Adaora Nwandu | Say My Name / 2009

two worlds

by Douglas Messerli

 

Unknown screenwriter (Kofi?), Adaora Nwandu (director) Say My Name / 2009 [12 minutes]

 

I’ll be honest, for a white US boy following the dialogue of this Nigerian dialect British film is a challenge, but now that I’ve watched it about four times, I do think I understood most of it—although the real major issues of this film were quite clear from the beginning. I warn you strongly against attempting to read the AI sound-recognition rendering into English.

     Chris and Ricky (Nahum Bromfield and Ayo Fawole) are black, gay lovers. But in there gritty urban world, it is difficult to be open about their sexuality. When Ricky returns home, Chris is furious. He has fully come to terms with his identity and accepted almost any term of abuse with which, as a homosexual, might be thrown at him.

      But Ricky still lives in two worlds, on the lowdown, pretending to his friends outside that he is a ladies man while sharing his bed each night with his lover Chris. Ricky demands that he have a cover, arguing sexual openness is “white man’s politics”; but this time he has gone to far. While Chris has been out shopping for their dinner, he sees Ricky on the street, walking up to him simply to greet him. Ricky pretends not even to know him, and doesn’t even call him by his name when Chris greets Ricky.

     The action is truly devastating to the man whose entire world has changed after meeting Ricky, and who has come to terms with his identity.

      Even when he confronts his lover, however, Ricky is still ready to demand his space and cover, and when Chris further confronts him about it, he is ready to run instead of fully discussing it.

      But this time Chris refuses to budge, suggesting that if Ricky leaves through the door we will never be welcomed back. He is tired of hiding, of Ricky’s pretense about women, and particularly refuses to be in a world where the man he most loves won’t even recognize him on the street.

      In one of the most powerful moments of this short, but truly memorable drama, he demands that Ricky simply say his name, not only his given name, Chris, but who he is as a gay man.

      But Ricky argues for the pretense of female love, as both evidence of his virality and his survival on the streets.

      “So you will pass me on the road like I was nothing? What kind of love is that? You chose them, them over me, and it hurt.”

      He continues: “I need a man, a soldier, someone who’s got my back all the time.”

      Again he repeats: “Say my name.”

      Ricky again responds: Chris.

     But Chris answers quite differently: “Faggot, queer, coon, sodomite, cheap man. You see, Ricky, there ain’t nothing in reality that I don’t already call myself. I’ve taken those courses in loving myself, turned over to a blessing. After all my pain, my tears, my heart, I told myself never get in this this with motherfucking cunt who made be fall down about who I am again. Only you Ricky took me on that road again. …So say my name, because no matter what anyone thinks, I know who I am.”

      Chris reaches for the keys as the credits appear.

 

Los Angeles, June 22, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2026).

Blake Pruitt | Read Aloud / 2015

a mirror of possibilities

by Douglas Messerli

 

Blake Pruitt (screenwriter and director) Read Aloud / 2015 [15 minutes]

 

Read Aloud, in its short 15 minutes, is all over the place. It begins simply with a young man, Justin (Isaac Josephthal) hooking up on a Grindr date with a good-looking younger man named Marco (Jose Sepulveda). The date works out quite well, even though Justin is forced to bottom for one of the first times in his life; but he actually enjoys it.

     But we already know that, as a film editor he is into images, and is particularly fascinated by drag. He watches a drag performer over and over, and is busy with the image the next morning when Marco awakens after spending the night.

      Marco suggests he’s a would-be director, and wonders if Justin might be interested in seeing some of the work he’s done. When they meet again, Justin is fascinated by some of his images, while Marco realizes that what the editor might be far more interested in is performing—in drag—and encourages him to do so.

     Behind strings of beaded bangles, Justin performs less as a “drag queen” than as a kind of gay commentator asking some fascinating questions of his audience (and by extension of us): “Would it bother you if your partner kept pictures of previous partners?” “What do you feel about the world ‘queer?’” “What is your favorite post-sex activity?” “How does the idea of being slapped hard in the face during sex make you feel?” “How interested would you be in knowing the details of a partner’s sexual history?” “How confident are you of your sexual abilities?” “Do you prefer to pursue a sexual partner or have them pursue you?” “Do you enjoy meaningless sex?” “When a relationship ends, what is the best thing to do?”

     Some of these might be very interesting questions if they were explored, but our hero-in-drag doesn’t even suggest that these are necessarily important questions even to him. And soon after, it is clear, his relationship with Marco has been replaced by a new Grindr date, Brent (Roko Scherer).

      We are almost surprised, accordingly when he makes a quick date just to return Marco’s tapes, and is hurt, quite clearly, when Marco suggests he is too busy to meet up for a longer time together.

       The film ends with another performance, this without the drag, where in a far more personal context Justin talks about his own problems with maintaining a relationship with partners who speak a kind of date jargon without any depth, and glibly answering questions which don’t really show any deep involvement. Almost with pain, Justin admits, finally: “Maybe I can’t respect myself who’s actually into me, or need to prove myself to anyone who isn’t.”

       All of this may be interesting, in parts, but what does it really add up to. What we see are shards of a full human being, an almost schizophrenic presentation of a self that doesn’t know for certain what gender it prefers or if she/he really wants a long-term relationship. In the end, we suspect, that like this short film, the problem Justin has with other people is that he cannot fully make clear to himself or the others what he truly desires. Questions are wonderful, but without even an attempt to answer them, there is truly little behind them but a mirror of possibilities, as if someone were reading out a text that doesn’t add up to a story.

 

Los Angeles, June 22, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2026).