Megan Bartholomew

“I wanted to create a narrative that celebrated queer life, particularly queer Arab life, with unapologetic joy and tenacity.” 

These are the words director Amrou Al-Kadhi used to describe their debut feature film, Layla, following the self-discovery journey of the titular character Layla, a young, non-binary Arab drag queen struggling with the nuances of their identity. The result is a colorful and emotional film, full of just as much fun and flair as its director. 

Over the course of the film, Al-Kadhi’s script and characters take on complex identity explorations, from queer binary constructs to the challenge of being a child of Arab immigrants, and from “femme phobia” in the LGBTQ+ community to finding ‘self’ in a digital age. 

“I was tired of endless trauma narratives surrounding the queer Arab experience,” Al-Kadhi says. In avoiding those traumas, Al-Kadhi crafted a story of genuine connection, discovery and realistic heartbreak, a rarity for queer performers, especially those in drag. 

“Drag creates an accessible fantasy for the audience, acting as tokens for ‘woke’ societies” explains Al-Kadhi. “They are constantly modifying themselves for the role, and even in everyday life Layla transcends many worlds, often conflicting ones.” 

In Layla, a character is presented with that same facade of shiny surface candy, but is allowed to deliver what actor Bilal Hasna describes as ‘raw queer meat.’ Notably, Layla is permitted to have an inherent sexuality. Often, drag queens are only permitted to exist in a performative space. Layla, however, strays from the typical masc and cis-centered queer narrative, allowing femme energy and discovery to be on full display in the bedroom, a rarity among gay romances. 

Bilal Hasna delivered a remarkable performance as Latif-turned-Layla, embodying every contradiction of the role with confidence. Hansa allowed for endless self-modification–it was indeed striking how much the character’s aura morphed based on clothing and appearance. Though never fully realized or integrated, Hasna slowly allowed those identities to merge, bringing Layla (as a drag queen) poise and energy to the titular character’s daily persona. 

“Layla (and by translation, Bilal) was the ultimate shapeshifter,” says Al-Kadhi. “Both were constantly trying to embody the in-between.” 

Other characters in the film acted as ideal contrasts for Layla’s spark and joy. Best friend character Princy (played by Safiyya Ingar who fans may recognize from the Witcher franchise on Netflix) embodies a darker aesthetic against Layla’s fluorescent one, bringing a healthy dose of attitude to go along with it. On the other hand, love interest Max brings a beige-toned, gay cis-male opposition to Layla’s full-of-glitter life, but the performance itself was anything but bland. 

When casting Max, the producers landed on soft-spoken Louis Greatorex to embody the still-navigating lover. When browsing auditions, many actors seemed to fill the two-dimensional ‘bad guy’ jock trope. Greatorex’s corporate exterior and heartfelt performance allowed for a more realistic portrait of a gay relationship in the modern age, allowing Al-Kadhi’s story to play out without feeling contrived. 

Though Layla’s final transformations may not be fully realized or completed, the film leaves the door wide open for fluidity and potential, offering a sunny future for non-binary youth. 

“This film demands a full life of dignity and love for Layla by creating a new world for them to embody.” 

In college, one of my required readings was an illustrated volume by Lauren Redniss, which detailed the biographical details and discoveries of Marie and Pierre Curie. The book was a fascinating portrait of the scientists, and took a very technical story to beautiful new heights with graphic, fluorescent imagery. I still flip through its pages simply for the beauty from time to time. 

The documentary Frida, directed by Carla Gutierrez, debuted in Sundance’s U.S. Documentary division, took a similar approach. However, rather than portraying scientific discovery with unexpected beauty, the film took the already beautiful and complex life of famed painter Frida Kahlo and gave life to her well-known work, infusing her takes on beauty into the biographical format of documentary. 

How, you may ask? With authenticity and animation. 

The documentary script was comprised of compiled entries in the voices of friends, lovers, and from Frida herself. Much of the story of Kahlo’s life was told in her own words, drawn verbatim from her own illustrated diaries, allowing the painter’s innermost thoughts to become the soundtrack to her art repertoire, which this film’s production team brought to vibrant life with intuitive animation. 

Every era of Frida’s life got a dedicated visual backing, whether it was historic photographs from that time (each imbued with a bit of beauty and liveliness through tactful colorization), never-before-seen sketches from Kahlo’s diary pages or a reimagined, galvanized version of one of her many instantly-recognisable works of art. 

The documentary tactilely presents hallmark moments in Kahlo’s life through art, from the horrific bus crash that started her trademark self-portraiture when she became bedridden, to a miscarriage that shook her from heavily Rivera-influenced collections back into her own surrealist style. 

This unmatched, imaginative format taken on by Gutierrez brought a new life to the possibilities within the documentary world, delivering reimagined beauty to the biography of a breathtaking woman. 

Irish-Language hip hop trio Kneecap took Sundance by storm in their debut, self-titled film, and reveled in celebrating their heritage. 

Director Rich Peppiatt was inspired to tell the story of riotous hip-hop trio Kneecap from his first encounter with their music. Drawn to the group’s raw authenticity and passion, the filmmaker touched base with Kneecap’s management team for months, finally landing a meeting through their booking agent to begin crafting Kneecap, which made its Sundance debut over the weekend and was purchased by Sony Pictures Classics, marking the first major sale of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival.

