The idea of representation in movies is often limited to superficial gestures of putting on screen people who look a certain way. Kokomo City is a reminder of cinema's possibilities when one really tries to queer filmmaking itself, with genuine queer voices driving a production. This documentary is messy and incredibly playful in its style—in ways that might read to some as lacking cohesiveness, or as tonally inconsistent. But the way director D. Smith is able to capture the dynamic energy of a series of conversations makes these powerful, funny, tragic anecdotes and dialogues feel truly grounded in people's everyday experiences, and makes the plea for protection of trans lives all the more urgent.

Throughout Kokomo City, this collection of individuals goes off on various tangents that never become difficult to follow. They speak about the nature of sex work, hidden desires felt by traditionally masculine male clients, and various degrees of acceptance within the Black community. And between these statements alternating from impassioned to emotional to humorously candid, Smith injects cheeky cutaway footage, layers text on screen, and plays an eclectic rotation of music throughout. It's about as real and as three-dimensional as these trans lives have ever been shown on screen.

It's tough to pick a favorite person or excerpt from Kokomo City, when all of these voices have such strong, unapologetic perspectives towards the ways they deserve to be seen and treated. All of their testimonials are so good, in fact, that you do forget that this is essentially just a talking heads documentary—a subgenre often seen as boring that Smith easily makes exciting and so watchable. Shooting everything in naturally lit black-and-white, she frames her characters against their homes and the spaces where they're most comfortable and unafraid of being vulnerable. It's a genuinely inspired choice, subtly turning Kokomo City into a portrait of a place and time just as much as it is about people.