PARK CITY – Trend alert: drag queen movies might just be the not new thing in the contemporary indie film world. And as a fan of both the visual arts of cinema and drag performance, we certainly aren’t complaining. 2023 saw at least three drag queen-centric movies debut at the Berlin and Toronto Film Festivals. That’s substantial. 2024 can now add a fourth to that list following the world premiere of Amrou Al-Kadhi ‘s feature directorial debut, “Layla” at the 40th Sundance Film Festival.
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Once it gets going, the main storyline of “Layla” is pretty standard fare. Layla, portrayed by a fantastic Bilal Hasna, is a twentysomething non-binary queen living with their queer friends in a run-down London flat. When they get a corporate gig to perform at a Pride event for a food service company they are beyond excited over the prospect of getting paid 900 pounds (not too shabby). With their very queer friends in tow for support, they soon discover the gig is a total bust. The reception looks like a business conference and the buttoned-up attendees could care less about the queen performing on a stage in the middle of the party. That is, except for Max, a charming Louis Greatorex, who we later find out works for a marketing company that set up Layla’s hire.
Frustrated by the perceived disdain for their friends and discovering they are getting paid in food coupons and not cash, Layla makes something of a scene. It involves premade food and, unfortunately, is the first of several narrative choices, that don’t exactly compute (you assume because their friends are recording it the moment will go viral or something but, alas, no). Layla runs into Max before leaving, and despite their public outburst, well, sparks fly.
Layla grabs Max and brings him to a queer, underground (we think?) party their friends are putting on far from the business district he lives in. Max’s black sweater isn’t exactly sexy so Layla ends up cutting off the sleeves to make him look more appropriate for their scene. They soon escape to the roof where they end up spending an intimate night together on a crapy couch (also, it looks quite chilly up there). When Layla wakes up, Max is gone. Their friends think he is just a trick, not someone who would ever date anyone as outwardly femme as Layla and not into their “world,” but this queen isn’t giving up.
The pair soon meet back up and a whirlwind romance occurs. Sure, Max, who is clearly attracted to the femme aspect of Layla’s life, gets scared off for a few weeks (I mean, typical), but eventually, they appear to be a thing. But it’s complicated and messy because, of course, it is. But we’ll get back to that in a minute because, surprise, Layla has a secret.
Unbeknownst to their roommates and Max, Layla is not as estranged from their Muslim family as they say they are. Instead, they are keeping their queer identity and drag profession a secret from both their parents and sister who live in another city in the U.K. When they return home for their sister’s wedding, they trade in what some might see as more outlandish garb for a traditional Islamic throbe (or something similar). And, like adults who can barely stand having dinner with their parents over the holidays, they bolt as soon as they can. Unfortunately, Al-Kadhi does not set up this scenario with much conflict to give it enough gravitas. And it doesn’t help that a similar storyline was more effectively told in Sally El Hosaini and James Krishna Floyd’s far superior “Unicorns” (which also has a somewhat similar romance narrative) last year. But that’s not really what “Layla” wants to focus on anyway.
The heart of “Layla” is a clash between our protagonist’s queer identity and what is portrayed as Max’s more “traditional” cis-white gay male persona. Layla feels pressured to dress and act more conservatively in Max’s world (the equivalent of asking your partner to wear Banana Republic instead of femme-presenting clothes) while Layla’s loyal crew are not as welcoming as you’d hope to their friend’s new amour. It should be noted that in the U.S., Layla’s friends would probably be defined as “radically queer.” For instance, they see no value in Pride celebrations and instead view it as just an excuse for empty corporate sponsorships (You can argue that the trend peaked in 2021 right after the stay-at-home opened up and any support would be more than welcome now, but we digress). Frankly, it’s a super niche dramatic conflict that will leave many LGBTQ+ viewers scratching their heads (even ones who believe they are super liberal and progressive). And, if anything, it’s amazing that a movie tackling this storyline got made in the first place. That’s something, right? The problem is that in the context of the screenplay, it feels like a hollow conflict between two characters that seem pretty right for each other.
Luckily, Al-Kadhi, who performs on stage in the drag persona Glamrou, has two secret weapons in Hasna and Greatorex who have genuine chemistry together. You believe this is a couple that are falling for each other despite dissimilar backgrounds. And Hasna’s natural charisma often carries the film when it needs it the most. You just wish it all felt more consequential. That being said, the costumes are great, the drag makeup ain’t bad, the soundtrack is fantastic and Layla lip-syncing to “Release Me” by Agnes? Well, yes. [C+]
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