“We’re all born naked and the rest is drag”, RuPaul has been pointing out for decades. British-Iraqi-Egyptian filmmaker Amrou Al-Kadhi’s assured feature directorial and screenwriting debut Layla, which just premiered in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition at Sundance, could be seen as an engaging narrative thesis on that playful, but astute observation.
As the film opens, we are taken backstage at a London queer club, Feathers, where we meet stunning Arab drag queen Layla (a terrific Bilal Hasna) as she is preparing to take to the stage. Out of drag, Layla goes by the same name to their chosen family and identifies as nonbinary, but on their infrequent visits home they continue to be called Latif by their Palestinian parents who know nothing about their child’s life in London. This contrast is neatly summed up by cinematographer Craig Dean Devine in two simple, but striking images that mirror each other. The first, shot from below, comes as Layla performs in full, glorious drag at a dreary corporate pride event (for which she’s outrageously paid in coupons, not cash), then in a later scene, the same angled shot of Layla widens to reveal that they are dressed in a traditional thobe at a mosque with their family.
It is at that soulless corporate event, that is more about selling unappetizing-looking ready-meals than celebrating or standing up for the LGBTQIA+ community in June or any other month, where Layla instantly falls hard for a handsome stranger, Max (Louis Greatorex), a cis white, clean-cut marketeer. Max clearly hasn’t dated, or even encountered anyone quite like Layla before, describing being with them as “an adventure”; while Layla excitedly tells their friends that they never usually “get guys like that”.
Along with the unbridled and unapologetic queer joy that is woven in glitter thread throughout much of Al-Kadhi’s film, is some intoxicating romance, including a gorgeous scene on the rooftop of Feathers where Layla and Max look across the city at night and share their first kiss. There are also some thoughtfully choreographed, steamy sex scenes (with great work by intimacy coordinator Eden Barrell-Kane) that look and feel remarkably intimate and authentic, and tenderly convey that these humans are deeply connecting emotionally through the passionate sex that they are having. These scenes are fun and exploratory too, including Layla offering to top Max, only to take out their 9-inch…stilettos, lubing up one of the heels. Now, that’s a queer sex scene that I’ve never seen on screen before. Similarly, the sequence of Layla visiting a sauna, attempting to boost their low self-esteem with anonymous sex, feels and looks real and unfiltered.
Clearly, Al-Kadhi created an environment on set where their cast could feel uninhibited and relaxed. Hasna is so natural in front of the camera, such as in the scene where Layla lays around bored and horny after a night on stage, swiping through Grindr. Generally at ease around their queer housemates, Layla is initially most free when they are by themself in their room in their underwear. In these moments, Hansa has an air of Bobby Kendall in James Bidgood’s Pink Narcissus about their physicality and the way that they are photographed by Devine in their vibrant surroundings, created by the production, set, and art teams headed by Soraya Gilanni Viljoen, Oliver Edinburgh, Xenia Flint.
Hasna’s nuanced and captivating performance is a masterclass in maintaining the core of a character while creating subtle shifts in how they present themselves to the outside world depending on where they are and who they are with. These shifts lead them, not only to modify how they dress and speak, but also to lie, such as Layla telling Max that their family has cut them off, when in fact their sister Fatima (Sarah Agha) is continually trying to reach out to them.
Max and Layla come from different backgrounds, and exist in different worlds in London. His apartment looks like a drab, uninhabited show home, devoid of personality, while Layla’s rather chaotic shared space is full of character and warmth. Max doesn’t always know the right thing to say or express himself well, but he is somewhat willing and open to understanding who Layla truly is. When it comes to pronouns for instance, he wants to learn but is is confused as Layla explains that their using they/them helps them to “feel right” and allows them the liberation of living “in the between…the place with all the potential.” Endlessly endearing, Layla is not without their flaws, and can be insensitive and self-absorbed at times.
Just as Layla dims the colour and flamboyance of their wardrobe, taking things greyscale with a button-up shirt and t-shirt, as they attempt to make things work with Max, so in turn does he try to fit into Layla’s alternative queer scene by introducing himself as a performance artist rather than as a city office worker. In fact, Max does have a considerable talent for illustration, which it seems he has stifled and sidelined in order to please his father. The passion with which he talks to Layla about “octopi” (or should that be “octopuses” as Layla insists), which he is fascinated by and loves drawing, feels like something that he has not been able to share with many other people in his life.
Max and Layla’s disparate worlds dramatically collide on Pride day as Max arrives at Feathers’ “Gay Shame” night with a dash of rainbow makeup on his cheek and a rainbow-emblazoned polo shirt. Having drunk a little too much, he continually interrupts Layla’s drag performance with his encouraging but distracting whoops and hollers, while the rest of the club silently observes her work on stage. Representing a more mainstream gay life that they may have felt excluded from or othered by, not everyone at Feathers is welcoming of Max, which contributes to his discomfort.
Al-Kadhi is a drag artist themself, with their show Glamrou touring the world, and their insider knowledge really shows here, as we appreciate just how much skill and effort goes into creating Layla’s drag looks. In real life they are the result of some richly detailed and fabulous work by costume designer Cobbie Yates, along with impressive hair and makeup design by Adele Firth. The film also give us a visceral sense of what it is like to be up there on stage performing, as the killer lip-synch tracks that eschew the obvious and evoke London’s alternative queer scene, play out. There is also a strong sense of the defiance and courage it takes to sit on a London night bus in full drag after a gig, as Layla and their freinds bring a colourful burst of queer energy to the city.
In the end credits, there is a “very special thank you to London’s queer community”, and Layla is a pulsating hymn to the defiance of queer joy, and our strength when we come together in all of our beautiful intersectionality. It is also tribute to the queer spaces that enable us to do so and an acknowledgment of the void that they leave when they are shuttered, all too often because of endless rent increases or gentrifying property developers. The blissfully kinetic scenes in the community-run Feathers, which Layla describes as being like a queer “orphanage”, capture the uninhibited self-expression that can happen in a space where we feel safe to let down our defenses and just be.
Along with the fun and romance of Layla, the film also has something to say as it explores what it takes to be one’s true self, without feeling the need to adapt and morph to be accepted. In Hasna’s skillful hands, Layla’s drag performances draw us in and are well-calibrated and delineated in each scene, giving us the sense that they are holding something back. Ultimately, the film is about Layla embracing their authentic self, on stage and off. As Layla begins to bring the fullness of who they are, with all of the intersections of their identity to their drag, they start to create art that is incredibly meaningful and powerful. As Ru would say, “Drag doesn’t change who you are, it actually reveals who you are”.
By James Kleinmann
Layla world premiered in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition on the opening day of the 40th Sundance Film Festival and screens again in person on January 19th, 20th, 25th, and 26th and will also be available on demand online from January 25th – 28th, 2024 atFestival.Sundance.org. Discover moreLGBTQ+ highlightsat the 2024 Sundance Film Festival.
Layla is the official opening night selection of BFI Flare: London LGBTQIA+ Film Festival on March 13th, 2024, which will mark the film’s European premiere.
