The Wickedest

Filmmaker and poet Femi (Poor) spins an ecstatic story of one night in South London’s underground party scene. The monthly party, or shoob, takes place in a secret location called The Wickedest, and Femi documents the event with a mix of English sonnets, prose poems, and experimental verse wrapped around photos along with running definitions of shoob (“faaji, groove, bashment, house party, owambe,” and more). Among the recurring characters are Lala, the party organizer, who witnesses her ex dancing with another woman. The unexpected and uninvited participation of Prime Minister Boris Johnson prompts speculation from the revelers (“Maybe he needed to bruk out–prove his good health”; “Maybe he came to present his neck to our guillotine”). Shout-outs from the DJ provide a kaleidoscopic view of the festivities, from the lovers kissing by the window and blocking the breeze to the woman who needs to “take it easy on the oud” because it’s smelling up the place and the slick-haired man who looks like he’s “dipped in butter.” Throughout, Femi gleefully evokes the sense of liberation found by the partygoers as they free themselves of the weight of reality. It’s a blast. Agent: Rachel Mann, CAA. (Jan.)