Tuesday, September 16, 2025

Jovan James | The Jump Off / 2017

stay

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).

  

Jason Karman | Lions in Waiting / 2017

rookies

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jason Karman (screenplay and director) Lions in Waiting / 2017 [17 minutes]

 

The plot of Canadian director Jason Karman’s 2017 short, Lions in Waiting is so simple it’s hardly worth recounting. A young high school hockey player Ray (Taylor Kare) has just moved with his widowed mother to a new town, where as with all sports competitors he’s greeted by the team leaders with a great deal of suspicion, despite his excellent credentials from the school in Calgary which he’s just left.



     His proud mother (Valerie Sing Turner), having lost his father, almost clings to him with affection, cornering one of the fathers, Kirk (Andy Nez), of two champion players Peter (Derek Kesseler), captain of the team, and Shelby (Zac Bran). Embarrassed by her bragging Ray is even more abashed when she pulls out boxes wrapped cupcakes on account of his birthday.

     But Ray is sensitive in more ways than perhaps even his mother knows. He has arrived late to practice, for which he is reprimanded by the coach, for having been looking at cellphone photos of gay boys his age.

     Evidently, the new boys are forced to wear red sweaters instead of the white team shirts worn by the others, and from that evidence in the first scene there appears to be another boy that’s just joined the team as well, a new goalie, Jeff (Jason Lindner) whose name is never spoken in the film. 



     Back in the lockers the seasoned team players pull down the two “rookie” boys to the floor, rub their faces against it, and piss on them, checking out Ray’s cellphone in the process, the one who discovers it shouting out, “Oh my god, this kid’s got a habit.” Although they clearly sense that he may perhaps be gay, one whispering in his ear “hey pussy…you might actually like it,” the major cry is “This is what happens to “rooks,” boys, presumably mocking their status as new team members.

     Soon after, the coach (Bob Frazer) discovers the video someone took of the hazing episode has been posted on the internet and has gone viral. He’s furious since it’s not only against school rules, but makes the team look bad—although the major actor of the group, Shelby argues that it’s just part of the tradition and, more important, it was fun and funny. The boys who were hazed are not amused, and neither is the coach who suggests it’s not funny, it’s degrading. When Shelby admits that he posted it, he is suspended from the team.

     Now the pressure on Ray is even worse as his teammates purposely push, shove him to the ice, and basically try to injure him to test his determination.

      At home, Ray’s mother worries about her brooding son, reminding him that his playing hockey was something his father wanted, “the choice is yours, hon”—although we already have caught a glimpse of her pride in his playing the sport as well.

      It is no different when they play another team. At one point he is shoved so hard to the floor that it looks like he may not be able to stand and continue the game. But he does finally get up, the coach asking if he wants to sit out the rest of the game, Ray suggesting he’s fine and will remain on the floor.

      As the new round begins, the referee signals Ray to join in the first huddle, another of teammate’s having evidently fouled for moving before the whistle. Ray not only takes the puck under his control, but wins the game for his team.

      His mother, waiting for him outside the locker room wonders why he is so late. Obviously he was celebrating with the others. She is taking him to a celebration dinner, she announces, but he bows out telling her he has other plans.


   

     Those other plans evidently involve the other shy boy Jeff, the two planning a date, made evidently when Ray encountered his profile on one of the sites he frequents. They kiss each other deeply and drive off, Ray obviously having been able to overcome the bigotry of his teammates and bring out his friend with him.

      The film attempts, obviously, to relay a feel-good attitude toward young gay sportsmen, suggesting they too can overcome the homophobia of the locker room if they are tough enough and can attend to their game.

       The only problem is that Karman’s film seems muddled at times, and its values muddied. At several points the “abuse” that we perceive might simply be perceived simply as a testing of mettle of a new teammate, and even the locker room hazing is fairly mind, not truly involving violence in the traditional sense, but once more testing out the new boys to figure out how they might fit in with the team rapport.

      The fact that Ray is homosexual is obvious only if you catch a glimpse from a sideways glance at the picture on his cellphone and quickly can recognize it as an almost nude boy advertising himself one of the gay dating services. Ray is apparently still closeted, although it is clear that is loving mother might easily accept the truth about his sexuality. If he hasn’t told her, we can only wonder why.

