Kokomo City

I just saw this one at Madrid LesGayCine Festival. What a great surprise. This is a beautifully shot documentary that goes from light to deep so seamlesly that you would believe it's only ten minutes long.

Us white cis males (gay or not) have a lot to learn here. The documentary is filled by insightful comentary straight away from the sex workers themselves about sistemic racism, transphobia, class, money, women, men, past, future, happiness and the dangers of just being yourself. Knives fly in all directions and that's the funny part. We all can take our share. We are all safe in our movie seats while them are just up there in the barricades.

This 'documentary' provides no true insight into black trans sex workers. In fact, it plays into every single perception of who and what you think they are. There was definitely creative license (aka: exaggeration/ lying) taken during the filming of the lives and relationships that are featured. With that being said, the film makers are literally just letting these individuals be whoever they want to be. Their lives and attitudes will make you very sad; they balance their days on a tightrope of love and hate for who they are and what they have to do to survive. They all subsidize their emotions with mood enhancers - which makes sense because they live a very difficult life. This is probably one of the saddest documentaries I've ever seen, primarily because of the illusion almost all of them portray to the camera of being confident, satisfied with their position in the world, and being strong enough to survive it. These are also true in many senses - but not how they think. What IS impressive is their ability to acclimate to horrific circumstances that eventually become 'normal' . What surprised me about a couple of them is their obvious intellect; had they been born under different circumstances they could have been successful business owners, doctors, lawyers, etc. The circumstances of their birth put them on a trajectory where tragic survival or brutal death were their only options and they had to chose, at a VERY young age. Also what is perpetuated is the black on black violence that is so common. There is a caste system in place from birth for this race, whether they want to admit it or not. But it's very much a system they themselves have put into place.

The movie purports to profile some trans sex workers and their trials and tribulations. What it succeeds to do is put the watcher to sleep.

The told stories are clearly manufactured in that they make no sense whatsoever. One of the girls gives her name (first and last) and then says she doesn't want to give her middle name! Ooooo! That's a BIG secret. NOT.

It's ridiculous and you have to sit through this poor excuse for a documentary for an hour and twelve minutes.

The third girl says she worked at a "very famous" restaurant before she got into sex work. I never heard of the place.

Each conversation -- which is rendered annoying by the director finding it necessary to re-enact scenes with really bad actors.

It doesn't take long to figure out the problems these girls have are in their heads and the chips are totally on their own shoulders.

Such a powerful documentary at the intersection of race, sexuality, social class and, obviously, gender identity. The pace is not slow and the interviews offer a great balance of anecdotes, humor, introspection, and philosophical/social observations.

The level of comfort and trust from the main actresses allows them to share intimate and original insights about their odyssey. It is not enough known that black transwomen in the USA face an alarmingly high mortality, including hate crimes related to sex work. However, and that's the strength of this film, Kokomo City does not portray its actresses as victims but as magnificent and inspirational hustlers who deserve our admiration, our respect, and above all our help to achieve their goals.

I hope some of the main women from Kokomo City will write their memoirs. This documentary pairs well with two books: Redefining Realness, by Janet Mock, and Bad Girls (or Las Malas), by Camila Sosa Villada.

I often find it fascinating when a documentary provides viewers with an in-depth, inside look at a world seldom seen by those who aren't part of it, yet that's clearly the greatest strength of this debut feature from filmmaker D. Smith. This captivating examination of the lives of four African-American transsexual sex workers in New York, Atlanta and Miami shares stories of their experiences, their outlooks on their vocation and how they view themselves in relation to the Black community at large. It also features interviews with the clients and supporters of these individuals and how they relate to one another, both as objects of desire and sometimes as loving, adoring friends/partners. Beautifully shot in black-and-white, the film holds little back in telling the stories of its subjects, both in terms of dialogue and images (so sensitive viewers take note). And, for its efforts, the picture has been widely honored by film festivals and critics associations, as well as a recipient of best documentary nominations by the Independent Spirit Awards, the Critics Choice Documentary Awards and the Directors Guild of America. That's quite an impressive pedigree for a film that might not have even been made not all that long ago. It's a real testament to how far we - and cinema - have come over the years.