Alexander Farah began his filmmaking journey in a film studies course that he enrolled in at UBC, despite his degree mainly being focusing on science classes. In a statement to The Ubyssey, Farah explained he “fell in love with the academic part of discussing films."
“It really opened my world,” he wrote, “in terms of how rich, complex and thought-provoking it is to make films.”
Now, Farah primarily works as an editor for short-form content like narrative films, commercials, music videos and trailers. He directed a music video in 2021 called “Meet You At The Light,” which “gave [him] a lot more confidence to continue writing and directing.”
His newest directorial project, “One Day This Kid,” was screened at the Vancouver Short Film Festival this June. A beautiful and deeply emotional story, the film follows a young Afghan-Canadian boy, Hamed, on a journey towards understanding his sexuality and how it impacts his relationships, particularly with his father.
The film does not adhere to a traditionally linear plot; rather, it follows Hamed from childhood into adulthood, depicting specific moments throughout his life, asking viewers to consider how family, religion, culture and relationships intersect in complex ways with Queer identity.
“One Day This Kid” manages to tell a complete and satisfying story within minutes without cutting back on details or emotional depth. The film moves at a fast pace, jumping through time with snapshots of Hamed’s life — going to the pool with his father and sister, learning how to play instruments, hanging-out with friends and going on road trips with his partner.
While the film’s dialogue is primarily in Dari and Farsi with moments in English, its story also unfolds visually through Hamed’s eyes, allowing viewers to witness his life as he sees it. The film frequently refrains from offering direct answers — a lot is left unsaid which the audience must piece together from the film's visuals.
Farah explained that creating this film “feels like a privilege … but also at times, a bit nerve-racking. Because I’m certainly not a monolith or stand-in, for all Afghan people. I can only comment on my own experiences, with the hopes of eventually reaching others like myself.”
Representing Afghan culture is important to Farah, and he wishes that such relatable depictions of his identity were available to him when he was a child.
“Any sort of exposure to a film like this, or a filmmaker like myself, would have made me feel less alone and less closed off to everything around me growing up,” he wrote.
The film ends with a heart-wrenchingly emotional and open-ended scene. Hamed sits in his car listening to a voicemail from his father, who expresses remorse for his behaviour and tells Hamed that he loves him. While it is never explicitly stated that Hamed’s father did not accept his son’s sexuality it is heavily implied throughout the second half of the film, and that tension finally finds resolution in this scene.
This final moment allows Hamed to see his father as a flawed human being who has caused pain in his life but, despite their fraught relationship, ultimately does love and care for his son. While it is never explicitly shown if Hamed chooses to work towards repairing his relationship with his father, it raises the question of whether apologizing is enough and if forgiveness is possible.
"I think making a film like this encouraged me to confront blindspots in my own life," wrote Farah. "Certain things that I haven't quite fully processed, or tried to make more of an attempt to understand."
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