Trigger Warning: The following article contains mentions of sexual assault that may be disturbing to some readers. The documentary-style short film Love, Laugh, Doom, Tears, written, directed, produced, and starring Nhung Thi Cam Nguyen, which premiered at the 2021 Culver City Film Festival delves deep into the mind of Nhung, a woman who survives and processes a brutal assault and rape.
The movie was very well received at the Culver City Film Festival where she won the Special Filmmaker Award.
Vietnamese filmmaker Nhung Nguyen turns the camera on herself to take us through her dating journey as a single, 30-year-old Vietnamese woman coming to Los Angeles (and the United States) for the first time. It starts with high hopes and excitement but spirals downward when she gives in to the sexting game of the man she loves.
Love, Laugh, Doom, Tears is an intimate journey into Nhung’s mind as we witness how she survives the brutal attack and how her mind processed the sequence of events that led up to it. The movie is a haunting and dreamlike depiction of the emotional rollercoaster Nhung goes through as she comes to the realization of what has happened to her and the steps she takes towards healing.
Nhung Thi Cam Nguyen sat down with Reel 360 to share more intimate details of how the film came to be, where she took her inspiration from, and what she has planned in her future.
Why was it important for you both as a woman and a Vietnamese woman to share this story?
About a year and a half ago, I was in a relationship with a white man ten years my senior, who sexually assaulted me in my apartment. Along with my health and emotion, I felt defeated because I lost control over my sexuality, mind, and identity. Everything that I used to take pride in as a strong independent woman crashed. I have never been aware of consent in an intimate relationship. I only realized that he raped me three months later, thanks to the conversation with my female friend.
At the time, I realized one of the most powerful ways to regain control and own the narrative of my actual life events and trauma is to tell this story. Of course, there are senses of revenge, confusion, and anger, but in that circumstance, the best thing I can do is claim back everything that man had taken away from me.
Being here on my own, without my family or somebody from the same culture or speaking the same language, I feel isolated. I also know that I am not ready to share this story with my loved ones back home and that the idea of consent in an intimate relationship can be beyond their understanding.
I thought of my mother, my sister, and other women I grew up with back in Vietnam when making the film. If they experienced sexual assault in intimate relationships, they would likely bury it underneath their self-blame most of the time.
So telling this story, I hope to start a conversation about sexual violence in intimate relationships among women of color. I feel empowered by being highly vulnerable, brutally honest, and embracing my cultural identity as a Vietnamese American woman.
Did you find Love, Laugh, Doom, Tears therapeutic?
My house is in a constant mess, just like my mind and the production of this film.
There are days I wake up only to want to go back to bed, asking myself if I can skip filming a particular scene of this movie.
Or even there is a movie to be made.
Who is this film for?
Who is going to watch this?
At first, I thought that I would make this film on behalf of other women who are sexual assault survivors, especially those who share the same cultural background and current situation as me. They may not have the platform to express the traumatic experience they got.
The fact that I have to shoot this on my own adds another layer of mental and physical labor: the eagerness of pulling something off in front of the camera dies as I sweat with equipment to get a perfect shot.
After a few initial vital scenes, I face a bigger question: what makes this film different than others touching on the same topic?
Of course, some friends and colleagues know and care for me, but if I want this film to go as far as possible, I have to face the truth: Why do people care? I do not make this film to ask for sympathy.
I do not make this film to relive the trauma nor justify my responsibility to let this happen to me.
No, this is not self-blame, but a lesson learned so I can make better choices in the future.
I do not make this film to be a man-hater. I have been supported by many kind people out there, of all genders, to help me get through this.
After many chaotic moments of struggling, self-reflecting, and honestly, a bunch of therapy, I realize that I made this film first and foremost for myself.
For myself, as a filmmaker who has the gut to touch upon a highly complex subject matter.
As a subject and a performer, I channel my pains into action.
For myself, as a fearless woman who keeps wondering what will wait for me if I put myself out there, bare my soul and body on the big screen for people to watch, and say what they want to say about what I did and said.
