Winner of the Best International Short Award at the New Renaissances Film Festival in Amsterdam, Men I Trust is the 9th film by director Nathan Vass. The film has fairly ambiguous beginnings; two people take a walk through the woods and a young man called Ashley finds himself at a dance club after work. At first, you may overlook the link between the scenes as there is an inherent contrast between the serenity of nature and the synth rhythms of the club. However I feel this dichotomy becomes an important part of the message of the film later on.
Ashley (Ross Destiche) appears quiet and brooding, however as we are introduced to the two sisters, Sandro (Meagan Karimi-Naser) and Emma (Katherine Grant-Suttie), he appears more like an open book. He and Sandro have an engaging conversation and we see the beginnings of a potential relationship. Emma convinces her sister to go back and get Ashley’s number after the pair leave in a bit of a hurry. The performances of Destiche and Karimi-Naser are wonderful – perfectly capturing that first spark of chemistry between two people; the memory that lasts a lifetime. It is here where the alternate timeline falls into place – we are flashing between the past and the present. We are seeing present day Emma and Ashley take a walk, sadly without Sandro. Her absence is felt before we even know who she is. The attention to detail woven throughout the film is stunning in an effortless kind of way – it doesn’t seem forced. When they first meet, Sandro finishes off a joke Ashley was going to make – subtly tying in with a comment he makes in the present day about Sandro finishing his sentences.
Vass cleverly cuts seconds of scenes into other another, giving the effect of Ashley’s memories flitting into his brain sporadically. Seeing decades of a relationship pass in a matter of seconds is highly emotional, even without the theme of loss that creates part of the core of the film.
‘I still smoked then… And now look; I’m the one who’s still living.’
Humans are, despite being fairly illogical, often transfixed and by the complete lack of logic to life and death. People can be told they have a year to live and then defy all expectations to live another ten or twenty. The fittest and healthiest of us might die young from some underlying condition, or have their lives cut short in an accident. We try so hard to make sense of everything and are angry when it doesn’t seem logical or fair. And if something isn’t fair we ask the universe why. But she never answers. As Ashley and Emma walk through the forest, contemplating, dealing with and suffering the loss of Sandro, an intimate amount of silence is experienced. The pair stop at different locations, partly to absorb the natural life around them, and perhaps partly to listen for the answers to the unanswerable questions. As Emma points out: science is good at explaining the how, but rarely ever the why.
Ashley and Emma are both experiencing their own individual grief – it’s an isolating feeling because everyone processes grief differently and consequently it can seem as if you are completely alone. But they are open and honest with one another in sharing their memories, their feelings and their fears. Eleanor Moseley and Martyn G. Krouse perfectly balance the personalities of their characters with a complex nexus of emotions. They are not over dramatized but instead capture what feels like a real life conversation with real, true emotions.
The conversation meanders around all the topics of life and death, from the huge overarching concepts right down to unique personal experiences. The writing is excellent – even when discussing the fact that everything in life is temporary, it doesn’t feel grandiose or pretentions; simply pure and unadulterated observation. We see Emma and Ashley constantly observing their surroundings. The cinematography reflects this nicely in a long shot of the pair walking along a woodland path. They are completely overwhelmed by their surroundings – their loss may be but a small drop in the ocean on a global scale, which Vass reminds us of not to belittle the individual experience, but to reinforce a sort of collective understanding of loss that affects us all at some stage. The presence of nature, and the fact it continues to live regardless of the greatest traumas that affect our lives, is comforting. The natural world reminds us of new growth, and has the uncanny ability to will us to continue even when we feel like we have nothing left.
A shot I really love is a literal representation of feeling the sun on your face; Ashley stands in silence, turned towards the dappled light creeping through the leaves. It is at this point we realise the film isn’t filled with self-reflexive silence, but rather the sounds of the forest; the birds, the wind, the crunch of footsteps on the floor. Perspective is key. When we see life as something to be simply lived, rather than something to be achieved, what pressures do we relieve ourselves of? When we pay attention to the sun on our face, or the smell of freshly cut grass, or appreciate the company of the ones we love while we have them, can we learn to accept and enjoy the current moment for what it is? As humans, we love to secularise our lives. The past, present and future; failures and achievements; before and after; now and then. Love and loss. What Vass has tenderly portrayed is how all of these things are an integral part of the fabric of the human condition. No matter how much we fight it and want to prevent transitions through these phases, we can’t. Everything we experience becomes a part of us, for better or for worse, and we move through it, overcome it or simply learn to accept it.
For me, one of the most poignant moments of the film is when Ashley asks if they will reach the top soon as they walk along though the woods, to which Emma replies, pausing to stand in the sunshine; ‘I don’t know, here is good too.’ They didn’t have to make it to the top for their journey to be worthwhile. This subtle metaphor meant so much to me, and is a brilliant example of the complete care and attention Nathan Vass has woven into his film.
With humility and gentleness, Vass has bestowed life onto Men I Trust. The film itself lives and breathes because of him, both physically and metaphorically. Supported by excellent writing, cinematography and an impeccable cast, Men I Trust is a beautiful homage to life and love itself.