The film is a rowdy and passionate fictional re-telling of the formation of Kneecap, as portrayed (á la Eminem’s “8-Mile”) by the trio themselves: Moglai Bap, Mo Chara, and the ever-elusive DJ Provai, finally making his public debut sans balaclava. Supported by Michael Fassbender, who plays Bap’s fictional exiled IRA father, and a host of dynamite characters, the crew brings to life a fun-filled, drug-fueled and deeply emotional story of pride in identity, in heritage, and in language. 

A big strength among those characters were the women. From Liam Óg’s racy protestant bedroom partner to Naioise’s West Belfast strong mother, and from DJ Provai’s activist wife to a fully bad-cop detective, the female forces in the film were ones to be reckoned with. 

The cast themselves were impressed with the writing behind each character. “They are all very varied, different and rich in their own ways, and are beautifully intertwined into the film,” says Fionnula Flaherty, who plays the Irish-language activist wife of JJ (DJ Provai). 

Jessica Reynolds, who plays fictional Kneecap member Liam Óg’s super-sexual love interest Georgia, wholeheartedly agrees. “It was terrifying for me to go in and do a role like this, because she is so fucking raunchy and mad,” she says. “In the past, if women do roles like these they could be typecast, or judged for presenting their bodies on screen. But genuinely this was the most freeing role. I am so glad I did it–I hope it helps people accept those type of people, because those types of women fucking exist and deserve to exist without judgment.” 

In the Q&A, director Rich Peppiatt shared that the depth of the female characters was critical to the story’s development. He explained that they didn’t want the women to merely serve the boys in the story, but rather to have their own narrative arcs. 

The emotional connection to women runs deep for Kneecap, as evidenced as much by their performance in the film as by their commentary afterward. 

“Obviously the Irish language is a growing community, but there is a silent part of that community that is the mothers and women who never get the credit they deserve for raising their kids and speaking Irish to their kids,” says Moglai Bap. “Language can only be rebuilt through families, and the script really represents this. We are very happy the women were represented properly in this movie–without them, none of us would be speaking Irish.” 

“That’s why it’s called the ‘mother tongue,’” adds a balaclava-clad DJ Provai. 

Irish mothers were honored in the soundtrack as well as the script, largely thanks to the influence of composer Michael ‘Mikey’ J. Asante, who joined the project to bring the beats. “He really just got the vibe right away,” Peppiatt says. “There are not a lot of composers who come from the hip hop world, but he came in and brought not only heavy beats and the tones of tribal vibe harking back to folklore than ran through everything in the film, but he also did such a good job of bringing real emotion to the soundtrack.” 

For example, a bespoke composition of Orbital’s “Belfast” uses the sounds of the film’s resident mother, Dolores, singing to represent her power as she is leaving the house for the first time to support her son. “We actually seeded her voice in the score through the film, so she is a sonic presence throughout,” Peppiatt shares. “She is always present through the film, even though she doesn’t hardly leave the house–because mums are always there.”

All in all, the film was a raucous success with the audience. It’s the kind of project you can tell was a true collaboration among friends, with the perfect doses of ad-lib humor and fervor for a cause that only comes from a truly united and dedicated team. We’re calling it here: if you haven’t heard of Kneecap yet, you certainly will. Hold on to your pints, lads, because Kneecap is coming. 

A performance in celebration of performance itself, Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson’s Ghostlight explores the power of theater as a tool for therapy, connection and self-discovery. 

“Ghostlight centers on Dan (Keith Kupferer), a melancholic middle-aged construction worker grieving a family tragedy. Cut off from his devoted wife, Sharon (Tara Mallen), and talented but troubled daughter, Daisy (Katherine Mallen Kupferer), Dan finds comfort and community in a misfit company of amateur actors. While moonlighting in a low-rent production of Shakespeare’s most protean tragedy, Dan is forced to confront his buried emotions.”—sundance.org.

Ghostlight was one of the more tangibly emotional films I saw over the course of the festival, in a way that went beyond the notably brilliant work of the cast. The score (or lack thereof, sometimes), the camera work and the dialogue all perfectly captured the uncomfortable emotions bursting from lead Dan (played by Kupferer). Now, that’s not to say the cast performance didn’t make a definite impact: Dan’s bumbling, Daisy’s full-volume outbursts and even Rita’s (Dolly De Leon) soft-spoken intensity all contribute to the power of every scene, both on-screen and on stage. 

On the subject of the soundtrack, I was struck by the interspersed use of infamous musical theater tracks, from “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” to “Out of My Dreams” as the backing to more or less mundane everyday life activities. These track choices showcased how storytelling and showmanship can deeply influence and infiltrate life’s simplest moments, bringing every viewer, like Dan, bumbling into a love of the theater. 

One of the most engaging elements of the film was the expertly executed, slow-burn mystery of the tragedy that has befallen the story’s central family. It begins the introduction with insights into the clearly troubled life of Daisy, the family’s teen daughter. There are allusions to a cryptic lawsuit involving the family’s absent son and an apparent former partner, but the audience is not given the immediate, satisfying explanation many might expect. Rather, it is not until one of those impressively emotional moments that Dan is able to reveal a tragedy that very closely mirrors that of Romeo and Juliet, the play Dan finds himself part of after pulled into rehearsals by newfound friend Rita. 
With all combined elements working together in full force, Ghostlight becomes a heartfelt, vulnerable story of self-discovery and family connection, playing out in the most unexpected of places: in front of an audience on stage in the most unlikely of Shakespearean performances. If you’re looking for a feel-good film in a modern retelling of a classic, look no further.