I tried to sleep this film away. I tried so many times to run away from it, having a plan B to shoot something else, procrastinate and even torture the ones I love when I have to go through this.
After all, the only reason that makes me want to get up in the morning (or the middle of the night) to shoot is the burning desire to tell my truth. To own the narrative. To heal. To move on. To be empowered. To allow me to be whoever I want to be, I used to prohibit myself from being that ugly, angry, and stupid.
I don’t know how many people will watch this or go through the end of this, and if they walk away, telling themselves, “This is just another rape movie.” If they do, it’s no big deal.
But if they do sit through it and at least remember one thing I said and did, I think I have made a good friend because this is one of the most personal things I have ever done in my life.
Because everything I did in life until this point is for me to make this happen.
Do you still use dating apps?
I actually deleted all of the dating apps right after I got into the relationship with the man who ended up raping me. It was also interesting that I did have to download it to get the organic match for the shooting of the film.
An obscene amount of matches keep creating noises on my phone and my mind, even though I posted two pictures of my hands! I think the app itself is not necessarily good or bad; it is a personal choice. After this experience, I teach myself to be happy on my own and love myself truly before I even think of finding true love.
I have so many other friends who end up finding the love of their lives on dating apps, and it is my personal choice that I would rather see the person in real life build trust before anything can happen. That may be something the rush of adrenaline and hormones on the app may not be able to provide.
REELated: See who else is on the Reel Women List
Has your experience changed the way you view others, particularly those of the opposite sex?
I think any adult has the right to pursue any sexual fantasy and explore their sexuality, as long as it is consensual. After the trauma, I did feel a terror of panic and unsafe when I had to face someone that looked like that man, especially when we had to wear masks.
The thought of the unknown is always overwhelming. But during the making of the film, I’ve realized that anyone of any gender can be a survivor, knowing someone of a survivor who supports me in so many ways that that person can.
So yes, I move on watching out for my safety and making sure that my boundaries are communicated and respected. Still, I am working with the therapeutic resources to keep me on my healing journey. The experience did leave an imprint of memory on my mind and body, but it will not forever determine how I see men.
Love, Laugh, Doom, Tears has a lot of erotic imagery like the bananas and rose in your mouth and fisting the fabric; what made you decide to include scenes like this, where did you take your inspiration from?
I do not want to shy away from my sexuality. In fact, by recreating those sensual symbols that represent a human being’s sexuality, I want to remind myself that there is nothing wrong with having those desires. They are beautiful, sometimes innocent and illusioned, but they deserve a safe space to be nurtured, rather than put in the wrong hand and use it against me.
There is, of course a fine line between erotic for the sake of being erotic and the artistic sensuality that comes with intention. I hope the ones in my film belong to the latter.
Inspiration is mainly from Meshes of the Afternoon by Maya Deren. In the film, we see images of the key, the roses, the knife over the bread to symbolize women’s sexuality and violence against the female body.
How is Love, Laugh, Doom, Tears being received by audiences? have women approached you to share their own stories of sexual assault survival?
The film was finished in October 2021, but it took me two months to be able to send it to festivals. On the day of screening it at the Culver City Film Festival, I was excited, nervous, and scared, knowing that my friends, professors, and colleagues would be there to watch it. The audience is the people who know me for the first time or know me as their sisters and daughter.
At that screening, I got such a huge amount of love, support, understanding and sharing. Some ask me if I press any charge, some embrace my courage of putting the story out there. A friend insisted that I learn her number by heart so that anything like this happens or is likely to happen, I must call her first.
I especially got a lot of significant reactions for the scenes of the Vietnam war at the end of the film – something that I used to avoid as a distant past. But here I am, the toxic masculinity inflicted on a woman in her 30s, coming to America in 2019, experiencing the violence just like colonialism in my motherland several decades ago. An imperfect victim, a woman ready to embrace her sexuality and wants to claim it back. I also want to represent the most authentic version of myself – unlike what the media may portray.
And I believe that is universal to every woman, no matter where she comes from.
Most of all, I have always been afraid and tiptoe on the women’s reaction coming from my culture. What warms my heart is that one of my mentors, who is Vietnamese, told me that it is the time to tell this story because if all of us choose to suffer in silence, shame, and guilt, the cycle of sexual violence will go on.