      But there is no time, amidst the hockey floor activity to truly develop any of these characters deeply. If his teammates are aware that he is a “fag,” they never mock him for his sexuality or call him names, but seem to accept just as a “habit.”

      And we hardly imagine that Ray has made any remarkable breakthroughs in simply being able to score, the very reason why he probably was invited to join the team.

       We know so little about his friend, that we cannot guess that Ray’s acceptance has also encouraged his friend to succeed, as the film commentary suggests.

        We should be grateful, in fact, that the homophobia in this film is simply hinted at, and may, in fact, not exist at all, the boys simply going through the process that all closed societies do in deciding whether to permit entrance to new members.

        It would be interesting to have discovered what the director felt was so very significant about Ray and his teammates’ behavior that he needed to make a film of it. Even the coach recognizes that his response is based on the changes that schools have undergone and that in his day such a hazing incident would have gone unnoticed. He feels compelled to suspend the stupid braggart who seems to have no regret for his actions, but he doesn’t feel necessarily worried about it, and doesn’t react at all to the way Ray is treated rather brutally on the ice since that seems to be, in part, what the game of hockey is all about. Even he describes their race across the ice and full speed ending in a sudden halt as a “suicide skate,” presumably because an inexpert player might simply crash into the glass.

       And finally, the coach himself seems to be aware of the new boy’s sexuality. Catching him in the bathroom posing shirtless for a picture with his cellphone, he simply suggests he put away the phone and turn his attention to the game at hand. In this Canadian high school, at least virulent homophobia appears to be pretty much under control.

 

Los Angeles, November 13, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2022).

David Lange | Mein Anderer (My Other) / 2017

gay paranoia

by Douglas Messerli

 

David Lange (screenwriter and director) Mein Anderer (My Other) / 2017 [26 minutes]

 

Good boy Leo (Bjön Helge Jochum), having just finished his high school diploma and now working on an internship, is openly gay, but dissatisfied concerning love. With his best female friend Eli, he argues that he is better off without a boyfriend, which evidently for him means he’s better off without sex. Eli describes it as simply meaning that her friend his not yet ready for sex.


     She and her boyfriend invite him to a party, which he’s leery of attending, but finally agrees to attend. There he meets an older drug addict (Alejandro Nicolás), who offers him a joint before later, in the bathroom, inviting him into a toilet stall to share a snort of cocaine.

      They dance and decide to head to his new friend’s house, where they have sex.


    What might have been a simple film about a young unsure gay boy finding sexual fulfillment suddenly turns to a work of what might be described gay paranoia, as Leo wakes up to the reality of what has just happened. In fact, the lug he has gone home with is someone hard to imagine a good-looking kid like Leo being attracted to. But his reaction to the situation goes much further as Leo suddenly realizes that his bedroom partner has fucked him without a condom. Instead of realizing any self-responsibility, he blames “the other” for having taken advantage of him, of having basically drugged him and intentionally fucked him without protection.



       When he confronts the man with whom he wakes up in bed, the other seems unperturbed, rightfully pointing out that Leo hadn’t asked for a condom and moreover that he seemed to fully enjoy it. His diffident attitude further troubles Leo as he wonders whether unprotected sex with others boy is a regular thing for the man with whom he’s just has sex. Apparently, it is.

        Storming out of the house, Leo meets up with his female friend Eli, who at first also doesn’t quite comprehend his terror, and moreover, blames him for not properly choosing the right partner and seeking out proper protection.

        Surely, Leo will now have to have an AIDS test.

        But when he storms out on Eli as well, we realize that Leo is not only an immature being, but that his sexual distancing of himself, his disinterest of participating in parties where he might be seen and, as he puts it, judged or evaluated, is part and parcel of his homosexual hysteria. Always playing the seduced passive, he cannot admit to his own sexual desires or the consequences those desires have.

        In the end, he almost blames his own parents or the generation before him who counseled: “When we are small, we were told: Do whatever you want to do and love what you do. What do you want? Who do you wanna be? You just need to figure it out. Then you’ll be happy.” His credible question: “Is that the way it goes.”

        There is no question that the generation of young gay men coming of age in the 1980s and 1990s must surely have felt just those feelings, that the promises of open gay pleasure promised them by the elders of the day had become their own death knell, that they had been somehow led down at path that turned deadly without their having fully realized the consequences.

