SXSW 2022: Chee$e
documentarian style, set in Trinidad and Tobago, the film takes us places we don’t normally see. The film’s protagonist, Skimma, lives in a small village on a remote island. After he stumbles onto a vast marijuana field, he decides to get into the drug business as a supplier. He’s desperate to make his way off the island, but there are forces at work that keep him from leaving, some real, some mystical. Serving as the writer, cinematographer, and director, and coming from the same region, Damian Marcano shows us how life is like on the island in a very real and personal way. Once Skimma learns that he might be a father after a one-night stand, he starts escalating his cannabis production, selling it in blocks of cheese that heighten its potency, in hopes to support his unborn child.
Chee$e is a trip. The colors are overly saturated, the music is constantly pulsating, and even the subtitles have a Tony Scott-influenced panache. Skimma’s product causes his customers to hallucinate—it has something to do with the way the cheese encases the pot, unlocking its hidden potential. Watching Chee$e puts you under a similar influence. It feels real—the day-to-day routine on the island is captured vividly—but once we’re introduced to the town mystic, the surreal makes the film a lot more interesting. Skimma’s relationship with his father informs his actions now, but a decade’s long curse starts to stir the emotional pot.
The village is a tourist attraction, but we as the audience have more of a connection to its residents than any outsider. Akil Gerard Williams as Skimma is perfectly cast, going from funny, heartfelt, and deadly serious whenever the film calls for it. He takes on the mantle of the Ray Liotta in Goodfellas in this story exceedingly well. The supporting players, some real residents from the region, from shop owners, cheesemakers, spiritual figures, and local drug dealers, feel real and, like the location themselves, they’re fully realized and lived in. It all makes for a fantastic tapestry—an ensemble that’s just as vibrant as the visuals themselves.
The story is enthralling as the tension builds; Skimma’s operation tries to fly under the radar of the local police force, and his desire to get cash quick has him involved with dangerous drug dealers. The most frustrating part of the film is its end, or lack of one. With so many interesting threads, the abruptness of the film’s credits feels like a gut-punch. Marcano has said that Chee$e is the first part of a proposed trilogy, and it certainly feels like there’s much more story to tell. It’s frustrating to know the cliffhanger is intentional, but it’s also incredible to learn that this was initially shot as a series of 8 15-minute episodes. It doesn’t feel like a series of vignettes cut together, it feels like a fully formed feature film. If we never see a Chee$e 2, we still have this film that does so much worth talking about in its singular runtime.
