But for its extremely uncomfortable look at Rwandan poverty, the adjective for Mutiganda Wa Nkunda’s Nameless would be “charming”. When it begins, we see a middle-aged man pawing at a waitress, his friend looking on. Both men have just ended a mutually whiny discussion on the shape of women they prefer now that their wives have become “disgusting”.
The handsy session culminates in what the man perceives as disrespect from the object of his lust. And not long after we see the bar owner upbraiding her employee about her misbehavior: so what if she has to play whore? Not quite willing to hear the waitress’s objections, the owner fires her.
In essence, within the first few scenes, Nameless has offered a look at how money, class, and sexism work in Rwandan business and maybe in business everywhere. And yet, it doesn’t feel like it’s the end of the world for Kathy, the now unemployed waitress, who later comes across Philbert, one of her former customers, on the street. Shot with what appears to a handheld device that occasions a less-than-sleek shake within a scene, the episode on the street is watchable mostly on the strength of its performers, both of whom have the same unvarnished capacity that Nameless itself has. There is nothing super-flirtatious about their exchange, but the proximity of their bodies as they talk about matters unrelated to romance suggests more than the content of their lines.
At this stage, Nameless appears to be the type of film that seeks to present the svelte humanity that is possible even within personal and interpersonal lack. Philbert lives in a cramped apartment and the first time Kathy comes to visit, he asks a neighborhood boy to buy him something from a store nearby. He tells his visitor that he has been unemployed since he graduated years ago. She tells him about her family and starts to cry. The shots have strange angles, given the cramped nature of the room they’re in, and it’s a small wonder how the film was shot. When this pair starts a family, the physical set-up of the room is going to have repercussions.
There are any number of films that represent the end of the affair or its teething problems. Not long ago, memes and short videos were made from the Adam Driver-Scarlett Johansson argument in A Marriage Story. There is one to rival that scene in Nameless. It starts small and then escalates into a full-blown war, where each party attempts to outdo the other in insults. In A Marriage Story, there is a lot to look to at aesthetically. In Nameless, the entire thing is so harsh, you want to escape the hurt and the squalor of these two people who maybe should not have started a family or even a relationship in the midst of such material poverty. But how do you legislate the emotional yearning of two consensual adults? There is an argument to be made for how the brutality of the world can perhaps be made easier if the impoverished are able to create a romantic bubble—but, as Nameless seems to say, at a certain level of lack, every bubble made by the poor would burst.
For Philbert, his manhood and his youthful dreams are at stake. He has met a former schoolmate who has started to make it big in the film business, even travelling to Paris to meet his boss. The filmmaker is played by his real life equivalent and is a bit self-serving, but that’s no real crime in this small picture that should be seen by more people—but would need some technical overhaul to win over more viewers outside of the festival circuit.
Director, screenplay: Mutiganda Wa Nkunda
Cast: Yves Kijyana, Colombe Mukeshimana
Producer: Yuhi Amuli, Tanit Films, Izacu Am Theater
Editing: Orange Studio
Casting: Yves Kijyana, Colombe Mukeshimana
Distribution: Orange Studio
International sales: Orange Studio
Runtime: 85 minutes
