“This film is inspired by all the dickheads that fucked us over…you know who you are!” reads a title card at the start of Neil Ely & Lloyd Eyre-Morgan’s Departures. It’s very bold to begin a film so directly but these filmmakers aren’t messing around with their ode to the pain we push ourselves through as we try to navigate heartbreak and sex. The film tells us that in order for us to go forward, we need to go back, and there is a keen sense of vibrant learning here. With all its desire and anger vibrating to shoot out, maybe all of our traumas are simply crashing into each other as we try to find our next path?
Benji (played by Eyre-Morgan) has never been lucky in love. Even though he knows better, Benji fancies his co-worker Ryan because he is fit, but other men have not treated our hero in the nicest of ways. In one instance a man, nicknamed The Dom, hits him and anotherm dubbed Smiley Sean, tells Benji that he is morbidly obese even though he’s not. It’s no wonder that Benji fantasizes about the kind of men we are all told to not idolize and worship: they’re toxic….they’re muscley…they know the effect they have on other gay men–cocky and they know it. And we, almost always, fall for it. In Benji’s case, this comes in the form of Jake, played by David Tag.
Departures begins at the end and works its way back through Benji’s guidance. They meet by chance at an airport gate when they are both on their way to Amsterdam with Benji admitting that he hopes that Jake will be “a little gay” after seven or so drinks. Jake brags that his dick is so big that it risks falling out of his underwear, so it’s easy to see how Benji falls for his charms. Once in Amsterdam, their chemistry explodes like a sonic boom: they dance and take pictures in a photo booth as Benji is continually harsh on himself. “Am I going to spend the weekend pretending like I’m one of the lads or is there something inside of him that is just a little bit gay?” he asks us.
They drink, they smoke weed, and they talk about finding a girl for Jake to hook up with while Benji watches. We feel how Jake likes to be watched and how Benji’s heartbeat must have been pulsing in his ears. After their first foray into voyeurism with each other, they hook up as Jake always keeps Benji at a confused distance away, and this becomes a routine. They take a quick flight and fuck around, but one participant is clearly more invested in the other. Even the apartment feels like its too small for the aggressive sex that is about to transpire. In one moment, Benji lays his head on Jake’s chiseled, hairy chest, and Jake rebuffs him. “Get off me, you faggot,” he scoffs as Benji wonders if he has ever made any partner feel the same way.
While some may assume that Ely and Eyre-Morgan’s film is retreading on familiar territory (especially after Harry Lighton’s Pillion), I would argue that we need it more than ever before. Even though this film takes place in Europe, I connected with how bewildering it is for someone to communicate one thing with their actions and another thing with their words. When Jake reveals moments of his past, we get a surprising detour to see how young Jake perceived sex (featuring the charismatic presence of Kerry Howard), and it touches on the barrier between male anger and desire as it pertains to expectations in life and in the bedroom. In one touching moment, Jake tells Benji that he likes his body when they visit the beach. The scene is shot from a short distance away, and Eyre-Morgan (who is so wonderful in this entire film) keeps his back to us even though we feel Benji’s heart swell. The film employs some animation not unlike how Heartstopper does.
Departures embraces its fractures between its characters. A lot of us are searching for the next great, unshakeable thing in our lives, and maybe that adventure starts with drinks and a spliff with a stranger. Ely & Eyre-Morgan’s film holds its emotions and its moments with a welcome, hopeful heart.
Departures will be released in UK & Irish Cinemas on April 17.
