by Douglas
Messerli
Marieke Swinkels
and Ashanti Vreden (screenplay), Daniël Bakker (director) Mehmet & Tim / 2019 [5
minutes]
Before the credits
of Dutch director Daniël Bakker’s moving drama, Mehmet & Tim we see
an almost fully formally dressed Mehmet (Nur Dabagh) standing before the
mirror, a kind of nosegay stuck in the collar slit as appropriate to a wedding,
a look a stolid horror on his face, as if he were trying desperately to wipe
away what he is facing.
A moment later we see him riding in a kind
of grocery and stroller cart, attached to which is a string of beer cans, being
pushed by his best friend Tim (Silver van Sprundel), as they both go speeding
by from screen left to right, laughing with utter pleasure. It is a kind of wedding
itself, an image that we associated with the cars of just married couples
behind which celebratory friends have attached objects to attract the attention
to the newlyweds.
The third scene of this very short, almost
dialogue-free film, shows them on a small veranda, Tim standing, cigarette in mouth,
Mehmet sitting while intensely involved with a Rubiks cube, as if he were caught
up in thoughts far more complex than the issue of simply attempting to match up
on the colors of the cubes in rows.
Tim
comes forward and bends over his friend, sticking his joint into the other’s
mouth, a cloud of white smoke emanating from Mehmet’s next breath.
Mehmet jumps off the veranda and moves
forward, Tim running after, pulling him round from the shoulder and again
forcing the joint into the other’s mouth, the two alternating puffs with
In the fourth scenario, Mehmet is eating a
sandwich with Tim sitting next to him. He takes a second bite, Tim suddenly
pulling the other boy’s hand in which he holds the sandwich in his direction,
taking a substantial bite. Mehmet takes a third bite, while Tim moves in for
his second piece of the remaining sandwich.
Suddenly we hear the voices of the two
girls, Tim quickly rising and going over to them, hugging and talking
effusively to one of them. A shift comes over Mehmet’s face as he moves from a
slight smile to a serious stare, almost finding it difficult to swallow the
last bit of food he has consumed. Suddenly Mehmet rises and runs over to the
others, pulling Tim apart from the girl and slapping his face hard.
The fifth “scene” in this short work of six
acts, shows the two boys later at night standing on a bridge, the shopping cart
of the second scene sitting between them. There is distance and tension in the long
almost frozen frame in which no words are spoken and no incident occurs.
We
now return to the very first scene of the film, Mehmet standing with collar up,
awaiting the affixing of his tie, a face full of terror has he readies himself
for marriage. He is almost in tears as Tim enters without a tie, the mark of
the slap still on his face. The appending marriage is obviously not between the
two of them.
Tim moves forward and begins to loop his
friend’s tie into a knot, but it doesn’t work properly and the more he tries,
the more he fails. Suddenly Mehmet turns toward him in a deep hug and tears
while we hear the sound of the horns of approaching cars. Is it the other
members of the wedding party? After a couple of continued hugs, and a gentle
stroking of one another’s hair, Tim pulls apart, as Mehmet stands at attention,
trying to regain his composure for the event.
The
screen goes dark.
I have recently encountered several very
dark movies about young gay boys being forced into heterosexual relationships or
desperately trapped within them. Within a matter of a few hours, I watched the
2023 film Underneath in which a married man breaks down in tears after
being married for 11 years because he realizes he is attracted a gay man. The
same day I watched the 2025 movie I Love You, Bro in which two
heterosexual boys obviously love one another, but one of them is so terrified
of what that means that he cannot even comfortably say the words, “I love you”
to another man. Perhaps in this current world of shifting notions of love there
has arisen an even greater level of restrictions. Acceptance of gays and the
LGBTQ+ community has even further terrorized those who live at its borders.
In Mehmet and Tim a decision has
obviously been made for Mehmet’s future; but the question remains whether or
not Mehmet has truly had any role in the matter. Obviously, his love for Tim would
not be accepted by his family, and we can guess that his marriage was arranged.
Yes, these are stereotypical notions of presumably an Arab family. But the
evidence, whatever and however it has been decided, hints strongly that it was
not the boy’s own choice. And we are left with the tears that declare his own
entrapment in what will surely be an unhappy circumstance for all. Someday, he
too may break down in sobs for a life not fully lived.
I might also add, that usually when we see
the terrors of arranged marriages, if this be one, it is from the viewpoint of
the bride who has had no say in choosing her husband; here we see it from the
groom’s point of view.
All we have left of the remnants of joy in
this man’s life were those lovely moments of being carted off on a symbolic marriage
to Tim.
Los Angeles,
December 19, 2025
Reprinted from My
Queer Cinema blog (December 2025).
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