One look at Kokomo City and you’d think it’s film noir. The black and white poster
shows Dominique Silver, a transgender sex worker from New York City, lying on a bed with
dim light peering through the shutters as smoke rises nonchalantly from her cigarette,
billowing toward the film’s title in yellow neon lettering. It’s a striking aesthetic and director D. Smith uses it throughout the documentary, presenting her subjects — Dominique, Liyah,
Daniella, Koko — in inky grayscale.
Kokomo City’s noirish qualities run deeper than its stylish presentation, though. It is a
documentary about urban life in which sex and violence exist in dangerously close proximity. Liyah, an Atlanta sex worker, distils this reality with an outrageous anecdote in Kokomo’s opening, which involves a client, a gun, a fight, and a professional rekindling before cutting to a montage with ‘Street Life’ by Randy Crawford — an appropriate and rousing choice.
The next 70 minutes continue with much the same energy. Smith’s camera follows the sex
workers through their domains, often at odd angles in a manner that’s natural rather than
affected. Such quirks help to freshen the lengthy monologues along with deft re-enactments
and other creative imagery.
Kokomo is not a conventional talking head piece, but the trans women’s stories are still the
purpose here. Each of Smith’s subjects speak explicitly about their lives and trade. They’re
interested in salaries, bank accounts, sucking dick and tickling prostates. They also crave
physical safety, financial security and a future in something other than sex work, especially
Liyah, who’s lost numerous friends to violence and HIV/AIDS.
Perhaps the bulk of their commentary regards the hypocrisy of peers and punters. These
trans women meet the biggest hoods in the ghetto, we’re told, but that is no guarantee of
respect. Quite the contrary. If a down-low client feels threatened, assault or murder is quite
possible. Smith’s camera meets several Atlanta men to discuss their views on trans
attraction, which are broadly libertarian but not without a fair amount of dithering. It’s all part of Kokomo City’s cultural snapshot, which may lose its bawdy energy to occasional repetition and stridency, but remains a potent account of life on the edge.
