Name me Lawand

Name Me Lawand review (dir.Edward Lovelace)

For most of my life, deaf and hard-of-hearing people have been on the periphery of my daily life. A schoolfriends sibling, or a customer with a giant whiteboard and a felt marker in my computer game shop. I did not meet any in academia, and being the 90s, there was no concern to tailor for anything other than ‘the norm’. I was in my 20s when I first met Steve Day, at the time, the only deaf comedian I had heard of, and to be fair; he could say the same. I was fascinated by the fact that he could drive and was very tolerant looking back. We mostly talked about families off of the gigs, and I never considered im talking to a grown man and what was not there for him, both technologically and socially, compared to now.

But no one is a single issue; Steve had the work of stand-up and all of the families and work as we all do, IN face I think the only thing I ever saw put his back up was leaning down all the time to know what people said because he is pretty lean.

. Law and is not ‘just deaf. Hee is a Kurdish refugee from a culture where he was bullied and abused socially by his peers and left to be nothing within Iraq. At the film’s start, his family fled, living in Derby as refugees. His mum and dad don’t speak English throughout the film, and the first connection we have to Lawand is his older brother, who has learnt BSL to a degree to draw out his brother. While his family have fled to avoid the violence and persecution in Iraw, for Lawand, there is not so much the sense of abandonment but a real discovery of himself, now having a community and medium to share with them.

Attending the royal school for deaf students in Darby, Lawand, on and off camera over time, joyous goes from strength to strength. Before he came, he thought his name was BAD…as the film goes on, we discover his sign name is WHY? Because he is constantly curious, such as his best friend MATHS and why he is called MATHS. It’s a stylised best of the school world; the teachers are depicted in almost dead poets’ society terms, with elements of 400 blows and bicycle thieves leaning in for the youngsters and their very amiable japes. But one scene in particular where Lawand is discovering the fel of music via a drum kit and a balloon would be hard not to find joy in his face.

While the journey from Iraq is told in chilling yet brief documentary clips, there is a sense of a strong imposed narrative to continue a tone. A few moments could have been edited in terms of imagery. There are only so many times we need to see the waves to recognise an allegory for hearing. But for the most part, it is sentimental but never breaks into full cloying. We understand in the later stages why the parents have difficulties in understanding Lawands needs, and their attempts to reconcile their original views to ones where they can progress with their son is a warming moment of a parent getting over their views to preserve their family.

As their status n the UK and the threat of deportation waxes and wanes, filtering the whole film, it sets a genuine sense of what is happening and what can be changed in the UK. one of the critical threads is the push for recognition of BSL as the language with the BSL bill that was only passed last march 2022. This is more than some signers being sent to events or training being increased. Through Lawands eyes, it’s precisely how crucial it is to the liberty of so many people invisible to me, yet I’m living with all my life.

At a relative brisque pace and largely upbeat with judicious rather cheeky humour at pints, while not avoiding the tension of how fragile Lawands life here is and the threat of the life of being rendered silent in Iraw. I felt warm, informed and thoroughly entertained and engaged throughout.

So big hand to mouth and then drop down thank you to the makers and a quick wave of my hands in the air for Lawands to start school play turn. It’s healthy and worth the ticket.