LFF 2020: I Am Samuel
lff 2020
I Am Samuel opens with an image of two young men spending time together. They are Sammy and Alex, two Kenyans who happen to be in love with one another. The filmmaker, Pete Murimi for whom this is a feature debut, paints a seemingly idyllic picture of worry-free serenity where these two young lovebirds can roam around forest paths, holding hands and laughing at each other’s jokes, free of lewd remarks, prejudice or persecution. They even acknowledge Murimi directly who convinced them to share their love with the world, as though to prepare the audience for a touching celebration of freedom.
But then, the image cuts to black. Voices are heard first and then the images follow. Shot vertically, presumably on a smartphone, a video emerges of a man being lynched by an angry mob. He is beaten, pushed, degraded. It’s not difficult to guess why he is being so badly mistreated, tortured even. He is going through hell because he is gay. This is his only ‘crime’. What is worse: the filmmaker quickly brings the audience up to speed on the blood-curdling fact that such displays of violence are perpetrated with a tacit approval of Kenyan administration and an open backing of the more conservative segments of Kenyan society. Thus, it becomes obvious that I Am Samuel isn’t only interested in celebrating the breaking of societal barriers, but rather in underscoring what these barriers are made of.
To accomplish that, Pete Murimi assumed the perspective of a fly on the wall and shadowed his subjects for nearly five years. As a result, he was able to manufacture a cinéma vérité record of what it’s like to be gay in one of the world’s more conservative societies who – as the grainy video of a man being lynched clearly testifies – is seemingly not yet ready to embrace a fundamental concept of romantic love between men. Interestingly however, the film’s primary interest isn’t political at all.
Neither do the subjects nor the filmmaker himself spend a single second of the running time trying to change the world. What they are after is acceptance by their nearest surroundings: their families, friends and communities. No more, no less. They want to be able visit their relatives and not have to endure dismissive looks or patronizing behaviour. They would like to be able to head out with friends for a night out without risking their lives. They would like to be able to hold hands in public.
Murimi’s filmmaking approach is perfectly conducive to this mission because it doesn’t engage with the viewer directly. All he needs to do in order to make his case is to portray Sammy and Alex in their natural habitat, showing the world how they live day to day and let the audience clue into the simple fact that all they are watching is normalcy. There is no place for political posturing where truth — vérité — is perfectly sufficient. Hence, the camera casually records how these guys spend their time. They work, cook, clean, socialise. They just exist. And most importantly, they rise well above even the most indirect forms of prejudice they encounter on a daily basis. They dismiss off-the-cuff remarks made by old-fashioned aunties with a smile. They play down bruises and cigarette burns they receive.
Taken together, I Am Samuel adds up to a touching and an ultimately uplifting cinematic experience that walks the tightrope between celebrating gay love and condemning the societal hostility towards it. The film executes on this central mission by simply leaving everything in the hands of its subjects who are extremely likeable, quietly unassuming and innately honest about what they want out of life. It just goes to show that sometimes all it takes to tell a solid story is the knowledge of where to point the camera. The rest will sort itself out and the truth will speak for itself.
I Am Samuel is just that – truth on film. While it certainly isn’t the slickest and most refined documentary, it is most certainly honest about what it wants to do. By keeping Sam, Alex and the entire Nairobian gay community firmly in the spotlight, the filmmaker is perfectly able to show what these societal obstacles are made of: irrational fear. As a result of keeping his subject fixed in focus throughout the film and consistently recording the reality of their existence, he dismantles this obstacle, as if to say ‘Dear Kenya, there’s nothing to fear.’
