Rag&Tag

A few nights ago, I watched an independently produced and directed movie called, Rag & Tag. It’s a family drama of two boys whose childhood love for each other transcends the bounds of time and the social forces that try to separate them and find each other again in adulthood. The films, and the characters, are set primarily within the Nigerian black community. It is, as you can probably, already imagine, also a gay love story. I watched the film in a small, private screening in east London, which was heavily attended, primarily by gay, black men, and featured following the screening an audience with the screenwriter and director, Adaora Nwandu.

The film has many obvious limitations, the script could have done with a lot more refinement and development, many of the characters and situations are blatant stereotypes of Nigerians, Jamaicans in the west, it includes a drug-dealing, wheeler, dealer Nigerian who works in import-export, a Nigerian patriarch with an exaggerated and often confused accent, and of course, bible-bashers galore, and in parts, the performance of the actors was less than polished; Nevertheless, this film, without the obvious advantages and TLC of the Hollywood or pinewood machine, was enthusiastically received. The audience, mostly black, gay men, responded so passionately to having their story told, and seeing some semblance of their lives onscreen, a response which thrilled and inspired me. Their response tells me one thing, black audiences; particularly black, gay audiences are hungry for stories that talk about their lives beyond the usual stereotypes of the media. If such a flawed piece of cinema could elicit such an enthusiastic response, it puts a lie to the frequent claims that the audience for black stories, black gay stories have no audience; to the stock excuses that there is no audience for these stories, and any endeavor catering to them is fated to struggle and bankruptcy. The story of making the movie is in itself remarkable. It took Nwandu, three years to make the film, and it was made by literally begging and scrapping around, and commandeering every friend and family member who would help. The final love scene was shot in the director’s mother’s bedroom. It’s a remarkable thing for the subject matter that it was shot both in the United Kingdom, but also in Nigeria, where to put it mildly, the subject of homosexual love is a taboo.

To be fair, the director herself was at pains to stress that she understood why many people baulked at funding the movie; because ultimately stories are about ourselves, and stories which, especially in the west do not reflect what those who unfortunately have the money and clout to make movies want to see, will and have struggled to be made; despite this, the fact that this flawed movie received the enthusiastic response it had, and which by all accounts is growing, (and will grow) both financially and critically, suggests that there is a space for stories beyond the mainstream, a small space perhaps, but one that in this day and age of democratized media can prove a financial goldmine, we have all in the media industry heard about the long tail, perhaps its time for the moneybags to take more leaps of faith. Meanwhile, Adaora Nwandu is busy working on her next venture. I, for one, will be paying my five cents to see it.

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@Dele Meiji