Writing About Film in Troubling Times
Nimona, 2023, dir. Troy Quane & Nick Bruno
It’s hard to know where to start with this post, because I didn’t think I’d be writing anything today until waking up this morning to a flurry of executive orders targeting trans people. From prisons to identification documents to bathrooms, the trans community—myself included—is under attack. Political powers, emboldened by a substantial portion of this country’s population, have declared that we don’t matter. That we don’t belong. It’s only a matter of time, then, before they decide that our stories don’t deserve to be told. That our voices are to be silenced. That our cries are to become mute. And yet, I devote a significant portion of my time and energy not to writing about the trials that lie ahead for trans people, or to writing about the countless other social and civil injustices being committed, on a daily basis, against other marginalized populations within the US and around the world; but instead, to writing about the movies. What good does that do, for me or for anyone?
Pictured above is a promotional still from the 2023 Netflix animated film Nimona. It was one of my favorite films from that year—something I never fully got the chance to write about, as I hadn’t started my YouTube channel or this blog yet. So, now’s as good a time as any. Originally written as a webcomic by transmasc author ND Stevenson, Nimona was to be turned into a film by Blue Sky Studios before their acquisition by Disney as part of the 20th Century Fox merger. Post-merger, Disney, of course, killed the film alongside its studio. Still, the filmmakers were determined to see their work complete, and Netflix, of all people, brought the film back from the dead and gave the filmmakers the resources they needed to see it brought to completion. And so, Nimona lived, and in the summer of 2023, isolated inside a dorm room during one of the worse summers I’ve had to live through, I finally got to experience it. My initial impression? No wonder Disney wanted nothing to do with this.
Nimona is, to me, one of the greatest depictions of genderqueer identity that I’ve seen play out on screen. The titular character embodies the distinctly genderqueer experience of being not quite one thing and not quite another thing, but something that lies in-between. Something that has been long misunderstood. Something good which has been painted by the powers that be as something to fear. Of course, it takes a lot for other characters to begin to see that good, but by the end of the film (spoilers ahead), we see the unconditional acceptance of Nimona’s humanity. For only the second time in her life, she no longer has to be alone. For the first time, she doesn’t have to hide who she is to maintain that company. The co-lead, a knight (who happens to be explicitly gay—another refreshing part of this film) who seeks to reclaim his honor after being framed for murder, tells Nimona in the film’s climactic encounter, “I see you…” To be seen… what greater message could a film send to genderqueer children trying desperately to decipher what the person inside of them looks like? The film tells these children that they don’t have to hide, and that one day, someone will see them for who they are inside. And they will see that that person is good. That that person can be a hero. This is the power of cinema. Films like these are why I write about film.
I believe art is important, because art can spread messages like the one outlined above. I believe writing about art is important, because it helps ensure that these stories can reach people who might not have known of their existence. Furthermore, the more I write about films like Nimona—films that have the power to create change, whether societally or in one person’s life—and the more people watch films like these… the more films like these will keep getting made. Films that combat the establishment. Films that make you feel seen. This is why I have always devoted my writing to films about which I have something positive to say, or which I feel reflect something important. If I’m going to use my energy to write about film, I’d like to do so knowing that my writing might actually improve someone’s day or lead them towards a potentially inspiring or uplifting piece of art. I believe this is especially important now, when it feels as if the progress we’ve made is crashing down around us.
I’m afraid that films like Nimona might become a rare commodity in the coming years. What was once a sign of progress is now a showcase of what we have to lose, but I refuse to let these films be forgotten in the past. I refuse to pretend these films were not made and these stories not told. I refuse to let the history of this medium be rewritten. For as long as I continue to write about film, I will make it the mission of this blog and my YouTube channel to platform films like Nimona. Films that paint a picture of what powerful good this medium is capable of producing, even when it comes to studio films aimed at children.
It must also be said: everyone needs to do something they love if they’re going to keep sane during these troubling times. I love the movies. I love writing about them. I think it’s reasonable to assume that not everything I write will have such supposedly noble goals as those listed above, because if I’m going to keep myself sane throughout these next four years, sometimes I’ll just need to write about something that makes me happy. In all likelihood, I might even need to write that rare hit-piece just to vent my frustrations and move on with my day. My point being: it’s counterproductive to come after marginalized people who are just trying to survive, and sometimes survival looks like crocheting a new sweater in the privacy of one’s home instead of partaking in online discourse about the latest injustice committed against them. Let’s be kind to each other during the coming storm. I hope all of you can find the strength to keep doing whatever makes you happy as we brace for impact and hold on for dear life. This won’t be easy, but at least we have film, and at least we have each other, and at least we have the things we love. We will get through this. Thank you to those of you who are strong enough to lead the fights. As for me… I’ll happily be spending the rest of my day watching a double-feature downtown with my friend instead of watching the inauguration.