THE STORY – At an artists’ retreat, insecure trans cartoonist Al is caught in a love triangle between his best friend and his creative nemesis. He must win his best friend’s heart by learning to draw his feelings honestly.
THE CAST – EJ Marcus, Morgan Sullivan & Sydney Mae Diaz
THE TEAM – Andy Fidoten (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 84 Minutes
For many, reminiscing about a period of time in one’s youth can be an exercise that is both joyous and terrifying. After all, being young represents a bright path forward of endless possibilities and optimism for the future. It’s also a state that is not at all free of anxieties, as the transition into a more firmly established adulthood can also leave one aimless in a constantly antagonistic world. It’s even harder when there is another layer to that transition, one that interrogates the body and mind in such a fundamental way. “Something You Should Know About Me” exists at these crossroads, inhabiting the chaotic headspace of fractured relationships during an existential crisis while also offering a uniquely defined perspective on queer identity. It’s a fascinating moment to capture, which the film does so through its endearing, if inconsistently engaging, sentiment.
Al (EJ Marcus) has a life most can recognize as that of a mid-twenties person. He holds down an unfulfilling office job meant to support the artistic path that gives him more passion. However, he is on the receiving end of sexual advances from his boss, whose interest stems from Al’s trans identity, and his efforts to publicize his cartoons and illustrations have been met with roadblocks. Being invited to a week-long artists’ retreat feels like just the thing he needs right now. It’s especially alluring because his best friend Jesse (Morgan Sullivan) is also attending. He’s a rambunctious soul that Al has secretly been pining for ever since they were teenagers. Still, this new environment doesn’t alleviate much of Al’s insecurities, particularly when Mason (Sydney Mae Diaz) shows up. He is effortlessly charming and confident, and the possible entanglement between him and Jesse sends Al into a spiral. During this time, Al must not only deal with the emotional conflict between these new relationships but also examine his own sense of worth. It’s a difficult journey he must traverse in order to find that self-fulfillment necessary for a contented existence.
Writer-director Andy Fidoten hones in on just how much this person is fighting against a world that seems determined to undermine his abilities. He uses Marcus’s small frame to literally force that contrast with those around him, seeming diminished in an environment that can literally tower over him. That’s what makes the intimacy in the camp setting so endearing, particularly when focused on the trio trying to figure out their ultimate dynamic. These conflicts are also amusingly rendered through animated sequences that convey Al’s artistic sensibilities and showcase his inner turmoil. The recollection of his gender-affirming surgery turns into a frightening description of pizza toppings, which is a humorous allegory that underlines that introverted terror. The need to become emotionally vulnerable is displayed as a horrific talent show filled with mocking individuals. The animation is crude, but it has a lot of personality, making it engaging at the same time.
However, it’s a setting that can also grow frustrating because the storytelling often feels rushed. There’s very little done to lay a foundation for many of these characters. Jesse isn’t seen until Al arrives at the establishment, and the other artists in residence, apart from Mason, are given broadly defined characterizations that hardly go much beneath the surface. Not that every minor character deserves a deep psychological analysis, but they all represent a wide range of viewpoints on queer life, mostly used for light banter amid the real drama at the core.
In fairness, that drama is much more compelling because it underscores both the specificity and universality of this situation. Becoming insecure not only about showcasing one’s art but also about the fragility of established friendships is indeed captivating, but exploring these concepts through an unapologetically trans lens gives the material even more weight. However, it would be more engaging if the film were more confident in living in quiet spaces. The musical soundtrack is an oppressive array of indie rock that plays on a constant loop, hindering many of the subtler moments of the performances from breaking through. It’s no coincidence that the film’s most impactful moment, when Al is deadnamed during a heated conversation, and Jesse comes to his defense, is so compelling because it’s one of the few instances when all we hear is the ambient noise. It’s so still but deeply serious, an important contrast to the lighter tone that’s been established. An intentional distinction, but the instance of littering much of the film with such an intrusive musical presence drowns out the potential for other scenes to land with a similar force.
Marcus brings considerable energy to the role of Al, which is vital to a successful execution. After all, his meekness and low self-esteem can easily tip into irritable terrain and make him unlikable. Yet, the sensitivity that runs throughout is a relatable feature, and his performance can embody a nuanced portrait. The character’s framework may seem familiar, but Marcus offers an honest portrayal that is no less engrossing. The same can be said for Diaz, who immediately offers up a magnetic screen presence that completely justifies this crew becoming smitten by him. He inhabits a true charisma without ever being too rambunctious or unrealistically perfect. There’s a nonchalant energy that is intriguing to watch, easily falling under the spell and displaying a captivating aura. Sullivan makes Jesse a constant beam of brightness that justifies the friendship, though the constant smile in every scene can grow tiresome. Like the music, he can be another aspect of the storytelling, meant to contrast with the darker mindset of the other characters. Still, as a fixture of Al’s affection, his performance undersells a more complicated person who could be known. When called upon to become a more serious figure, his portrayal is effective, but not as much given the overall importance of this relationship at hand.
What makes “Something You Should Know About Me” mostly work is its full commitment to embracing its identity. It operates within that cross-section of being very specific that also reaches a level of universality. The ultimate success of the narrative comes from peering into a story about navigating the sea of anxiety every young person faces, but doing so through a perspective that dissects the gender politics of the modern era gives this tale a unique flavor. Still, much of this effort could be more successful. The scope of characters needs a narrower focus, and the tone isn’t properly balanced between its lighter and serious moments. Still, the charming ensemble makes this a worthy effort, especially for the glimpse into a community that goes through the same trials and tribulations as everyone else. It’s a necessary example, however imperfect it may be in the end.
