“After being stuck with the guardianship of their annoying, bookworm nephew, two brothers in Compton CA have to decide if they are willing to take on the responsibility of being caretakers.”
This short film will screen with other short films in Block 3 | Celebrating Black Voices
Friday, December 9th at 4pm
Palm Springs Art Museum. Palm Springs, California.
Buy Tickets Here
“After being stuck with the guardianship of their annoying, bookworm nephew, two brothers in Compton CA have to decide if they are willing to take on the responsibility of being caretakers.”
Growing up in poverty, Victor Gabriel realized that water in cornflakes doesn’t taste as bad as you think it would. He wandered without a home before eventually ending up in Compton CA. Now as a black male writer/director and recent MFA graduate of AFI Conservatory, he has turned to filmmaking as a way for him to wrestle with his own suffering as well as the suffering of others. He holds an MA in Clinical Psychology and has been working as a Marriage and Family Therapist with survivors of trauma in Compton/Watts/South Central for the past several years. His short film Black Boys Can’t Cry, is currently being shown in festivals. His favorite movie is Richard Donner’s Superman. He likes Red Vines and thinks Twizzlers are trash. Big FACTS.
Several years ago my little brother was shot and killed. He was a good kid; he turned his life away from the streets and became a youth pastor. He was a diminutive, skinny guy with a huge
chest…like awkwardly so. The motherfucker looked weird if I’m being completely honest with you. Then, I woke up one day and he was gone.
I, like many, have had loved ones pass. My Uncle whose butt crack showed because he was overweight and didn’t feel the need to mix in an ab workout. My Grandfather who prayed for me but because of my selfishness, I didn’t have a relationship with him by the time he passed. I wish I could have told them I loved them more than I did. But I didn’t. Odd, the finality of death. Wake up one day and everything is completely different.
I shot Hallelujah in my literal backyard. In the Kelly Park section of Compton CA. Replete with Mama Debbie, reminding us to wipe everything down because it was during the Pandemic and
she “ain’t playing games with none of yall! ” My neighbor Miss Louise even allowed us to shoot in her front yard, (shoutout to Miss Louise). The block I live on was happy to let me rock and I
appreciate it. It’s weird to live a couple of feet away from the set and wake up with a bunch of equipment in your face, but my whole team was amazing and I’m grateful for what they gave
me. They allowed me to fumble and fall as we got it out the mud. By the end of it, we made something beautiful.
Blessings.