        But a young man coming of age in 2017 must surely have realized not only the responsibilities that come with such attitudes, but the fact that HIV-infection, as terrifying as it might be to anyone, was not necessarily a death sentence. And to go around blaming others for his own naivete and obviously unfulfilled desires is not the problem of the other, but of the self.

        We seem to have spawned a whole generation of young men and women who blame the other for all their sexual fears and confusions. A subtly solicited touch, a night that ends with an unexpected turn of events, an attraction that can’t quite be controlled has been hoisted on the shoulders of the “other,” the older, more mature, more self-confident, less paranoid “others” of their world who unnecessarily become the villains for all their sexual insecurities. Rape, unwanted groping, even excessive verbal flirtation are all things to be removed from our encounters with others. But there also are situations when individuals actively engage and wake up with regret, falsely blaming or accusing the “other” for their previous night-before desires and actions. Mistakes are made, but they are not always the fault of someone else.

 

Los Angeles, November 7, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2023).

Kamil Krawczycki | Mój koniec swiata (The End of My World) / 2017

dirge for a lost lover

by Douglas Messerli

 

Kamil Krawczycki (screenwriter and director) Mój koniec swiata (The End of My World) / 2017 [30 minutes]

 

This rather lugubrious and portentous, but nonetheless beautifully filmed short work by Polish director Kamil Krawczycki could be described as a dirge for a lost lover. Eryk (Pawel Dobek) has left his lover of six years Filip (Bartlomiej Ostrowski) without a trace, and Filip is unable to view it as anything other than the end of his world.

     Moodily tottering at the edge of his apartment building roof, drinking heavily, and behaving short-temperedly with his lesbian friends Ola (Magdalena Kaczmarek) and Daria (Lena Schimscheiner), the handsome youthful-looking, middle-aged photographer can’t seem to shake himself out of his stupor—that is until on a rainy day he meets Janek (Karol Kubasiewicz), a much younger man, who seeks refuge inside his apartment building’s doorway. Within moments Filip, on his way to a commercial shoot, invites the young man to audition for the role.


     If Filip can be said to represent the current mood of Polish intellectuals, despondent about their own lives and yet hopeful for the changes they imagine their country is undergoing, Janek signifies the new generations’ belief that, given the situation at hand, they are better off picking up what they have left and moving onto new worlds—an attitude Filip clearly envies.

     Although Filip remains almost speechless throughout their flirtatious interchanges, the two do get together for a sexual fling, but even a one-night stand turns into a reminder of all that Filip has lost, and the event ends with Janek’s quick leave-taking.


    It is not even that Filip and his ex-lover were particularly happy together, as Filip tells his mother (Katarzyna Herman) at a posh gallery opening for his newest photographs. They had been fighting off-and-on for the past several years, yet he cannot release himself from the deep sexual desire that existed between the two of them. And evidently neither can Eryk, who suddenly shows up, explaining that his silence was an attempt to simply be sure that he could survive their separation.

   The two have passionate sex in the car in which they meet up. But it is now also clear that the relationship between them is over.

   Filip, we perceive, has everything—a good job, the acceptance of his sexuality by his family, financial security, and prestige—that young men such as Janek will perhaps never have given Poland’s current attitudes and leadership. Yet Filip stews in his sexual stupor. But when the doorbell rings, it is clear that he hopes it might be Janek returning for another visit.

     If this short work might be described as failing in its narrative, it succeeds quite brilliantly in its aural and cinematic effects. The director’s new feature film, Elephant (2022), which won the Iris prize, has just been sold to TLA Releasing in the US, England, and Canada, and I look forward to seeing how Krawczycki’s talent has developed.

 

Los Angeles, March 20, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (March 2023).

 

Blerta Zeqiri | Martesa (The Marriage) / 2017

trying to reclaim his romeo

by Douglas Messerli

 

Blerta Zeqiri and Kreshnik Keka Berisha (screenplay), Blerta Zeqiri (director) Martesa (The Marriage) / 2017

 

Kosovo director Blerta Zeqiri’s feature film The Marriage begins in a terrain where you would never expect a film about young love to enter: on a field where dozens of people wait for the newest arrival delivery of exhumed bodies now some years after the Kosovo War. What arrives are never full body bags, but often just a few bones, found in the diggings and identified through rings and other objects or DNA evidence. Anita (Adriana Matoshi) is still awaiting news on her parents and has asked her fiancé Bekim (Alban Ukaj) to join her on this particular morning, where he discovers what those who grown used to this regimen already know, the wait is endless and nearly meaningless, but it is a necessary act in order to go on with living one’s life.


