The Short Films of Nikyatu Jusu

 

The short films of Nikyatu Jusu.

As another Women’s History Month comes to a close, a tremendous blessing has been revisiting Nikyatu Jusu’s phenomenal work. She has four short films available to stream on the Criterion Channel: Flowers, Say Grace Before Drowning, African Booty Scratcher, and Suicide By Sunlight. Meanwhile, Black Swan Theory is available on Vimeo. 

Mya (Amee Apedo) and Erin (Belle Legrand) survive a very dangerous situation in Flowers. DP: Jamal Solomon. 

In Flowers (2015)— co-directed and co-written with Yvonne Michelle Shirley— Mya and Erin set out to avenge Mya’s honor nearly tarnished by her white male tutor, Mr. Ryan. After all, Black girls are not often believed when assaulted. It would be her word against his and hers would bear less weight. Even the ease Mya enters his secure home raises questions. He trusts her like that? Clues reveal Mr. Ryan before he even arrives— mainly the brown baby on his refrigerator. So, he has a taste for Black women, eh? 

When the tension surmounts near the end, an unhinged Mr. Ryan becomes a greater villain, having no problem inflicting sexual or physical assault on Black girls. Has he done this before? Put his hands on the defenseless? His own unseen partner, pregnant with his second child? Through a red haze, he’s only thinking that Erin may destroy his reputation. Heart-pounding fear intensifies for Erin as the adult and teen fall on the floor battling over her phone. How far will both go for control? Mya returns, standing in complete shock at this escalated violence. Gratefully, Mya does not film this— her own tutor taking away her best friend’s agency; stripping away Erin’s earlier candor. The girls have played a hot gamble and they must leave before the flames burn any brighter. 

Mya and Erin both experienced abuse by the hands of Mr. Ryan—  traumatic in different ways and would impact their friendship forever. 

Grace (Ellie Foumbi, director/writer of the buzzy Our Father, the Devil) is impressed that her daughter Hawa (Dennise Gregory) can read well in Say Grace Before Drowning. DP: Daniel Patterson.

Say Grace Before Drowning (2010) sheds light on Grace, a sexual assault survivor— narrated from the point of view of Hawi, her daughter. Hawi was the first to leave their country, sheltered by Grace’s sister Aisha and her husband Chris. Upon Grace’s arrival, everyone treats her with special care, including Chris who’s touchy-feely actions trigger Grace’s assault. Her reactionary behavior stems from untreated memory dissociation, a mental disorder that stems from heavy, undisclosed trauma. Often, a withdrawn Grace disappears within herself and brightly returns to being Hawi’s mother, braiding her daughter’s hair, complimenting her reading, and sleeping beside her at night. 

By mistaking Chris’s kindness, Grace may be reminded of the soldiers’ mistreatment. After the family pool trip in which Chris teaches Grace to swim, she sets out to seduce her brother-in-law. During a spaghetti meal that Chris is preparing, Grace grinds on him during a song— right in front of Hawi. Grace transforms into her aggressive attackers launching herself at Chris, refusing to take “no” for an answer. In an assault as detrimental as sexual harm, power and domination over the body is essentially the key. Grace wants to repeat that history, but with herself as the wielder of power and domination over Chris, blind to consequences, to Aisha and Hawa’s feelings. Did the soldiers consider Grace’s family or their own wives, girlfriends, daughters as they violated Grace? 

Hawi hears the screaming match between Grace and Chris and abandons the spaghetti to see what the fuss is about. Spaghetti, when not watched and stirred frequently, gets clumped together, uneasy to eat. 

Toby (Angela Burnett) longs for her ancestral foundation. DP: Charles Burnett.

Hawa almost shadows Toby in Alile Sharon Larkin’s Your Children Come Back To You (1979)— story about a child wishing for a Black world whose mother too frequently dissolves into deep depression, neglecting Toby in the process. Whereas Hawi has her aunt Aisha, Toby has a compassionate grandmother. 

