Call Me Micky: A Tender Portrait of Becoming Yourself

There is something quietly profound about Call Me Micky. Beneath its humor, its larger-than-life personality and its wonderfully unfiltered moments is a story about time — the years we are given, the years we lose, and the years we finally decide belong to us.

The 22-minute documentary short follows Micky Angelo Petrillo, a New Jersey native who transitioned at 59 and is now living openly as the man he always knew himself to be. Directed by Andrew Rasmussen and executive produced by POSE star Dominique Jackson, Call Me Micky avoids turning Micky into a symbol or reducing his life to a single issue. Instead, it allows him simply to be human.

And that humanity is where the film finds its heart.

Micky is funny, outspoken, vulnerable, sometimes outrageous and deeply emotional. His humor becomes more than comic relief; it feels like a survival instinct. There is laughter in this film, but behind that laughter is the knowledge that Micky waited nearly six decades to experience something many people take for granted — the freedom to recognize themselves when they look in the mirror.

What makes Call Me Micky particularly moving is that it does not treat transition as the ending of Micky’s journey. It is interested in what happens afterward: friendship, connection, being seen differently by the world, taking chances and discovering how much living can still be done. 

There are moments when the documentary feels less like a film about transitioning and more like a film about the universal fear of running out of time. Micky’s story quietly asks all of us a difficult question: How much of our lives do we spend waiting for permission to become ourselves?

Dominique Jackson brings an especially meaningful presence to the film. Her conversation with Micky about identity and visibility adds another emotional dimension without ever taking the story away from him. This remains unmistakably Micky’s journey. 

Director Andrew Rasmussen wisely does not polish away Micky’s rough edges. That would defeat the purpose. Micky is compelling precisely because he is imperfect, spontaneous and completely himself. The camera seems less interested in explaining him than in allowing us to know him.

By the time Call Me Micky ends, the title itself seems to carry greater meaning. “Call me Micky” is not merely an introduction. It is a declaration of existence.

See me.

Know me.

Call me by my name.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing about Micky Angelo Petrillo’s story is that it reminds us that beginning again does not belong exclusively to the young. At 59, Micky did not arrive at the end of his story.

For more information https://www.callmemickyfilm.com