     No evidence of her parents’ demise arrives on this morning either, and Anita, about to be married to Bekin, declares she wants to move on with her life, to enter a new world of joy and possibility through her love with her husband.

     What the film also hints, however, is that even the lives of survivors are still being altered and effected by this “time before.” In this case, that time “before” appears in her life in the form of Bekim’s old friend Nol (Genc Salihu), who suddenly shows up in the small city where Anita and Bekim live and where Bekim runs a popular bar. Anita takes an immediate liking to Nol and suddenly realizes that he is the now famous Kosovo singer living and performing in Paris, which endears him to her and fascinates her even more. Indeed, the trio, Anita, Bekim, and Nol become fast friends.


     Only the fact that when Bekim goes on a drinking spree with Nol that lasts a couple of days confuses her, particularly at a time when they are busy planning their wedding and redecorating their marital apartment.

     What the film does not immediately reveal—and indeed almost begrudgingly, is even unwilling to admit—and what Anita never fully comprehends, is what the attentive viewer will begin to perceive almost immediately: not only have Bekim and Nol been close friends but were, in fact, gay lovers, Nol returning to claim his man and hopefully restore their love into a full-time relationship. Realizing that his lost lover is about to get married, Nol recognizes the near impossibility of his aspirations, and doesn’t even hide his sense of desolation, which Anita interprets as having to do with a lost female lover, in her imagination a kind of Romeo and Juliet situation, with the woman being perhaps a Serb or someone from another culture.

       Bekim, however, is as suddenly faced with the possibility that Nol will reveal the full truth to his fiancée, particularly at one point when Nol even declares that he has lost his Romeo, Anita laughing at what she believes is a drunken mistake in gender. Later she is easily led to believe that Nol’s lost lover is Bekin’s own now-married sister, Zana (Vjosa Abazi).


      Throughout the film, and sometimes without warning, Zeqiri takes us back and forth in time, showing us, using the very same actors from an earlier period in both their lives, particularly poignant given the quiet late-night encounters of Nol and Bekim who share a bed in a house in which the family dare not make noise, show their lights, or even go outside of for fear of being killed or arrested.

       Nol’s return, in short, causes chaos in Bekim’s life, at one point a fight over his late-night partying with Nol which threatens to end his and Anita’s relationship. As the marriage date comes closer and closer, Bekim demonstrates his utter confusion of what to do about events, his feelings alternating between total anger for Nol’s refusal to except the vast changes that have seemingly occurred in his life and between his real love for Nol, evidence in itself that all the sexual changes he has artfully created in his world have been superficial, that despite his intense desire for “normative heterosexuality” he is, at heart, as Nol states, still a “faggot”—in a culture, moreover, where being gay can still mean imprisonment and death in the hands of homophobic locals.

       The extremes are notable and, at times, utterly confusing. At one point a group of LGBT activists come to Bekim’s bar, having lost their previous venue, hoping desperately that they might rent out his place for the night for a closed-door meeting. When Bekim hears that it is to be for an LGBT meeting, he absolutely rejects them as any local homophobe might.


       Shortly after, however, when Nol is beaten by homophobic thugs on the street, Bekim comes to his rescue, returning with him to his apartment to nurse his wounds and have sex, and in the process almost committing to a permanent relationship with him—that is until Anita calls and reminds him of manufactured reality he has created. Their sex encounter, however, reveals a passion that we never see Bekim expressing to his future wife.

       Nol now realizes that their love is a lost cause, comprehending what men like Bekim never do until much later: that the lies they live will eventually come to haunt their marriages, torturing themselves, their wives, and their children.

       Such cowardly men, who lie to themselves regarding their sexuality, are to be found in any culture, and there are certainly hundreds of such examples in US films about men who finally, tired of their lies or unable to control their sexual impulses are forced to come to terms with the truth, devastating their families. But it appears that particularly in the radically transformed worlds of the former Yugoslavia, Albania, and Croatia, where everything might be said to have happened too fast to permit long-lingering hates, political tensions, and social mores to readjust, gay sexuality has also been an issue still to be fully resolved. One might take a look at the excellent Montenegrin film Ječam žela (Barley) (2021) as another example.


