jens also distinguishes itself as being a far cry from the latter-day trend of anguished immigrant narratives fraught with heartache and disappointment. Vahabpour’s film is a gentle human story that grounds the specific in the universal.
Screens again Tuesday, March 11 and Friday, March 14.
My Uncle Jens
Narrative Feature Competition, World Premiere
Catch up with all of The Austin Chronicle‘s SXSW 2025 coverage.
This article appears in March 7 • 2025.