Abbie (Ebbe Bassey) and her teenage daughter Isatu (DeWanda Wise) reach an important solution to the prom in African Booty Scratcher. DP: Daniel Patterson.

African Booty Scratcher (2007), an earlier Jusu work, gets its title from an offensive, known and well-traveled taunt. The short stars DeWanda Wise as Isatu, a teenager looking forward to prom. Her hard-working immigrant mother Abbie wants Isatu to wear a traditionalist gown broadcasting her heritage. Isatu’s peers negatively blast anything associated with Africa. Thus, a tradition as American as apple pie, the prom is the biggest event in a young girl’s life— the fashion statement made here can either elevate your status or bring you down. Of course, Isatu believes that wearing  a typical name brand designer would have all eyes on her.

Terence Nance cameos as the mean teen who dumps Isatu via note. What a class act. DP: Daniel Patterson.

At Abbie’s restaurant (serving jollof rice and stews), Isatu works cleaning tables and waitressing in order to obtain money for her dream dress. Isatu sees firsthand that the teasing from schoolmates is nothing compared to how some Black adults look down on African immigrants, a seething hatred that manifests into verbal malice. A potential customer disrespects Abbie and their food in the process— further claiming that the Asians know what Black Americans desire more than the Africans. This avenue plays into Isatu’s own Americanized thought process— her laughing at the girl with the “African Booty Scratcher” card on her back, her preference for pasta over jollof rice, her reaction to the gown Abbie made for her. Perhaps Isatu too will become as bitter as the stranger, turning her back on her ancestral background for the comfort of fried food. Unfortunately, her mental institution has already begun.

Isatu realizes that she too has participated in Abbie’s humiliation. 

Mind-enhancing cocaine allows Sonya (DeWanda Wise) to blur her world in order to cope with her past life as a sniper. DP: Hans Charles.

The dark, disturbing Black Swan Theory (2011)— also starring Wise— focuses on as Sonya, a murder for hire dressed in black sporting a killer braided faux hawk hairstyle. This avant-grade experimental piece has an Afro futuristic meets parental advisory video game aesthetic. Sonya high on drugs and strapped for cash, takes on a murder-for-hire job. Already, she’s imagining killing someone— in a crueler affliction that implies personal vendetta versus a flying bullet. 

The men (played by Erik Clancy, Jeevan D’Souza, Stephen Hill) receive code names straight out of college textbooks—Italian renaissance artist/theorist/engineer Leonardo Da Vinci, French playwright/political activist/critic/existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, and German poet/philosopher/composer Friedrich Nietzsche. DP: Hans Charles.

Meanwhile, Sonya’s code name Black Swan lacks that same consideration. DP: Hans Charles.

If there are therapeutic outlets for abuse survivors, do those who killed in the name of their country also have support? What therapist could possibly empathize with cold-blooded murder— even under the semblance of justice? How does a society expect veterans to navigate with normal mental/psychological capacity? Furthermore, Sonya has photographic memory. Even if she shot one person, that image rests in her mind forever. 

Seemingly without support beyond Jordan— her ex and former military comrade coping with the past in his own way— Sonya takes an assignment reminding her of the only skill she acquired whilst overseas. 

Valentina (Natalie Paul) in the subway in Suicide by Sunlight. DP: Daisy Zhou.

Suicide by Sunlight (2019) currently sits at number one on a list of short films that could be excellent full-length features. Seriously. An amazing film about Black vampires— without the Marvel comic book associations or Eddie Murphy antics. In this incredible world, vampires with melanin have the unique gift of walking through sunlight unscathed and those lacking die by the sun rays if they choose to be brave (or stupid). The shots on Black vampires glowing in the day are stunning; as though the still images bring the style of Gordon Parks to a vivid, creature-feature technicolor. 

Valentina tries to see her daughters, but their father  refuses to relent. DP: Chloe Zhou.

