Jason Patel and Ben Hardy star in ‘Unicorns,’ a queer love story that doesn’t give equal footing to its characters’ developments.
Unicorns, a joint effort by directors Sally El Hosaini and James Krishna Floyd, is an amalgamation of the same insidious tropes hidden underneath a promising premise. Like so many films about marginalized characters, Unicorns is made for a voyeuristic audience unfamiliar with the experience of marginalization. The marginalized character at its center is an exotic object who is continuously beaten down throughout the film in service of the growth of the white character, who serves as the love interest. For straight and white audiences, this might seem like a unique tale of romance. For queer audiences of color, this is a tale as old as time.
Unicorns follows the story of South Asian drag queen Aysha (Jason Patel) and single father Luke (Ben Hardy). After Luke stumbles into a club where Aysha is performing, the two form a connection. Aysha hires Luke, who works as a mechanic, to drive her to her gigs. This introduces Luke to an entirely new world, where he struggles to find his identity. Meanwhile, Aysha struggles to reconcile her identity as a drag performer and her role in her family.
Aesthetically, Unicorns balances glitter and grit. When the characters are truest to themselves, the colors are vibrant, and the cinematography takes on a dreamy quality. When they are repressing who they are, the environment is drab, and the cinematography is flat. Visually, Unicorns is a stunning film. Its best moments are spent luxuriating in the joy of Aysha expressing her femininity: the jingle of gold jewelry, the careful application of makeup, and the bright fabrics she adorns herself with. Unfortunately, these moments are also few and far between. This is a film more interested in reveling in queer trauma than queer joy, and the decision to humiliate Aysha at seemingly every turn quickly grows tiresome.
Unicorns only cares about half of the romance.
The chemistry between the two leads is undeniable, and both Patel and Hardy give good performances. All of the fault lies in the writing, which forgoes respect for Aysha in exchange for Luke’s evolution. Their first encounter immediately exoticizes and others Aysha, centering Luke’s discomfort surrounding the implications their connection has for his sexual identity.
In fact, their entire romance centers around Luke. The scene in which Aysha reprimands Luke for using a slur before explaining her gender identity to him foreshadows the dynamic of their relationship: Aysha exists for Luke’s benefit, and she will receive little reward for making him a more empathetic person. She is allowed little to no agency in the relationship, and their romance feels like yet another thing she must endure.
The bottom line.
Unicorns is not a good queer film because its queer character is not treated with the dignity that she deserves, and queer characters of color deserve more than to be a stepping stone on a white man’s path to discovering empathy. There are so few films depicting queer femmes, and fewer still that depict them in healthy relationships. It feels essential, given the current political climate, that queer stories are handled with queer audiences in mind without exploitation or fetishization of suffering.
Unicorns is now playing in select theaters. Watch the trailer here.
Images courtesy of Cohen Media Group. Read more articles by Isabella Cantillano-Sanchez here.
REVIEW RATING
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Unicorns - 1/10
1/10
