‘Club Kid’ review: Fatherhood is one hell of an afterparty

Jordan Firstman’s directorial debut, Club Kid, finds unexpected tenderness in queer nightlife and the complicated business of growing up.

There’s something a little heartbreaking about being the person who makes sure everyone else has a good time. You know the right people, the right music, the precise moment when a party needs another drink or a change of scenery. You become indispensable for a few hours, and then… They all go home. Club Kid understands the strange loneliness that can accompany this unique brand of popularity. It also understands the pleasure of it, which makes Jordan Firstman’s debut such an appealing surprise.

This is a funny, frequently outrageous film about a man whose entire adult life revolves around being entertaining. Being on. Only to discover that someone else might actually, truly need him. Firstman finds considerable warmth in that contrast, along with a surprisingly perceptive portrait of queer community and the emotional habits people carry into middle age.

Firstman writes, directs, and stars in Club Kid, an A24 comedy-drama that draws on the abrasive, hyper-specific humor that made him an internet sensation before his appearances in Rotting in the Sun and I Love LA. He plays Peter, a Brooklyn nightlife promoter whose personality seems to consist entirely of cultural references, recreational drugs, and the ability to turn almost any conversation into a performance.

Cara Delevingne plays Sophie, his increasingly exasperated business partner, while Kirby Howell-Baptiste, Saturn Risin9, and Diego Calva round out the supporting cast. But the film’s real discovery is newcomer Reggie Absolom, whose wonderfully understated performance as Peter’s son Arlo gives Firstman an ideal scene partner. Together, they establish a relationship that feels considerably more interesting than the familiar premise initially suggests.

A different kind of family.

The film opens in 2016 with a group of friends screaming along to Rihanna in the back of an Uber, the camera spinning around them as though it too has joined the festivities. This especially chaotic evening eventually leads Peter into an unexpected sexual encounter. And ten years later, he continues living much the same way. Although the parties have begun to take a toll on his professional relationships and increasingly fragile sense of self-worth.

Then comes Arlo, the ten-year-old son Peter never knew about, who enters his life following his mother’s death. Suddenly, Peter has to figure out how to care for a child while barely managing his own responsibilities. Arlo, meanwhile, loves music, wants to DJ, and approaches his father’s eccentric social circle with remarkable curiosity. Their relationship develops through small, funny negotiations over food, friendship, and the peculiar rules of Peter’s world.

Firstman uses this premise to explore how adulthood changes our relationship to the communities that shaped us. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra establishes the film’s visual language through restless movement, saturated nightclub lighting, and bodies pressed together in rooms that seem to stretch endlessly into the night. The camera initially shares Peter’s exhilaration, following him through crowded dance floors with an almost intoxicating intimacy. As his responsibilities change, those same environments acquire a different emotional texture.

The music remains loud, but Peter starts paying attention to what else happens around him. The soundtrack’s combination of pounding club music and carefully chosen alternative tracks also establishes a connection between father and son, particularly through Arlo’s surprisingly sophisticated tastes. Music becomes their shared vocabulary, offering Peter a way to communicate beyond his usual repertoire of jokes and deflections.

Learning to stay.

The film works best when Firstman trusts these observations and allows the characters to discover one another through ordinary interactions. Absolom brings a wonderful steadiness to Arlo, whose affection for his father’s friends helps reveal the generosity beneath their extravagant personalities. Firstman, meanwhile, proves remarkably capable of making Peter’s self-absorption both hilarious and quietly painful. Their chemistry gives the film most of its emotional credibility.

The screenplay becomes shakier when custody complications push the story toward a more conventional dramatic climax. Peter’s transformation occasionally follows an overly convenient trajectory, while his developing romance with Calva’s social worker deserves more attention than it ultimately receives.

These choices simplify some of the contradictions that make the earlier scenes so compelling. Still, Firstman’s affection for his characters carries real weight. And his willingness to treat queer nightlife as a meaningful community gives the film a welcome and paradoxically universal specificity.

The bottom line.

At its best, Club Kid suggests that growing older involves learning which parts of ourselves deserve preservation and which habits have outlived their usefulness. Firstman approaches that realization with humor, affection, and an encouraging degree of self-awareness. His debut occasionally reaches for easy sentiment, but its strongest moments reveal a filmmaker with an unusually sharp understanding of how people use performance to negotiate intimacy.

Peter’s journey ultimately concerns the difficult work of becoming someone another person can depend on. Even when doing so requires surrendering a little control over the evening. The result is a wonderfully entertaining, unexpectedly touching comedy about discovering a life worth showing up for.

Club Kid opens in limited release on November 6. Watch the trailer here.

Images courtesy of A24.

Jon Negroni

Jon is one of the co-founders of InBetweenDrafts. He hosts the podcasts Thank God for Movies, Mad Men Men, Rookie Pirate Radio, and Fantasy Writing for Barbarians. He doesn’t sleep, essentially.