One of the many delights of writer/director Alexis Langlois’ directorial debut, “Queens of Drama,” is that to describe its genre requires stringing words that have probably never been assembled in the history of the English language before. It is (checks notes) a French lesbian pop-punk rock musical, with all the glitz, melodrama, and irresistible tunes such a descriptor would suggest. Focusing on the tumultuous relationship between pop star Mimi Madamour (Louiza Aura) and lesbian punk rocker Billie Kohler (Gio Ventura), the film traces how the two take turns flitting between friends, enemies, lovers, and rivals—topping the charts and bottoming each other.
Starting in 2055, the film introduces us to Steevyshady (Bilal Hassani), a histrionic video blogger and self-proclaimed #1 fan of Mimi’s, who promises the audience the tale of Mimi’s meteoric rise and unceremonious fall. He’s an unreliable narrator, which cleverly underscores the artifice of celebrity culture and the music industry. Did what we’re about to witness actually happen, or is it Steevyshady’s biased wish fulfillment? How much can we ever claim to know about our parasocial relationships with celebrities and stars?
The film then flashes back to 2005, when a young Mimi and Billie meet while competing for a singing show. They couldn’t be more distinct in disposition, but they can’t help but be magnetized toward each other. Billie is an underground punk rock musician, slinging the types of iconoclastic yet catchy lyrics that remain burned in your subconscious even if you don’t know any French (cue lines like “You and I will fuck the patriarchy”).
While Billie has no problem being unapologetically who she is and gleefully shades her activism with sensuality, Mimi is shown to be prone to manipulation, especially by the music executives and judges who can sniff out a naive and young pop star they can mold in their image. “You’re a tough diamond I want to cut,” one judge tells Mimi point-blank. It doesn’t take long before Mimi’s career takes off, becoming an international sensation through hit songs like “Don’t Touch.” Pressured to keep her sexuality hidden, Mimi presents as straight, and her relationship with Billie atrophies.
While you can see the end game for “Queens of Drama”—Mimi and Billie will exchange harsh words, find ways to reconcile, and repeat the cycle—it’s exciting to see them document their volatile relationship through the songs they make about each other. It’s telling that, rather than just having a conversation, Mimi and Billie feel like the only way they can converse is through the platform of music. There, their dirty laundry is on display for all to see and speculate about (as Steevyshady does obsessively).
Towards the end of the film, a character refers to the ever-elusive idea that “love means rejoicing in the existence of the one you love. Giving her the space to blossom without expecting anything.” For all its exuberance, “Queens of Drama” embodies that sentiment infectiously, letting its characters and story luxuriate (at nearly 2 hours, sometimes a bit too long).
Musical dramas often claim their fictitious musical stars are worthy of the audience’s attention, but struggle to deliver on the song front. But musicians Rebeka Warrior, Yelle, Pierre Desprats, and Mona Soyoc do more than craft catchy original tracks that explore rowdy queer sex (there are multiple songs about fisting and they’re all memorable); Langlois anchors the musical mythology with a rousing emotional center. Its transgressive musical numbers, deeply unserious tonal shifts, and larger-than-life characters make it a cult classic in the making, worthy of midnight film screenings (or a part of a sapphic love film series).
Marine Atlan’s cinematography is worth noting as well, using lighting to showcase the dissonance and connection between the two lovers. There’s one moment where Mimi and Billie dance together in a nightclub, and they’re bathed in a throbbing red light, their bodies almost blending into each other. It’s one of the film’s few amorous touches, where, despite the imperfect ways Mimi and Billie love each other, they’re in sync. This contrasts with a later shot where, at the cusp of Mimi’s stardom, she’s enveloped in the harsh white hues of the spotlight, while Billie, still swimming in that pulsating vermilion, watches in discordant horror.
“Queens of Drama” reflects its universal commentary on the predatory nature of the music industry, the violence of privileged stanhood, and the ways our stormy and tender relationships can directly impact our creative output. It’s a dizzying, life-affirming anthem about how it’s never too late to find your way home in the arms of your lover, even if you may have lost your way.
