Film Review: Femme
I was lucky enough to attend the first meeting of a monthly queer film club my friend has just set up. Creating queer spaces is incredibly important, and to have one so explicitly reserved for the enjoyment and discussion of queer cinema is a delight. One of the criteria considered when selecting the films for this club was to try and avoid filling the list with depressing films about horrible things happening to queer people. While it is a powerful and honest reflection of the horrific violence and prejudice experienced by queer people throughout history and today, it is also vitally important to celebrate queer joy, and the pieces of media that convey it.
Femme (2023, dir. Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping) achieves both of these. Jules (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) is a drag queen who is violently assaulted while in drag after performing on his birthday. Many months later, deep in depression following the attack, he encounters his assaulter, Preston (George MacKay), at a gay sauna, clocking him as a deeply closeted gay man. Seeing an opportunity for revenge, Jules begins an affair with Preston, intending to use their intimacy to his advantage.
While ostensibly a film about trauma, the story does meander, taking us from harrowing images of violence and gut-twisting anxiety, to touching moments of platonic intimacy and powerful moments of queer strength. These disparate emotional landscapes don’t feel confused however, in fact, these wildly contrasting scenes create a distinct and believable world, one with diversity and life.
These emotional shifts are assisted by the strong visual style and excellent soundtrack. The stunning cinematography and lighting create both dreamlike atmospheres and nightmarish headspaces, utilising light and dark to great effect. The score by Adam Janota and Bzowski is stunning, evoking the nightclub scene frequented by many of the characters. A film featuring drag queens would not be complete without a great soundtrack, and Femme does not disappoint. The upbeat diegetic house music and the paranoid atmospheric score feel cohesive with each other and the rest of the film, making the transitions between the wildly different scenes seamless.
The performances are excellent, Stewart-Jarrett and MacKay both excel in their respective roles, giving us a full range of performance. Their on-screen relationship, while often harrowing, is incredibly believable with each drawing out some truly stunning moments. It is in the relationship between Jules and Preston, the meat of the film, that some of the ethical questions surrounding the film start to arise.
The film portrays a complex and dysfunctional trauma response, whereby Jules actively puts himself in a dangerous position to win one over on the man who assaulted him. It also engages in a fetishisation of the violent closeted man, Preston is portrayed as more and more sympathetic as the film goes on, challenging our relationship to the violent behaviour we see him engage in. We also see a lot of sex and a lot of bloodshed, again challenging our position as a viewer and our ability to view these images in juxtaposition.
While an important and often uplifting film, it is ultimately a tragedy. Neither of the two main characters are wholly justified in their behaviour, nor are they completely reprehensible. They bring out the best and the worst in each other, and enjoy a thoroughly unhealthy emotional space. This left us all with a slightly sour taste in our mouths after watching, not quite sure where we sat with what we had seen.
I would argue that is the purpose of good art, and queer art in particular; to force us to ask these difficult questions and grapple with positions we thought we held solidly. This film definitely achieves this and does so with an unfailing sense of style. Slick, seductive, and slightly traumatising, Femme is an explosion of queer rage, a film that will burrow its way into your head and leave you thinking about it long after.
4 stars
