by Douglas
Messerli
Sonam Larcin (screenwriter
and director) On My Way / 2020 [22 minutes]
A lone figure
appears on the winter landscape, stopping only to confirm via cellphone that
the place up ahead is the right location. Clearly the small Belgium grocery in
the middle of nowhere is a location for picking up migrants, and the young man
wandering the landscape is just such a figure, a Nigerian named Dayo (Goua
Robert Grovogui), who sneaks into the nearby barn for warmth.
The young man in charge of the grocery,
Niels (Tijmen Govaerts), has the unpleasant business of telling Day that he can’t
stay in the barn since his intolerant boss owns it. Were Dayo to be discovered,
it would mean in him being sent home and Niels being fired. But—after a quick
conversation with a passing farmer, Antoine (Yannick Renier), with whom we soon
discover Neils is in love—he offers a safe place and food into his nearby caravan
(trailer) until the truck which will transport Dayo to England arrives.
It’s a rather complex and somewhat clumsy
set-up of events, but, as we soon discover, the strange almost accidental
intersection of the three men pushes the work into the territory that clearly Belgium
director Sonam Larcin is determined to explore.
Niels is an open person, welcoming Dayo
into his comfy trailer, feeding him, and making him feel quite at home.
Antoine, meanwhile, calls, saying that when
he finishes up with chores he’ll stop by. Niels closes up the store and returns
to the trailer. Noticing a large gash on Dayo’s body, he suggests he take a
shower to clean the wound. When asked by the stranger if he speaks French Niels
explains that, yes he does, but that he is from the Dutch part of Belgium, living
in the French-speaking region only because of his love of Antoine.
When Antoine shows up, Niels asks him to
care for Dayo’s wound, the farmer also being a licensed veterinarian. But it’s immediately
apparent that Antoine resents having to treat the outsider in his lover’s
trailer, the place where the two men obviously meet up to make love.
While Antoine begins to dress what he
describes as a “nasty” wound, Dayo, observing the pictures on Niels’ wall of Antoine
and him kissing, shares one of the film’s major statements: “Where I come from two
men can’t have a relationship. It’s not possible. They are being chased. They
are thrown in jail and they will never get out”
Antoine quickly finishes up and leaves,
telling Niels that his wife is waiting. His leave-taking is perceptively angry,
almost violent, and Niels, sensing it, chases after. Antoine is not only furious
that Niels has kept the photograph, putting it up in his trailer for anyone to
see, but even more confused about why the man is saying all that he said.
Clearly he is talking about himself, Antoine muses, “He must have lived through
all that stuff.”
What is just as clear is that Antoine
has no patience to hear how difficult it is in Nigeria. For him it is just as
difficult in Belgium since he is, as we have just discovered, a closeted man
with a wife who he is not willing to leave. He hurries off, leaving Niels
confused and hurt.
In the meantime, Dayo explains to Niels
how difficult it was to be with his own lover, how they had to hide, to meet up
secretly in hotels. “Where I’m from, it’s inconceivable, it’s witchcraft, it’s
something you just can’t do.”
Larcin’s film intercuts to Antoine,
seated alone in his truck, clearly whimpering, almost tearful, attempting to
deal with the facts of his life.
Day continues telling Niels his story:
“My mother started to have suspicions. She told my aunt. And one day the police
came.” He explains that his lover Franklin, older than him, had some kind of
influence. The guard let him out. He also arranged for Dayo to leave his
country. “I haven’t heard from him since then.”
Antoine returns to the trailer,
calling Niels out. “What’s up, sugarpuff?” the young man enquires, using his
personal endearment for his lover. Neils attempts to hug him, but Antoine now
totally breaks down, weeping maybe sentimentally as he imagines through a false
analogy that his own situation is something similar to the Nigerian’s or, more
likely if he is honest, shedding tears for his own lack of courage. “I can’t do
it. I just can’t. Sorry.” They kiss before Antoine turns away to leave forever.
In the end Niels, who has told Dayo
that he loves to travel and has stayed on in this small country place only on
account of his love for Antoine, determines to drive Dayo to England himself,
leaving his forever frightened lover, a gay man who one day will certainly realize
what he has lost through his cowardice, behind to his wife and cows.
The point of this short film,
obviously, is that there seemingly is a big difference between how gays are
free to live between countries such as Nigeria, Uganda, and Russia and Belgium,
England, or the US; but not if you don’t have the courage to accept those
freedoms. As Letterboxd commentator Troy Thrace observes: “Even with relative
progressiveness comes internalized shackles some can’t break free from. Dayo,
having broken free the external violence in his home country, is on his way to
overcoming that battle too.”
Antoine has chosen to continue to live
a lie, which only postpones his own, his wife’s, and their possible children’s
suffering. His prison is his own mind, his torture is derived from his own
choice of behavior. No guard can free him, no one can mend his wounds.
Los Angeles, March
30, 2024
Reprinted from My
Queer Cinema blog (March 2024).
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