The Indian is actually a Bavarian who plays the Indian, but one is no longer allowed to call him that and certainly not play him

Remember: Three years ago, dark smoke signals rose over Germany. Ravensburger Verlag withdrew Winnetou books because their unrealistic portrayal of the Native American population might have "hurt the feelings of others."

Green Party politician Bettina Jarasch had already let slip at the party congress. Her alleged childhood dream job, which she had revealed at the time, was "Indian chief." A shitstorm ensued from within the party and on all media outlets. The "I" word, she claimed, should no longer be used.

So it's only fitting that in Bully Herbig's new film "Manitou's Canoe," the phrase "Please don't call me Indian!" is repeated repeatedly. When the comedian announced the film, a frown ran through the identity-politics skeptics. Another joke at the expense of minorities? Colonialist, gentlemanly humor like in "Manitou's Shoe"? The original German Wild West slapstick is Germany's most-watched film. 12 million viewers.

Is laughing more human, more contemporary, in "Manitou's Canoe"? First of all, almost everything is as it was before, just like in the now twenty-four-year-old original. Hand-carved mountain ranges tower next to vast steppes. A perpetually blue sky hovers over the landscape, which lies somewhere on the US-Mexican border. Apache Abahachi (Bully Herbig) and his friend Ranger (Christian Tramitz) have visibly grown older and are celebrating their silver blood brotherhood high above the canyon.

However, the Silver City sheriff and his sardonic deputy are out to get them. Abahachi and Ranger are suspected of robbing a train. In reality, however, it's a case of identity theft. Two members of a gang disguised themselves as the two cronies and committed a few moderately serious crimes, including "some grandparent scam."

The oil baron (Sky Dumont in his final film role) has hired this idiotic gang, whose wit is perfect for a punchline, for a few jobs. Jessica Schwarz portrays the gang boss and sees their group as a kind of startup. The oil baron's goal is to get his hands on Manitou's canoe, which, according to legend, grants immortality. The only one who knows where it is is Abahachi. Officially sentenced to death, he and Ranger are also being pursued by the bandits, who have come up with nothing better than "The Seven Little Goats" as a name for their crime cartel.

A young man named Wolfgang (Merlin Sandmeyer), who is actually just an extra, increasingly takes center stage as events unfold. This is one of the film's better punchlines, a mini-Monty Python moment. The thin plot has to be stretched out with action scenes, which, of course, are also just parodies of standard action scenes. They race through the countryside on horseback, by carriage, and by train.

One donkey has a clearly visible bladder weakness, making it unsuitable for urgent transport. The search for the canoe continues underground. The temporary goal is only reached after silly tasks have been solved, but the oil baron can only enjoy his treasure for a short time.

There's no caustic humor in "Manitou's Canoe." Everything rolls off the film's surface without leaving a residue. By the time a gag comes along, the previous one is already forgotten, and this time the gaps seem particularly long. A gang member has worked his butt off for the criminal community, and because he takes the matter seriously, he actually only has one left. There's a woodpecker named Rupert, who can punch giant holes in wood in seconds. Abahachi's pink-clad gay brother, Winnetouch, runs a rumba ranch and has been a three-time cha-cha-cha champion in the area. He dances wolf with a woman and says, "I am the one who dances with wolf."

That's the kind of joke that's so wide-open. The fact that you don't immediately lose your temper is thanks to the engaging wink of this German humor production. Throughout the seemingly excessive 88 minutes, you're constantly drawn into an emotional argument that says: "You want it too!" This could be precisely the reason for the success of this kind of film.

Screenwriters Bully Herbig, Christian Tramitz, and Rick Kavanian craft their punchlines to feel like a meta-commentary. As if to say: We know it's incredibly stupid, but is that a reason to skip a joke? "As long as we're tied up, no one can separate us," is another "Canoe" Wild West joke.

Regarding the recent debates about sensitivity, one notices how hard "Manitu's Canoe" has tried to become a work of unassailability. The "comedy police" have "become so strict," said Bully Herbig in response to the furore surrounding alleged cultural appropriation three years ago. As director, he now acts like an identity-politics intimacy coach. It's okay to laugh at clichés if they were co-created by those they affect.

The "Kanu" features the Greek restaurant "Hellas Fellas." Ouzo is drunk there to the fullest, and the proprietor, played by Rick Kavanian, is a satirical take on what one might call business-promoting self-aggrandizement. As in the first "Manitou" film, Winnetouch mirrors the gay community in a friendly, plush pink.

"Canoe" is also a film about getting older. Ranger Christian Tramitz is now seventy, and the fact that the crumpled landscape of the canyons also has a gentle reflection in the faces of the two main characters lends the whole thing something touching. The couple, modeled on Karl May's Winnetou and Old Shatterhand, behave like a married couple chained together forever. They bicker and squabble. They call each other "old slappers." On the final path to retirement, one of them is always offended. When one of them says in an argument, "We wanted to grow old together," the other says, "We ARE old."

Apparently, Bully Herbig wants to tell people in the cinema how the world can be a better place. With a little bit of kindness. And he started with himself. Was it cultural appropriation when, 24 years ago, a Bavarian actor put a feather headdress on his head for the film "Der Schuh des Manitu" and claimed to be the Apache Abahachi?

With Herbig's new film, even its predecessor gets a new punchline. The film slowly and twitchily builds toward it. But since you're already guessing after a few minutes, you can name things here. The phrase "Please don't call me Indian" has another meaning. In truth, the broadly Bavarian-speaking Apache of the film was never a real one, as is revealed in "Manitu's Canoe." He and his brother Winnetouch are the sons of a Far Eastern prince and a German, constantly tuba-blowing mother.

As half-orphans, they were raised by Apaches. What's more, their real names are Jean-Claude and René. Even Woodpecker Rupert couldn't have pecked a more accurate hole in the identity politics debates that have arisen even around a comedy like "Manitou's Shoe."

The Apache invented for the film is not a real one in two ways. "I somehow don't even know what I am anymore," says Bully Herbig, aka Abahachi, aka Jean Claude, at the end of the film. But he can be helped. If he isn't a real Apache, then he's an Apache of the heart. This is a common phrase.

And the actual Jicarilla Apaches from New Mexico, who appear in the film as a gesture of international understanding, seem to agree. At heart, anyone can be anything. That's the not necessarily earth-shattering good news in "Manitou's Canoe," but it's still good news. As long as emotional appropriations don't lead to debates, all's well.

In the cinema.