I’ve never seen a movie like Femme before. Queer characters are not permitted the same amount of time in a lot of television or film if they are not suffering or coming to terms with their own identity. In Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping’s BAFTA-nominated short film, a night of flirting quickly turns dark for a Black, queer man in London. It’s beautifully shot and every frame is filled with intention.
Two worlds exist in Femme. Paapa Essiedu’s Jordan is out with his friends at a gay bar to try to get over a breakup. Wes, a drug dealer played by Harris Dickinson, shows up on the scene, but he invites Jordan for a ride in his car to buy the drugs. The ride is flirtatious and you can feel the energy in the small space. A lot of us queer people have done questionable things in order to be showered by attention from a guy that we know isn’t good for us.
When Jordan and Wes arrive at their destination, things turn ugly quickly and the directors were interested in carving their own space in a traditionally masculine world. In order to be part of these types of films and stories, queer creatives have to take it for themselves.
“We have to carve our way in in order to do it,” Freeman explained. “This is our first step. We were inspired by movies of the genre, and the movie that we watched right before this was the Safdie Brothers’ Good Time. We feel slightly excluded. Queer characters are oftentimes on the sidelines in stories like this. We wanted to fuck with that, and that was the core idea.”
Ping echoed how queer stories only have a spotlight when suffering or disease is the main focus.
“Queer stories are usually their own category, and, usually, it’s about coming out or victimhood. The queerness is its own subject. We were interested in what it would be like if a big, action thriller had a queer relationship, but the story wasn’t centered on the queerness of the relationship. It’s about taking up space in the mainstream, and going into that genre space.”
Essiedu’s costuming tells us so much about his character. He struts in a glittering crop top that shows off his physique. Jordan is proudly feminine and flamboyant, but when he arrives at the house, the other guys use that confidence against him. Jordan can no longer hide his femininity in a dangerous place, and it reinforces how queer people seek out safe spaces where they can celebrate themselves. Ping explained how the same costume can mean different things depending on the location.
“It’s important to us that it reads differently in different spaces. We based a lot of this film on the idea of heterophobia. How queer people feel nervous and afraid in predominantly or aggressively straight spaces. A costume like that gives Jordan power in the club environment, but once he’s out of it and he’s in the drug house, he sticks out in a dangerous way. In that way, we felt the costuming was very important in showing how the same piece of clothing can lead to other different feelings or experiences in different worlds.”
Freedman added that it was integral to highlighting the danger that Jordan finds himself in. The other guys in the film wear baggier, non-descript clothing.
“We had to have a costume where the audience would immediately feel that switch happen. It has to be a visceral moment when he changes situations. You don’t have to think about it. When he’s in the club, he’s gorgeous and powerful, but you get a sense of dread when he walks into the other room in the house. You wish you were him in one situation, but then you don’t want to be him in the other.”
Jordan getting into Wes’ car to go to an undisclosed location is a questionable choice, but the filmmakers wanted to lean into the idea of how our culture idolizes masculinity. Gay men are obsessed with “the straight man” or how a straight man’s allure is based on his straightness. Guys on dating apps still use the term, “straight-acting” or “masc for masc” no matter how toxic they are.
“The allure begins in the car, and we are definitely playing with that traditional idea of masculinity,” Freeman says. “As the film shows, it can be deeply unhealthy. It’s linked to Jordan’s relationship with his dad at the beginning, and he’s found in a weak moment of heartbreak in the club. Now a guy is giving him attention. On some level, it’s the kind of person that he might feel lesser than, and maybe he’s attracted to the danger of that.”
Why are we so obsessed with a straight guy flirting with us? Is it seen as acceptance? Ping mentions how gay baiting is all about the control of the seemingly straight man. They set the rules.
“Let’s assume Wes is straight. There is a lot of gaybaiting where straight people will flirt with you and feel very safe. They control how far they go. If a gay person responds, a straight person can say they were just being friendly. There is an incredible power there. Let’s stop being attracted to straight or straight presenting people. Queer people will recognize that straight people are flirty in a “harmless” way. A drug dealer is a business man. Wes sees this obviously queer person, and the way he can do business is flirt with him. He successfully bumps up the sale of one gram to three grams of MD.”
The filmmakers had conversations with Dickinson about his character’s sexuality, but his intentions are never clear. If Wes is anything other than straight, he is trapped in a world that will never accept him. Freeman revealed that the directors made sure to keep that push and pull going to make the audience guess his character’s motives.
“What we played with in the car scene is pulling him in and pushing him away. We told Harris that every time he gets too close to you, push him away with someone casual. If you push him too far, you need to pull him back in. He is someone that doesn’t feel he has the freedom to explore his sexuality, and he is desperate to. There is a tragedy in that.”
When the violence comes towards the end, the directors wanted to layer it. Every gay man has found themselves in a situation where they feel unsafe, but Jordan has to take matters into his own hands to escape. What he is attracted to is now a danger to him. He got too close to people who will never accept him.
“We wanted to layer [the tension],” Ping explains. “There is the plot level where the violence is a retaliation against Jordan for [what happens]. There is that level. The key scene is on the couch when the other guys are crowding him, and they are menacing to him because he is different. We wanted to fuse those two things together to immerse us in Jordan’s experience of fear and threat. It’s not a conventional type of attack like, “Hey, fag!” and then they beat you up. It speaks to how we find ourselves in complex. complicated situations that are hinged on homophobia. It’s different every time.”
The film will register differently with how you fall on the spectrum of sexuality. The directors briefly spoke about how straight audiences will wonder why Jordan got into the car, but queer audiences understand that danger. Queer characters are never expected or allowed to show that fearful side of themselves, and Freeman explained how the violence is an extension of Jordan’s personal experiences.
“The film is so subjectively based on Jordan’s experience so it’s a manifestation of his internal dialogue of his situation in the world. These are his worst fears, and they go in the worst way. We spoke to a psychologist who loved the film, but he said based on Jordan’s psychological profile, he was curious about what happens. The violence at the end, however, is the film’s most expressionistic moment. It’s an expression of Jordan’s rage and perhaps it is more heightened. In that moment, it’s about expelling everything that is happening to him.”
The ending of Femme is shocking for many reasons. Both Freeman and Ping have created a film that speaks deeply to queer desire, rage, and fear. They utilize Todrick Hall’s “Fag” in an incredible way towards the end of the film. It’s a fabulous film–not just because we have this new, fresh viewpoint of queer storytelling. It confronts queer rage and terror in a completely new way.