Gorgeous, stylish nurse Valentina juggles her career, bloodlust, and motherhood. She cares deeply for cancer patient Micah, a little boy on the cusp of death. Micah is around the same age as Valentina’s two daughters Hope and Faith and ex Langston makes it impossible for Valentina to see them. He’s part of those in town deadset against the vampires, not realizing that their precious daughters are not excluded— a whole new perspective on the one drop rule. 

Valentina balances her nursing duties; withholding a ferocious hunger that her co-workers and patients know nothing about. At night, however, her lust is insatiable— deadly seductions turn into passionate clenches of her razor sharp fangs piercing flesh. Shockingly, though, Valentina pukes it all up, looking as guilty as Buffy’s ex-boyfriend Angel— the redemptive vampire with a soul. 

When Valentina discovers that Langston has introduced a new woman to Hope and Faith— perhaps as some misguided attempt to replace Valentina and give the girls a makeshift nurturing he himself cannot provide— Valentina decides to give him a lesson. In the process, Valentina shares who they truly are to both Hope and Faith. 

Don’t ever cross Valentina. A beloved mother would do anything to see her children. DP: Daisy Zhou.

The girls Hope (Juniah Williams-West) and Faith (Madison Spicer) trust in their mother. DP: Chloe Zhou.

Jusu’s five short films are well-crafted, sophisticatedly put together and beautiful as a whole oeuvre. All four cinematographers—Jamal Solomon, Daniel Patterson, Hans Charles, Chloe Zhou— captured the rich, multifaceted variations of Black skin in exceptional styles that would make Bradford Young proud. In addition to the experience, it is lovely to see that the same names continue popping up in the credits— Yvonne Shirley (sound mixer on African Booty Scratcher and Say Grace Before Drowning), Terrance Nance (guest actor, producer/title card maker, renaissance Da Vinci, etc), and quadruple threat Jusu editing and production designing. 

Hawa playing in her mother’s makeup as young girls love to do. DP: Jamal Solomon.

“The Oscars are not my center,” Nikyatu Jusu recently said on the Independent Spirit Awards carpet—a valid statement to speak against an industry placing the Academy Awards above all others— the symbolism of “making it” in the filmmaking art. 

Yet, that problematic space relies heavily on its white cinematic history repeating over and over; an institution excluding Black women for years, continuing to nominate the same folks filling the Guinness Book with their record victories. So, even if they fail every year to recognize Black women’s talents onscreen and behind-the-scenes, the audience desires to see themselves reflected, most importantly by women who mirror them, who know their pains and joys, not stories from the anthropologist lens dominating our cinematic experience for far too long. 

“I’ve done a lot of spiritual, intellectual, physical labor, being in predominantly white spaces for my entire life. So now allow me to just focus on the work. But everything comes with a price. Money’s never free; success is never free.... the more breaks I have for myself, the more I’m like, Do I want to be part of that machine and do everything that comes with that? Or do I want to make something I truly believe in every few years and still teach and have my little quiet house and live below my means? The more you see of the figurative monster that is the industry, the more you assess what you’re willing to do to get what other people have gotten.”— Nikyatu Jusu to film critic Angelica Jade Bastién in Vulture

Jusu’s works matter. Every last one. Her brilliant feature-length debut Nanny included. Brown and dark-skinned women star across genres that usually exclude them. Horror rarely ensures their survival. Jusu sets the wrongs to rights, presenting Black women and girls in either unaddressed community topics or imaginative scenarios that broaden the modular spectrum. She utilizes key elements to a solid cinematic experience: breathtaking stories, compelling cinematography, and fresh talented actors/actresses, ensures that the audience will be wholly invested. Plus, the casting stays excellent— friends having believable chemistry, mothers/daughters looking alike. 

Whether Nikyatu Jusu makes another short film between her booked schedule of two feature-length films, whatever comes next will be well worth the wait. The representation of Black girls and women are safe in her capable hands.