I think it takes a lot for a woman to share their story of sexual abuse, so even though I cannot say it details how the sharing happened, I do have a lot of women coming to me and telling me that she got abused, and either we have a deep conversation about it. After the film, I also got included in the sisterhood of a community that supports survivors, and SAAN (Sexual Assault Advocacy Network) is one of them.
Did your assailant face any consequences for his actions?
The process of reporting the assault to the authority is one of the significant milestones of my healing process. However, I do have to say that the process is very daunting and almost technical. After the final cut, I made a call that I had been waiting for nearly seven months.
A two-hour interview where I have to answer questions such as Did you tell him to stop? Why did you not tell him to stop? Why did you allow him to stay the night after the assault? Did trigger me on so many levels.
In the end, I realized due to the limited time and resources; I did not prosecute. In fact, according to RAAIN, every 68 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted. Meanwhile, only 25 out of 1,000 perpetrators will end up in prison. Even though there is no direct correlation of the fact that survivors did not have the legal and mental resources to press the charge, I do believe that we can do a better job of creating a system that supports survivors to report, to feel heard rather than swimming all alone in the ocean of legalities and end up giving up on their journey of justice.
Do you feel your art opens the door for conversations about the dangers women face in the dating world?
Looking at the history of documentary and experimental films, we will see countless women filmmakers have brilliantly explored the topic of subjective sexuality and sexual violence. Biographical or not, the issue has always been there. The generation of female filmmakers has brought them to our attention through the art of moving images with the hope for changes, healing, and prevention for the women coming after us. For anyone of any gender, really. I feel humbled, inspired, and healed as an emerging artist in that sisterhood, knowing that I am not alone in that challenging journey.
Of course, on the surface in our contemporary dating world, it looks like women have all kinds of freedom, make the call, and decide what will happen to their bodies. However, I also want to acknowledge that misogyny and sexism can be internalized, and it may not be changed overnight with technology. Somebody who comes online with a picture and the best words they can say about themselves does not always guarantee the best dating or sexual experience for the other party. Thus, I hope that the film does bring the complexity struggles and how a woman like me, a woman of color coming from a different culture, has to navigate with a thin glimpse of hope for love.
What inspired you to make this ?
All of the female filmmakers, the female performing artists whose bodies are their canvas, pop culture about women’s sexuality, and the talent and love of the women I call mentors.
How difficult was it for you to share your very personal and private experiences?
It is surreal that I wrote down a narrative script with details of every movement, but then during the shooting, most of it took place from the images in my head to the scene. During the production, I keep reminding myself that if I can confess, show and talk to the camera with my body, emotions, and action, I will be healed and regain my control, power, and identity.
It is fascinating that I almost did not feel any pain at all after I called cut for every shot. However, the biggest challenge occurred during the editing process, where I had to wear the hat of an editor and a director. I have to be aware and make choices. Often, I debated between the role of a subject who wants to include as much as I can in the film, and the fact that I do have the ethnicity and responsibility of a filmmaker. After the movie, after many cuts, I realized that I have been doing everything I can to be honest, open, and considerate to those who share the same experience with me.
Tell us about your next project.
This film has taught me that personal documentary is where I blossom, and even after such a traumatic experience, I still can fall in love. My next film is another personal documentary called Let’s talk about love. Again. I found a man who made me feel safe and loved like never before and came from the same cultural background. However, due to the countless odds of us being two young struggling artists, that love is not always dove and roses, but bringing out the pains in the past of how my neglecting dad has unconsciously shaped the unconscious pattern in the relationship. In the end, it is a quest for self-compassion with the hope of getting out of the traumatic past to live the life I deserve. Again.
If you or someone you know has been affected by sexual violence, RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline offers free, confidential, 24/7 support in English and Spanish at 800-656-HOPE(4673) and via online chat at online.RAINN.org y en Espanol s RAINN.org/es
Joia DaVida reports on the entertainment industry in both Chicago and Los Angeles.
