Note: This is a spoiler-free review
It is not easy to pull off a film with a 100-minute run-time that can make the audience laugh, cry, and snap their fingers at the screen throughout. But then again, Layla is not just a film—it is living, breathing proof of the magic that happens when queer people get to tell their own stories. In Layla, Amrou Al-Kadhi has taken the beating heart of London’s Arab queer drag scene and celebrated those beats by putting them at the foreground of a fierce number that is best performed in seven-inch heels and a full face of glitter.
The fact that drag queens of colour exist and are cunty and phenomenal is obviously not news to queer folx of colour. What makes Layla so refreshing and brilliant is its refusal to cater to the white cishet male gaze. At no point is a powerpoint presentation pulled out to explain the difference between gender and sexual orientation (because the well-meaning right wing voter just wants to learn!), and no one gives a point-by-point analysis of the difference between a given name and a chosen name (and why you should use the latter), and none of the queer characters are forced to come across as likeable through the process of giving a makeover to a white girl (who just needs to learn how to be more confident in herself, don’t be rude.) While I am not completely against films that include the former two tropes, since I understand the role that media can play in educating the masses, it does get tiring as a queer person to have every LGBTQ+ film you watch be speaking to straight people instead. In fact, forget speaking to them, Layla does not even give a lot of screen time to cishet people, which should not feel so revolutionary but in today’s socio-political landscape absolutely does.
Bilal Hasna plays the titular 20-something Layla, an British-Palestinian drag queen who is so used to code-switching that it has stopped ringing alarm bells in their head when they see themself having to cut the corners of their identity to make other people comfortable. First things first: Bilal is a star. This has to be a career-making performance because he inhabits the character so unassumingly and casually that it is genuinely not believable that he wasn’t just going about his life, unaware that there was a camera following him. His portrayal of Layla is soft and fierce at the same time, making you want to simultaneously give the character a tight, warm hug and bow down to their talent. Whenever Bilal put on drag and got on stage, I found myself transfixed with the beauty of the performance. So when I tell you that I was absolutely SHOOK on learning that he had never done drag before, I am not exaggerating. Not even a little bit.
When I spoke to producer Savannah James-Bayly about how much this surprised me she shared, “One of my favourite moments of the film’s production was Bilal’s final audition, in which we had a brilliant make up artist, Byron London (who does Bimini’s make up amongst others), come and put Bilal into a drag look. I will never forget the moment of Bilal going over to the mirror to see himself in drag for the first time. It was like he suddenly had this new perspective on himself. He kept saying “I look so beautiful” and you could see his whole energy and physicality shift as he channeled this previously untapped power source within him.”
The lived-experience then, is brought in by Writer-Director Amrou Al-Kadhi, whose British-Iraqi heritage and background in drag performance shines through the world-building and sensitivity with which the material is handled. The way Amrou shoots is visceral and real; cinematic shots blending emotionally heavy moments. The only time when this did not work for me was when the shot of Layla twirling is cut with flashback scenes, as I feel that by that time the audience has connected enough with Layla to not need a spelling-out of what is going on in their mind. But this was a minor moment in a story that does a great job in allowing its beautiful and complex protagonist to have a rich inner world.
Huge shout-out to the costume and set designers who have done such a brilliant job of capturing the essence of the spirits of different characters through what they wear and where they choose to spend their time. The supporting cast is phenomenal as well, with actors like Saffiya Ingar, Terique Jarret, and Time Bowie giving performances that feel organic and are truly brilliant. The queer friendships and familial relationships shown in the film are perhaps the closest portrayal that I have seen to what they are like in real life, and the warmth and coziness on-screen will make you want to be a part of Layla’s world. I cannot recommend this one enough—Layla will definitely stay with you long after the rolling credits.
