Visions du Réel 2020 - Queens
Visions du Réel“It’s our job to educate assholes” is a line that could be easily missed in Youssef Youssef’s Queens, and addresses only one of the issues playing out in its 29-minute running time. Despite its conflicts and asides, the film provides a window into a collective world, where everyone unapologetically expresses themselves — gay, trans, queer and every identity in between.
Beginning with pre-show preparations and banter between two drag queens, Amber La Garce and Moon (played by real-life performers, Hugo Marinoni and Trystan Matthey, respectively), the film branches into a character study within a small community that performs at GeneVegas, a Swiss drag club. Unlike Youssef’s previous work — most notably Pink Pink — Queens eschews commentary and evolves into a fly-on-the-wall depiction of the relationships within that community, which are often at odds, and are changing minute-by-minute.
To begin with, Amber and Moon experience a series of bonding moments and blow-outs while getting ready, and on public transit to the show. There is a humorous, crackling energy in these conversations, which is reminiscent of the friendship in Sean Baker’s Tangerine. — only more heated and tense. There is also an unrehearsed loose quality to the dialogue that seems improvised, but is in fact heavily scripted. One of Youssef’s earlier shorts, Bros Before Hoes, appears to be a test run of this material, as it features the same dialogue and performers.
The duo’s nighttime journey takes up half of Queens’ runtime before moving into the second act, which takes place at the club itself. At this point, the story widens its scope to include a variety of performers grappling with their identities, as well as audiences’ reactions. These discussions are also stunningly realistic and seem unscripted. They include overlapping observations about harassment, being misunderstood, and voice the need for new terms for performers who don’t fit the mould — “drag queer” is presented as a possibility. In the middle of the conversation, one of them weighs in by saying: “If you’re not happy, then get the fuck out.” It’s no surprise that no one moves; there is an unspoken understanding that their performances defy what anyone outside of their circle thinks or says. In other words: the show must go on.
Considering that the cast of Queens doesn’t feature trained film actors, everyone onscreen is natural and immediately believable. However, the film ultimately belongs to its leads. Marinoni’s work as Amber is particularly dynamic in crafting a character, who is fully aware that simply existing in drag is a subversive act, and isn’t afraid to own it in public. She also tows the fine line between the overblown confidence and crushing insecurities of being the youngest performer in her social circle, demanding respect from her peers and lashing out when she is denied it.
In contrast, Matthey’s portray of Moon is more grounded and relaxed, while the character has an edge of her own. The only point where danger comes into play is when she gets angry enough to goad a group of men who are harassing her in the street, daring them to throw a punch. The reality of this scene is unshakable and becomes frightening enough to sense this is intertwined with Matthey’s real-life experience. It also reveals that although Moon presents as the more subdued and feminine of the two, she is unafraid to fight or assert who she is in crisis.
In the end, it’s clear that everyone in Queens has to fight for who they are. The strongest points of the film are found in observing how these characters navigate their world while questioning or battling for their place in it. This is particularly apparent among the more seasoned performers at the club, though their screen time is brief. The film’s weakness is passing over these issues and focusing on conflicts between the characters at a time. As a result, there is rarely a calm moment in evidence of a deep, trusting relationship between them, just passing declarations of friendship before another argument breaks out.
Nevertheless, all animosity recedes into the background as the characters perform a spontaneous dance, celebrating difference. The scene is preceded by a long tracking shot following a character — which is a recurring image in the film, reminiscent of sequences in Gaspar Noé’s Irréversible and Climax. When questioned about casting transsexual actors in the latter, Noe replied that it was their “joy of living,” which is a radical act itself. “When you cannot fight socially, you fight by dancing,” he concluded.
Queens provides glimpses of these acts of defiance and more, and despite of all the infighting, their dance somehow puts the film back together. Emotions are fleeting and ultimately camaraderie wins out, leaving everything else behind for a few moments of solidarity, togetherness and transcendence.