Queer people often think about the separation between adulthood and childhood. A lot of us had to hide ourselves and flourished in a second adolescence when we were on our own, but that younger self never goes away. We often remember how we stayed silent in awkward situations or knew that what we were looking at could land us in trouble. Our grown-up selves still worry about that younger, naive version tucked away in the recesses of our memory, and it’s a cornerstone of queer cinema across many cultures and time periods. Alexander Farah’s deeply emotional One Day This Kid bridges the gap between the hearts of a grown man and his younger counterpart.
The title of Farah’s film comes from the untitled art piece by David Wojnarowicz where he placed an image of his young self surrounded by hopes and cautionary statements about things he, and other gay, queer and trans people, may face as Wonjarowicz faced them. “One day this kid will get larger,” the piece begins before including lines like, “One day this kid will find something in his mind his body and soul that makes him hungry” or “He will be subject to loss of home, civil rights, jobs, and all conceivable freedoms.”
One Day is split into three sections as Hamed experiences different phases of realizing who he will become. We first see him as a young boy being taught how to use the pump at the gas station before his father rewards him and his sister with rainbow slushies. The same father is embarassed and angry when Hamed dances along to the Spice Girls on television at his mother’s innocent encouragement. Teenage Hamed plays video games and blows up objects with friends, but adult Hamed feels freer since he is no longer under the watchful eyes of his parents or family. He can dance at warehouse parties and take men home, if he chooses.
As much as Farah’s film is about identity, I couldn’t help but notice how it’s also about the queer gaze and how it is implicated in our own unspoken shame. Hamed, as a boy, looks at men at the sauna when taken by his father, but he doesn’t know what it means. He’s simply looking. When he is older, though, he knows that looking at his friends with any iota of lust will be bounded about with torment and ridicule. The almost bygone notion of cruising is steeped in “the gaze” and our modern culture doesn’t give that element its due. Hamed meets Walid at a club and they are brought together by an exchange of the eyes before their hot hookup nudges towards a serious relationship. One Day This Kid beautifully connects how our eyes communicate before our mouths open to speak or kiss. There is a moment where Hamed and Walid are up to their shoulders in water as they embrace. When Walid swims a short distance away, Hamed sees a father and son enjoying time together and that look turns inward. The final shot of the film is glorious and shattering.
Farah’s film is tender and aches with such palpable, truthful tension as Hamed searches for his own authentic happiness. No matter if we try to run from those who helped us build who we are, those homes and those people will always catch up with us. We owe it to those younger selves to answer any call back to help us heal.
One Day This Kid will next play at the International Film Festival of Ottawa before playing at the Cleveland International Film Festival.
