There’s no single definition for love; the concept represents something different for everyone. After a difficult break-up, uncertain what love meant to her, director Tajana Tokyo began making “Salone Love,” a collage-infused short film exploring perspectives on relationships via interviews with her friends and family in Sierra Leone. She tells Nicolas-Tyrell Scott about her playful, instinctive approach to making the film, and how each conversation led her to a deeper understanding of what love represents for her.
It was in the wake of a break-up in 2019 that Tajana Tokyo first began to examine love, her own sexuality and the institution of marriage. “I didn’t have any firm ideas, but I thought, ‘Everything seems to suck,’” she says. Tokyo started to question her beliefs on conventional relationships, and the structures of monogamy. “I was reading Esther Perel’s ‘Mating In Captivity’ at the time, and I began to wonder if maybe love isn’t this emotionally-charged thing, seeing that historically, the emotions weren’t the most important thing,” she adds.
As Tokyo dealt with her break-up, her cousin Mindu was preparing to get married. “I thought that maybe [my friends and family] could shed some light on what the hell love is,” she says, and using both an iPhone and a Super 8 film camera, she began to document the thoughts of those around her on the subject. Tokyo’s “Salone Love” (“Salone is a local term for Sierra Leone—‘Salone Love’ as a title felt only natural,” she says) was crafted across January that year in her ancestral home of Freetown. Inspired by Quentin Jones’ immersive form of collaging, Tokyo shows perspectives on love amid cutouts of images and hand-drawn patterns. “I drew hearts with crayons for the animations,” she says. “I was honestly having fun leaning into my childlike instincts and creating this universe. I would clean the flat, then go to draw something. It was a very slow but enjoyable process.”
Across five minutes, “Salone Love” interviews members of Tokyo’s immediate family—including her cousin, family friends and aunt—on marriage, gender and perceptions on acts such as adultery. “A man has to prove himself all the time. A woman, whether she wants to have sex or not, you can pretend,” Tokyo’s cousin Mindu says in the opening scenes. “I do think men are fragile from my [heteronormative] experiences,” Tokyo says on reflection. “I really understand that now, going through the shooting and editing of this film. They sometimes need that validation.”
In the film, black-and-white photos of her cousin-in-law sit atop moving imagery of flowers; the aesthetic is imbued with a sense of playfulness: “The process was super child-like, and initially I felt embarrassed about putting it out,” Tokyo says. But then she met Tabs Breese, who offered to produce the film through her production imprint, Miriam, which she co-founded with India Wadsworth. “It really was initially a passion project. The reception by Tabs and wider audiences has been really affirming.” To date, the film has received recognition from Sundance and Florida Film Festival, among others, a testament to its broad appeal and alluring depth.
Perhaps one of the reasons for the film’s broad appeal is the way “Salone Love” lays bare the striking contrast between how men and women think about relationships. For Tokyo’s male friends and family members, a relationship is about “good home training” and seriousness. According to Tokyo, it’s common for men to cheat in Sierra Leone; the men say they do this to show women that they “have options.” “It’s seen as something women tolerate,” Tokyo says. Women will tolerate adultery begrudgingly, she adds, whereas in the west, partners are more likely to leave their spouse. “Men are like little boys,” Tokyo’s aunt says in the film, almost rationalizing their behavior.
“For the longest time, I wasn’t going to include this voice note,” Tokyo says. “But I wanted to include it because it was part of my emotional journey, and links to my experiences of being cheated on. It’s funny because I came out here to seek answers, but the conclusions these men reached were ironic, because I don’t agree with their perspective, and that was reinforced.”
Tokyo made this film to find answers on what love is; instead she found herself being shown exactly what love isn’t—for her at least. The film ends with musings from her aunt: “Don’t ever marry a man you like too much,” she says, as clusters of still imagery of men doing manual labor or posing superficially bounce atop pink and black backdrops; cut-outs of chickens follow close behind as a comedic device. “If you like the man too much, don’t marry him.” For Tokyo, this statement suggests that marriage is often viewed as more of a transaction than a romantic pursuit, a perspective she vehemently rejects.
Ultimately, Tokyo’s experience shooting “Salone Love” made her realize that she’s more interested in expanding the meaning of love, and that love means more to her than it may to others. “Now being in the relationship I’m in, realizing my sexuality, I know I don’t want that form of relationship,” she says. “I want the emotions, the change, the balance—love is ever-evolving, not static.”