Drag and cinema have long been intertwined in various forms — performance, dress, commentary. So it’s always a pleasure to have a film that revolves around drag performers; not having them at the periphery of the narrative as dressing, but centering their stories and granting visibility to their interiority. British-Iraqi director Amrou Al-Kadhi’s Layla tells a story of the titular drag queen, who, like Al-Kadhi, is a non-binary drag performer of Arab descent (Layla is British Palestinian). Brought to life through a debut turn from Bilal Hasna, Layla undergoes a journey of first love and self-discovery: what ensues is a narrative of tumultuous ups and downs, but always with a gentle touch to carry us through them.
Layla is introduced living in London with their community of queer friends, performing drag and attending parties together. The energy of these sequences overflows because of the delightful rapport between Layla and their friends. Whether chilling at their apartment or dancing at parties, Al-Kadhi and their crew grant such a colourful palette to Layla’s life, in particular Cobbie Yates’ distinctive costume designs evoking such rich personality from each of Layla’s outfits. It’s a joy to hang around with this chaotic but loving found-family unit, and a bit of a shame that it has to take a relative backseat to the rest of the plot developments, which largely revolve around Layla’s romance with a charming marketing executive Max (Louis Greatorex), who Layla meets after a drag performance at a corporate event gone (hilariously) wrong.
Hasna and Greatorex have a lovely, easy chemistry that makes the swiftness with which Layla and Max bond with one another wholly convincing. The infectious joy of their burgeoning relationship is terrific, driven through sweetly crafted conversations and beautifully filmed scenes of intimacy. The film’s easygoing touch feels less assured when it shifts to dealing with the inevitable rifts in their relationship. On one hand, the tensions between the very different lives that Layla and Max lead is rather well done, with the nervous uncertainty that frissons between the two despite their obvious affection for one another being very effectively articulated as an undercurrent. Unfortunately, when the tensions explode into arguments, they feel somewhat repetitive at points as written, and the film struggles somewhat in keeping them engaging. Where the courtship and more nuanced differences between the two have a real vibrant authenticity, the more overt conflicts feel more artificial and manufactured, though the honesty of the performances of the two actors still comes through.
The film also delves into how Layla and Max both struggle to open up about their queer identities to their families in different ways. There are the seeds for some very interesting plot developments here, notably in a sequence where Layla goes home for a family gathering and we watch the way in which they carefully navigate the environment as ‘Latif’, and a dinner party where Max cautiously, awkwardly introduces Layla to his accepting but still quite traditional father and sister. These sequences are very strong in a microcosm, but the film doesn’t quite manage to dedicate enough time to build off them. In particular, the relationship between Layla and their sister Fatima (Sarah Agha) feels a little underserved by the screenplay, despite the best efforts of the actors to make it an emotionally satisfying strand.
Reservations aside, what Al-Kadhi does with Layla is, for the most part, wonderful. Even if certain plot elements feel shortchanged, the general spirit of the film is so charming and endearing through its wonderful characters and joyous interactions. The drag performance sequences, in addition to being stylistically dynamic, have a real power in regards to how they let Layla live out their truth, captured so beautifully by Craig Dean Devine’s camera. The compassion the film has for its characters is beautiful. And though it takes a sometimes rocky road to reach there, there’s a real maturity to its eventual summations on embracing queer identity as we watch Layla and Max undergo their respective journeys. Layla doesn’t offer easy answers, but instead lends a tender hand and comforting shoulder to help people on their journey.
The 28th edition of the Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival runs in-person and online November 13-24. For tickets, scheduling, and other details about this year’s programming, visit the festival’s website.
