Debut: ‘Veneers’ Tackles Identity with Skill and Nuance

Matt Scott Jones’ Veneers is a sixteen minute masterpiece exploring the performativity of identity and the creation of self. Protagonist Trevor is a twentysomething Black man straddling a multiplicity of identities in the pursuit of being perceived as perfect, slowly floundering in artifice as he loses himself and realizes that his identity has been crafted only by external forces.

A pale, pink, proud peacock preened its pretty plumage. 

A pale, pink, proud peacock preened its pretty plumage.

The film begins with Trevor’s cheerful recitation of this tongue-twister. Standing stiffly upright with a tight smile, he chants it as a sort of vocal warm-up for the day to come, a day throughout which he interacts with the various groups of people in his life. First, Trevor’s parents visit his home, which is decorated with vintage mahogany furniture and striped mustard walls. Dressed in a shirt matching his wallpaper, Trevor guides his parents through his new home, offering them cookies and sparkling water in delicate champagne flutes. 

“Trevie,” his mother exclaims. “This looks like an HGTV show!” 

He tidies the house frenetically as his parents admire a photograph of Trevor and Victoria, a woman they assume to be his partner. When his father moves to uncover the only mirror in the house, Trevor grabs his arm, and the music stops. 

The mirror lingers in the corner, half-covered by a sheet. This is the first sign to viewers that something is amiss.

“My son’s grown up into a nice man,” his mother says as she closes the door behind her.

Suddenly, a team of people covered face-to-feet in black cloth emerge, removing the previous decor and scattering crumbs around the house. They place Trevor in front of a mirror, and reflected back at him is one of the faceless figures. The scene changes, with new decor and a new shirt matching the now-blue walls. Trevor’s messier house becomes the scene for a watch party with his friends, and his voice and inflection shift to match theirs. 

“What would you do, T?” asks his friend, referring to his recommendation for a gift for his wife. The faceless figures hold up cue cards. “Get her something she suggests to her girlfriends,” Trevor reads from the cards. 

His friends leave, and the faceless figures again change the scene, this time hurriedly as Victoria’s arrival was not anticipated. Trevor’s performance begins to slip as she enters his home before the scene and his outfit have been staged. Victoria asks Trevor to father a child for her and her girlfriend, and with no cue cards, he agrees.

“You’re making this happen for us,” she says. 

Trevor leaves his house, and runs into his parents, and then his friends, and then Victoria. He catches his real reflection in a store window. Viewers watch as his worlds collide and his veneer disintegrates – it all begins to fall apart.

“I’m not nice!” he exclaims. “I’m not anything!” 

The film ends with a new morning, Trevor’s broken recitation of “pale, pink, proud peacock,” and the house being reset for the next day to come. 

Veneers makes the exhaustion of performing Trevor’s life evident with small details, like the changes in his nickname and clothing, and viewers can see the facade eroding long before Trevor’s mask begins to slip. The film pays remarkable attention to detail, with each watch and rewatch revealing something new about Trevor’s plight. It is visually stunning, thorough, and honest, and though much of Trevor’s code-switching and performativity is specific to his experience as a Black man, the universal appeal of the film’s message will resonate with any viewer. 

Director Matt Scott Jones writes, 

“Veneers asks: who are we when we’re alone[,] and how does that compare to who we are around other people? To me, existing in front of any other person involves some level of performance, or presentation, of who we want other people to see. . . Trevor takes that idea to extreme lengths that we recognize as surreal, but also grounded in behaviors we all do everyday. I hope viewers can project their own motivations onto Trevor[.]"

Indeed they can. Jones’ short is a visually stunning, thematically engaging, and deeply meaningful piece that deftly explores a relatable theme.