I Don't Know Who You Are is a visceral race against time for a critical drug
WARNING: This article con‐ tains mention of sexual as‐ sault.
919 dollars and 57 cents. That's the critical sum at the centre of the new film Don't Know Who You Are, the feature film debut from di‐ rector M.H. Murray.
Every day, the news is filled with those living their lives on the margins. People battling soaring rent, food prices and more. What would you do if suddenly you had to pay out of pocket for lifechanging medication? What if you had nothing left?
This is the power of ID‐ KWYA - how it humanizes the statistics, embedding us in
Ithe predicament of Ben‐ jamin, a musician, played by Mark Clennon.
The story opens with Ben‐ jamin consoling himself, after a date with his boyfriend Malcom goes sideways. At a party, Benjamin drowns his sorrows with champagne and commiserates with his friends. On the way home alone, Benjamin has an en‐ counter with a stranger that leads to a shocking sexual as‐ sault.
While the flashing yellow caution light seen moments before may seem precious, what follows is raw and all too real. Shaken and still pro‐ cessing the attack, Benjamin is tracked down by his friend Ariel (a wonderfully warm presence played by Nat Patri‐ cia Manuel), who was also at the party, and encourages him to go to the ER.
A critical drug and a ticking clock
At the rapid-test clinic and ER, the staff question Ben‐ jamin tenderly; Murray cast people who work in health care in real life. Much of what they get in response are silent nods as the musician retreats into himself, hiding behind his hoodie. But the course of action is clear.
The ER doctor writes Ben‐ jamin a prescription for PEP, an HIV prevention drug, that costs $919.57. The treatment regimen must begin within 72 hours of exposure to be effective. The clock is already ticking, but Benjamin is tapped out. He just paid rent. He sent the last of what little money he had to his parents in Jamaica.
At the drug store where Benjamin sees the pills he can't afford, the pharmacist can only utter bland apolo‐ gies. With an empty fridge and overdue invoices, Ben‐ jamin begins scouring his list of contacts, trying to scrounge together the mon‐ ey.
An aching sense of shame and insecurity
Shot quick and fast on a mi‐ cro budget, I Don't Know Who You Are offers an unfil‐ tered look at how easy it is to fall through the cracks, while also showing how artists and the queer community sup‐ port each other in the face of a heartless health-care sys‐ tem. Murray's camera hovers nearby as we watch Ben‐ jamin process his ordeal, selfmedicating with wine, ap‐ proaching old friends and hiding his desperation be‐ hind a shaky smile.
There's a bracing vulnera‐ bility to Clennon as Benjamin that grounds his 48-hour journey, as the musician bat‐ tles through a cycle of shame and self-sabotage while somehow still trying to prepare for an upcoming show.
Murray, who's worked with Clennon before, brought the actor on board as a writer and editor, too, allow‐ ing him to add aspects of his own life to the film, including his apartment, cat and music. In fact, the scene where Clen‐ non sings, "I'm not sure I re‐ member when I need your help" was inspired by the ac‐ tor's conversation with the director. Murray told CBC News he wept on set when he heard the song for the first time.
From Clennon's input, to the real-life people playing medical professionals, and the director's own lived expe‐ rience that inspired the film, there's a veracity to Benjam‐ in's struggle that makes up for a somewhat over-tidy ending. I Don't Know Who You Are demonstrates you don't need a massive budget for what is a compelling eng‐ ine of empathy and a show‐ case for an exciting new per‐ former.
I Don't Know Who You Are is open in select theatres across Canada.
For anyone who has been sexually assaulted, there is support available through crisis lines and local support services via the Ending Vio‐ lence Association of Canada database. If you're in imme‐ diate danger or fear for your safety or that of others around you, please call 911.