Lost Bois: Inside a gang of transmasc friends living in NYC

Devyn Galindo’s Lost Bois is a hedonistic and gritty exploration of Samp, Gian, and Tyler, three trans bois living in New York City trying to find their place in the world. The experimental short melds narrative, memoir, and creative nonfiction in an intimate exploration of transmasc brotherhood as the bois navigate desire, and acceptance, sharing stories about Grindr hookups, Cure lyrics, their first hormone shot, and what loneliness and isolation can teach you if you listen. Filmed in 24 hours on a handheld camera in Samp’s Brooklyn home and neighbourhood haunts, the short reflects the rebelliousness of queer youth paying homage to 80s cult classics like Stand By Me, The Outsiders and Lost Boys.

As much an affirmation as a creative restart, Lost Bois brings Galindo, the two-spirit, transmasc, Mēxihkah transdisciplinary artist, full circle as they return to their community for inspiration. The film, which is the director’s debut, builds a visual world where queer and trans people can exist on their terms – an urgent antidote to the constant back and forth between the cultural commodification and industry apathy the community has faced. Galindo masters an intricate balance of energy and tenderness heightened by a collision of sound and visuals that break free from the traditional form and, instead, offer the viewer a unique visceral experience of the bois escapades. 

Ahead of the film’s world premiere at Tribeca Film Festival, we spoke to Galindo about letting go of control, reshaping visual culture and why they are no longer interested in being palatable.

Watching Lost Bois, I was swept away by the desire of your three protagonists, Samp, Gian and Tyler (Moose). For many of us in the LGBTQ+ community, we are used to compartmentalising ourselves to some degree for the comfort of others or our safety. Can you tell me about how desire galvanises the bois?

Devyn Galindo: The bois are in such a beautiful, sweet spot of their life. Kinship, for queer or trans people, can save your life. They are also punk as fuck and don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about them. They wear their hearts on their sleeves and are very lusty, playful and vulnerable. To witness their connection was an honour and inspired possibility for me. As queer people, we create these little bubbles, and that’s where we’re able to thrive and grow. The voices that try to create fear inside of us dissolve when we exist together. And that’s what I was trying to capture with Lost Bois.

The filmmaking process was very significant for you personally as your identity was blossoming. How did making the film make your own identity more legible?

Devyn Galindo: Making the film was a deep one for me. It allowed me that space to grow, expand and explore myself. When I started the film, I didn’t identify as transmasc, and by the time I finished it a year later, it allowed me to come into that identity. It’s hard to see who you want to become unless you can see it in art or reflected in culture. These bois were my mirror, and I could also create myself in creating this film.

I’m happy to hear how filmmaking unlocked that for you. I think as queer makers, a lot of the work we make is for our teenage selves. We subconsciously fill in the cultural gaps we were missing.

Devyn Galindo: Totally. The place I create from is always to hold space for my younger self. I think it’s something that other people can instantly relate to, regardless of where they come from or whether they’re trans or queer or anything. Everything I create is to save myself, at the end of the day, but if it reaches someone who can see themselves in it, what a gift!

The film’s title, Lost Bois, is a homage to the original Lost Boys. Why?

Devyn Galindo: I’ve always been fascinated by films featuring gangs of boys, like The Outsiders, Stand by Me or the original Lost Boys, which was super queer-coded. I wanted to create a modern take on those young, rebellious gangs of adolescent boys, but with T-bois.

At the end of the film, Tyler reflects on what loneliness can teach you if you listen closely. Was it a conscious decision to explore this theme?

Devyn Galindo: This project was not super-produced or had a built-out shot list; I wanted to play and listen to the fullness of the bois experience. Loneliness kept coming up during filming, and I wanted to honour that. We are all feeling the shifts in our mental health after being isolated from our community for so long during the pandemic. I felt Tyler naming it was powerful, and it can be beautiful to explore those emotions instead of just being a fearful thing, you know? I wouldn’t have been able to make Lost Bois if I hadn’t sat in my void of loneliness for so long.

You have spent the last decade building a career in photography. Why move into film now?

Devyn Galindo: I think what I’m missing right now in photography is the audience. We are inundated with images, and the ways we share photography online are very censored. I’m interested in creating more worlds for my art to live in other than exhibition spaces. Film is a natural evolution and a beautiful brain puzzle for me. There are so many more creative layers to play with, and I love that I get to think about the composition of every single frame, movement, and sound. I want to challenge myself, and filmmaking is my next mountain to climb.

“Remember that your story is important, so be brave enough to tell it” – Devyn Galindo

I can see how your visual style in film is also reshaping your photography. That’s exciting.

Devyn Galindo: I’m in a beautiful place right now with my art. Lockdown gave me a break to think about: if there is no brief, team, or budget, what do I really want to make? I feel like this film is in conversation with Greg Araki and his very punk, raw, DIY, in-your-face films like Doom Generation and Totally Fucked Up. It feels so liberating to recreate myself. My work is unapologetic right now, and I hope it stays that way. I’m no longer interested in being palatable. I’m not happy to be sitting at ‘the’ table. I’m ready to flip it.

Historically, collage has always been an artistic strategy for freedom and imagining alternative futures. Tell me about your decision to explore multiple frames in the film?

Devyn Galindo: I never wanted this film to feel slick or formulaic. We’re in an era of reshaping how we receive visual culture. We are breaking out of the frame and pushing the boundaries.

You are currently looking for funding to turn the film into a feature. What can we expect?

Devyn Galindo: Samp, Gian, and Tyler are open to it, and these stories need to be told. It might be completely different from the short, and I’m OK with that. My gut is telling me to continue to let go of control and see what happens. I think it’s just an important time for us to tell trans stories. We’ll save lives. Right now, it feels like there’s no other more important project for me. I’m also starting a collective of transmasc filmmakers to create together called Lost Bois Film Collective. 

What advice would you give aspiring directors trying to make films?

Devyn Galindo: Don’t ask for permission. Fuck all the rules. Bend them, queer them, break them. And remember that your story is important, so be brave enough to tell it!

Visit the gallery above for a closer look at stills from the flm. Visit lostbois.com for updates on future screenings.