Jovan James | The Jump Off / 2017

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by Douglas Messerli

 

Jovan James (screenwriter and director) The Jump Off / 2017 [5 minutes]

 

Public commitment seems to be the hidden agenda of a great many short gay films of the past few years. The issue is not just “coming out,” involving yourself fully with someone of the same sex, but expressing that action to the world at large. I presume after the centuries of pent-up tension given the inability of many LGBTQ figures to express their feelings publicly, has resulted in a situation in the first few decades of the 21st century that people want to make certain their partner is not still afraid to demonstrate their private gay life.

     This is a most certainly a real issue. Just yesterday as we were driving home through Beverly Hills, Howard pointed out a gay couple walking down the street arm around each other. It is not that such sights are rare in Los Angeles, but the fact that Howard still felt it interesting to point out that made be recognize and comment on the fact that my husband for most of the early years of our relationship throughout the 1970s through the 90s had never even held my hand in public, let along put his arm around me as were walking a busy thoroughfare. Perhaps we were too busy arguing; but I also know that he was of the school that we needn’t display our affection in public.

     The couple in US director Jovan Jones short 2017 film are not even quite yet at the point of defining themselves as a couple. But then Nigel (David A. Wallace) and his lover Malik (Michael Rishawn) are black, members of community that is far more resistant to LGBTQ acceptance than liberal white communities throughout the US—let-alone the privileged world of Beverly Hills.

      The film begins with Malik engaged with friends in a local Baltimore outdoor basketball game, the more intellectual Nigel sitting on the side. Their sex, shown briefly in the new few frames, is intense and sincere. But when Nigel even asks Malik to stay the night, the response is what appears to be the usual: “I can’t.”

      He pleads with him, repeating the words. But all Malik can do is turn and kiss him, dress, and prepare to leave. Nigel follows him out the door where, on the porch, they briefly express “good night”; but as Malik moves on, Nigel runs after him and kisses him in public, Malik returning the kiss as the two stand in the dark street expressing their deep love.

      A bicyclist rides by, a friend who mutters, “What the fuck?”

      Malik calls after him, “Tristan,” at the same moment that he pushes Nigel away, throwing him to the ground. Malik hurries off, leaving Nigel obviously to make the decision whether their love is worth the public revelation and violence that inevitably follows.

      In its brief 5-minutes Jovan’s film covers important territory that I would like to see played out more fully in a longer or even a feature film.

 

Los Angeles, May 25, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (May 2023).