       What doesn’t quite make sense in the case of The Marriage, however, is that Nol chooses to attend their wedding, uninvited and completely drunken. We keep waiting for—perhaps even hoping for—some sort of outburst, a blazing emblem of truth to be tossed into the sham the false ceremonies. But it never comes. It is as if Nol is there only as a blatant visual testimony to Bekim’s own self-delusional reality. Only near the end does Nol whisper the truth so that a couple of attendees hear of their relationship.

      Yet when Nol attempts to leave the restaurant and walk the long distance back home, Bekim’s insistence that he drive him turns to near-disaster as they speed past a police barricade, nearly hitting a policeman, and are arrested. Finally brought back to the wedding by the police for confirmation of what he has been trying to tell them, Bekim is reunited with a startled and perhaps somewhat wiser or perhaps even more confused Anita.



       Yet the very next day, Bekim is still willing to endanger his new life by demanding he take Nol to the airport. Nol refuses, flagging down a taxi instead, but Bekim shows up to the airport simply to hug his previous lover / now former friend goodbye. We can only imagine the wild range of emotions going through his head as Bekim drives back into what he believes is the surety and safety of societal normality. What he has failed to recognize is that his world is not a normal society, that even his own family have lied to the new bride in order to protect her, her parents’ body parts having now been exhumed without their bothering to tell her, hoping to wait until “after the honeymoon.”

      In a society still built on lies, on its refusal to fully deal with the past, is it any wonder that Bekim remains such a coward? The trouble is that eventually the past returns with a revenge for those who will not or cannot contend with it, either repeating itself or revealing its buried truths with disastrous results.

      This truly important movie appears to have come and gone without its fair share of critical attention. Although it may be almost lugubrious in its storytelling, the story it tells, all too common for gay or bisexual men unwilling to explore their own sexual feelings and who chose heteronormative life not as a full thought-out decision but simply as a default in turn for never having to explore themselves or even growing into fully mature adults, should be required viewing for young men about to marry who feel themselves torn between sexual desires. The film was entered by Kosovo for the Best Foreign Language Film for 91st Academy Awards, but was not nominated as a finalist by the committee.

 

Los Angeles, October 25, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (October 2023).

Bruno Rose | Cold Water / 2017

as time goes by

by Douglas Messerli

 

Bruno Rose (screenwriter and director) Cold Water / 2017 [7 minutes]

 


Poor guy (Bruno Rose) working out in the gym attached to his condo building. He’s just been told via voice message from his girlfriend that their relationship “just isn’t working out,” and that he probably knew it wouldn’t from the beginning.     

      Retreating to the nearby pool, the cute guy dabbles his feet into the cold water only to spot a girl in the pool (Arianna Tysinger) whose sudden appearance interrupts his private singing of “Time Goes By.” She likes the song and asks him to sing more.

     He’s pleased by her ephemeral presence, but she just as suddenly disappears as another gym dude (Kevin Riggins) appears, just passing through. When our guy returns to the gym room, the other “dude” asks him if he’d like to join him later that evening to watch a TV fighting bout. Rose’s character passes.


     He returns to the pool, this time actually moving into the cold water. The girl again appears, asking him to sing once more. Rose sings the opening stanza which is rarely performed these days, and she continues with the main melody. He’s glad to see her, and the two move together seemingly about to kiss, when, at the last moment, she pulls back, commenting: “I’m not the right one, and neither is she,” before disappearing.


     Our workout boy suddenly realizes that women are just imaginative replacements for what he really wants. At the end of Rose’s short film, we see the guy knocking on door 101, where the other gym dude opens up to smilingly greet his new guest with whom he will probably spend the night.

    In this case, our hero has come out only to himself, but it’s about time. It’s amazing what a good dose of cold water can do.

 

Los Angeles, October 25, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (October 2023).

My Queer Cinema Index [with former World Cinema Review titles]

https://myqueercinema.blogspot.com/2023/12/former-index-to-world-cinema-review.html Films discussed (listed alphabetically by director) [For...