Simz says: “I definitely left the visual side to Sam and the writing side to Caroline, but my thing throughout was just: Do I believe it?” From the conversations to Sage’s actions to the connections between Annie and Sage and Sage and Omar, authenticity was the crucial thread, much like within Simz’ own music.įor Adeyemi, that meant allowing space for flaws, too: “With Sage and Omar, I really wanted it to be clear that they were a healthy Black couple.
#I hate you i love you full
In the end, after countless back and forth, drafting, and redrafting-even I’ve been sent two or three different versions of the film over the course of writing this article-the full team landed on believability as a guiding principle. A big fan of experimental filmmakers such as Lars Von Trier, Adeyemi is amused as she recalls, “There was a wolf! It was heavy on the symbolism of the moon, that kind of stuff.” The main plot remained intact, but the functions and themes were more experimental, more metaphorical, more drastic. “I thought okay, I’m going to do that is just me exploding the whole thing out, to cross the barriers, and see where it can go? It was a mess,” she says, laughing. I thought it would be dope to just try something new, and if I’m in a position to do that and I think someone’s talented and hardworking and a good person,” Simz poses the question to no one in particular, with an audible smile, “why not collaborate, why not make magic?”Īfter the first draft, which she describes as “restrained,” Adeyemi had the idea to try to stretch the script to its furthest extremities in order to find its boundaries. “I didn’t go to film school, I haven’t analyzed scripts or anything like that, so it was actually nice to not have anything to compare it to.” And she had Simz’ full support: “I think her writing is beautiful, she does a lot of poetry and short stories. “I’ve written my whole life and I’d say I’m a confident storyteller, but I’ve obviously never done this medium before,” she explains.
#I hate you i love you free
From there, Adeyemi had free rein to explore. Simz had the character names, Sage and Omar, she wanted it to be based on I Love You, I Hate You, and she had an outline: Sage and Omar are in a relationship, but the baggage of Sage’s relationship with her dad in the past starts to bleed into their own. In a sparse, dusty guest room of the house, writer Adeyemi, who’s Simz’ cousin, tells me how she remembers the first email she got about the project. With a script written by poet Caroline Adeyemi, and directed by Sam Pilling, the story the team chose to tell here is the less obvious one: a meditation on unresolved trauma, and the recurring role it plays in one’s life in terms of creativity, expression, and interpersonal relationships. However, this debut short film reinterprets the message of its namesake song with a far broader perspective.
One that has resonated on a huge scale with fans, and signaled a shift in terms of storytelling for Little Simz-an artist who has always been introspective and emotive but who also maintained a substantial layer of discretion between her public and private life. Her story of parenthood, betrayal, and father-daughter dynamics is a compelling one. Announced with widescreen orchestral fanfare, a bumbling bassline, hyperactive drums, and a vocal loop that tosses and turns between love and hate, the single draws on Simz’ own journey coming to terms with the complex and often-conflicting feelings she found herself holding for her father. Unearthing her long-swallowed feelings toward her absent dad and their relationship, the track is a standout on arguably her most critically-acclaimed and indisputably her most commercially successful album yet.
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