Discussion: The Heart is a Muscle

By Eilidh Akilade

We begin with Jard Lerebours’ LESPRI. A son – our grown narrator, although he is a toddler here – appears: summer spent in a PUMA hat and orange-rimmed sunglasses, held close in his dad’s hand. It is only one day of footage – a day out at the African Street Festival – stitched together by his present-tense vows. At the end, a son – our grown narrator, although he is still a toddler here – is given a camcorder and so it is clear: there is more than one recorded version of this day, of every day, of their relationship.

LESPRI ends, ‘I MISS YOU DAD,’ and so we are glad to begin Imran Hamdulay’s The Heart is a Muscle with a father’s hands on a shopping trolley. Tattooed and holding. In Cape Town, Ryan’s son goes missing during a barbecue, shared with friends. In finding him, Ryan (Keenan Arrison) is forced to recover his own hard truths. It is a story of men – of their fathers, their sons, their friends – and the history that binds them. ‘We can’t escape the sins of our fathers,’ Ryan is told.

The Heart is a Muscle (Imran Hamdulay, 2025)

After the films, three men sit down: musicians Sean Focus, Bemz and, our host, Matt Hickman. Introductions arrive halfway into the discussion, prompted by Tomiwa offstage; there is much too much to discuss – now, right now.

It’s a beautiful film, they agree. The characters, the narrative – it’s all so well done, so easy to attach themselves to. Masculinity sounds out, unignorable: not that they’d want to ignore it – its weight, its contours – but, no, it cannot be ignored in The Heart is a Muscle.

Bemz isn’t sure whether he’d use the term ‘toxic masculinity’ but yes, yes, there was a time he was drawn to a certain ‘macho man’ idea and yes, yes, it sounded out through his music, his relationships. Nowadays, not so much. ‘I look at my daughter and I’m soft as hell. [...] Through that [becoming a father], I had to grow up and unlearn a lot of toxic traits,’ says Bemz and Sean nods – yes, yes. In this, Bemz is not so unlike Ryan, he says. Later, Bemz notes that, back in the day, he may have met each situation much like Ryan. ‘Hot-tempered.’ 

Photo credit: Alannah Stirling (@alannah.jpeg)

A conversation off stage has laid the foundations for another conversation on stage. ‘Sorry guys, if you were sitting behind us, we were talking a lot,’ says Sean and he reaches an apologetic hand to the back of the room. Their chatter is worthwhile: Sean is learning a lot from Bemz, from his thoughts on masculinity and fatherhood. Ryan is in need of conversation, too. And, the film’s turmoil presents a moment for him to speak with his two friends. A trust like that carries him through; and it carries Bemz, too. ‘I pray everyone finds that, if they don’t already have it,’ he says.  

Like Ryan and his friends, it is back and forth, to and fro, when Sean and his friends talk on masculinity, as they so often do. ‘There is some sense of security [in masculinity] because that’s how you keep your head up,’ he says, turning his head to Bemz.  But how to step in and step out of this state? A perfect balance is needed, please, although it’s not all that easy to find. 

The three men take a question from the audience and the three men shake their heads (they talk too much, sorry, sorry aunty, sorry). Bemz and Sean laugh, recalling one particular scene of asking: they watched Laila (Melissa De Vries), warning her not to ask too much. ‘I’ve got a partner as well,’ says Bemz, ‘and we’ll have these times where I come home – let’s say something bad’s happened with work or music – and she’s like, ‘Talk to me,’ and I’m like, ‘Nah.’ She’s like, ‘Talk to me,’ and I’m like, ‘Nah.’’ 

Sean nods. ‘How do you open up to people if everyone comes to open up to you?’ he asks. To rely on others, when they rely so heavily on you, is not all that easy. ‘For me, it is hard to open up. Not because I don’t want to. But, there’s too much logic going on.’

Matt shares, too. He was brought up by ‘really strong women’; he was always taught to talk. And, now, he has a beautiful relationship with his partner. He listens and he is listened to. He is grateful for that.

They are three musicians. And so, when words stick in the throat, music offers itself up. ‘Using music to express how I feel – sometimes it’s very scary. Because everytime I’ve done it, it’s clicked. It’s worked,’ says Sean. ‘I like to show my vulnerability in music but not too much, because music does transcend.’ Sean and Bemz laugh. It’s all about that perfect balance, again. 

‘One more question?’ Matt asks. In the audience, a hand raises; Matt and Sean point towards it. ‘What do you do for joy?’ the hand asks. They take it in turns to respond. 

Photo credit: Alannah Stirling (@alannah.jpeg)

Matt’s partner has a daughter. Together, they sit and make up games. ‘I love that there’s no bounds to [her] creativity,’ he says. Then, he offers another act for joy: ‘I always go to the cinema by myself,’ and Sean raises his hand in agreement, nodding. ‘I feel like a kid again,’ Matt says. We cannot help but think of the kids of LESPRI and The Heart is a Muscle: their camcorders and plastic dinosaurs in hand. 

Bemz thinks of his kids, too. ‘Going on the first holiday with them [...] I’m just smiling even thinking about that,’ he says. But, there’s more: ‘I just play FIFA.’ Sean slaps him on the back, knowing and agreeing. The room shakes their heads. Mock tutting and teeth sucking, they protest. ‘Hear me out, hear me out, hear me out on this.’ When Bemz plays FIFA, he zones out. Sort through the day’s threads. Matt and Sean agree - they like their video games, too.

But, again, for Sean, there’s more. ‘Laughter and banter,’ Sean says. ‘I will pass jokes for nothing.’ The conversation (it is twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes) is accompanied by their laughs – full-bellied and charmed, inflating the stage. And so, it is a good note – an apt note – to end on. 

Matt thanks us all for being there; Sean and Bemz thank us for our time. We thank them too – and Lerebours and Hamdulay, as well.

The discussion took place on Friday 31 October 2025 after the screening of The Heart is a Muscle + Short at the inaugural Jali Film Weekender.