Mat Hayes | Cognitive / 2019

preaching death

by Douglas Messerli

 

Mat Hayes (screenwriter and director) Cognitive / 2019 [14 minutes]

Most of this short US film is relayed to a psychologist, Dr. Marston (Jackie Mah) by David (Mat Hayes), who grew up in a fundamental religious family where many a Sunday he heard the preacher, Brother Elymas (Del Shores) attack homosexuals and companies like Disney who seemed, in his warped perception, to actively support them by hiring LGBT individuals and allowing gay men and women to hold hands while visiting their parks.

     Not only does Brother Elymas attack gays, but sees HIV and AIDS as sent by God as an attempt to annihilate gay men, to punish their abhorrent behavior. They are, he concludes, an abomination.

     As David begins to grow up and finds himself attracted to boys, he is accordingly convinced that he too will soon be punished with AIDS, and is horrified and depressed by the fact.  

     If his discussions with Dr. Marston begin with a simple desire to take his now gay partner, Jonathan (Daniel Robaire) and their daughter annually to an Easter church service, he assures Jonathan that the church he has chosen is liberal, totally different from one in which he grew up. But even then, it is difficult for Jonathan, who is Jewish, their daughter being raised Jewish, and David himself to accept the kind invites of the perfectly respectable Reverend Wynn (Jessalyn Gilsig) without a sense of dread and terror.

     Well might David feel that discomfort given what he tells his psychologist. Yes, David is shunned by classmates who, even at his young age “tell him” that he’s gay, a common revelation to young gay boys who might even yet know what that word full means, but more importantly, he is told such behavior by his church is an abomination and will surely end in your death.

     The most significant scene in the film for me, is the one that begins with him telling Dr. Marston: “I knew I wasn’t going to grow up. I had AIDS. I didn’t know when I was going to die, but I knew it was coming.”

      David keeps a journal as a time capsule for his parents after his “death,” beginning with the words: “Dear Mom and Dad, I’m sorry I’m dead. I hope you’re not mad at me. I don’t want to have AIDS. I wanted to make you happy, and to make Jesus happy.” Yet, he doesn’t blame his parents. “You know there’s not an instruction manual on how to raise a gay boy in Alabama,” David tells his psychologist.

       “Well, who do you blame?” Dr. Marston asks.

        And suddenly David stutters out the name of his true bully: “God.”

      He recalls that last Sunday, at the church, he saw a different kind of God, the kind he wish he’d known as he was growing up. His family’s God was a mean god of vengeance, of punishment. From Reverend Wynn he hears a sermon preached about a God of love, of forgiveness.

      Perhaps the recollection he shares with his psychologist explains it all. Asked when did he finally realize he didn’t have AIDS, David recounts a true incident. One day he visits the school nurse (Erica Tazel) because, he (the child version of David performed by Zakary Risinger) claims, he’s feeling well. She asks him “What’s wrong, your head hurts? Stomach ache from the cafeteria food? Or are you just trying to go home early?” To all of these suggestions, he answers, “No, ma’am.”

      She checks his temperature, his tongue, etc. All seems to be fine. She asks if the boys had been mean to him again, which he admits by telling her that they call him bad names. She reinforces him, however, by reminding him that he’s smart and that what they say doesn’t matter.

       With a deep breath, however, he shifts the conversation. “I think I’m dying.”

      Startled by his comment, she can hardly breath out her wonderment before he tells her that he has AIDS, and begs her to please not tell his parents.

       “Sugar, why would you think that?”

       His answer is straight forward. “God.”

       Nurse Alisse turns her head down with tears in her eyes. “Listen to me. Do you trust me to tell you the truth and not lie to you?” He shakes his head. “You’re not dying, and you certainly don’t have AIDS.”

       “But the preacher at the church said…”

       “…I don’t care what that man said. He’s not a doctor, got it. I mean, I’m not a doctor either, but I am a nurse, and I’ve worked with a lot of doctors, so, who are you going to believe? Listen to me, you do not have AIDS.”

       “Do I get to grow up?”

       “You’re going to grow up and do so many wonderful things.”

       Tazel plays this scene with such tenderness, understanding, and emotion that it’s difficult not to cry. Hayes should be lauded for casting her in the role.

        Who might have imagined that a movie in which the major figure is played by a child might be yet another significant film about AIDS.

         There are many queer short and feature films about the problems faced by adults who grew gay up in devout, church-going families. And even noted pop singers, as I’ve just noted in an essay on Steve Grand (mentioning specific works by David Archuleta, John Duff, and Lil Nas X along with Grand’s 2019 song “Disciple”) have expressed their religious doubts in their works. If “love” is one of the major teachings of Christ, it seems not to matter for thousands of US Christian fundamentalists, conservative Catholics, and individuals of other religious sects.

       In Hays’ gentle short, yet another innocent gets swept up in the hatred of his church.

 

Los Angeles, July 9, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (July 2025).