Set in London’s glittery drag scene, Layla centres on the titular non-binary performer (played with natural charisma by newcomer Bilal Hasna). As they fall for a strait-laced businessman, Layla finds themself caught between self-fulfilment and cultural heritage, love and autonomy, visibility and safety. What unfolds is a part-queer love story, part-drag musical, part-family drama. British-Iraqi, first-time director Al-Kahdi is a non-binary drag performer themself.

Layla is a glamorous and confident presence in the queer nightclub Feathers. Offstage, they resort to their deadname Latif in order to fit in with their traditional Palestinian family. Layla starts a passionate yet tense romance with Max (Louis Greatorex). He hesitates to publicly embrace Layla’s flamboyant drag persona, particulalry in front of his parents. A deeply offended Layla increasingly questions whether that’s true love. The stage becomes the only space where Layla feels whole.

Whether lip-syncing Arab pop or clipping off their nail extensions, Hasna shines in the lead. He smoothly navigates the many dualities of the protagonist: glamorous and vulnerable, outspoken and withdrawn. Greatorex gives his thinly written character a mix of charm and social clumsiness. It is never clear Layla why can’t resist him. Their romance exists mostly in order to illustrate the limits of social acceptance. Max represents white complacence. From the beginning, unspoken bias taints their relationship.

Al-Kadhi’s screenplay, co-written by producers Jess Dempsey and Savannah James-Bayly, falters in the more didactic moments. Tension simply evaporates. The plot clings too closely to familiar romance formula: meet cute, bonding, crisis, breakup, awakening. Al-Kadhi is more in their element when bringing their own drag background into the story. Colour, light, and rhythm serve as emotional cues. Saturated neon empowers the dramatic drag scenes. Cooler, washed-out hues signal moments of personal conflict. The energetic, eclectic and accessible soundtrack blends Western pop, Middle Eastern melodies, and electro-drag anthems to excellent results, reflecting Layla’s own hybrid identity.

Tinsel, fake eyelashes, stiletto heels, and wild hairpieces: the clothes and the make-up are a real trest. Cinematographer Craig Dean Devine and costume designer Cobbie Yates create a world that’s joyous and flamboyant, if a tad clichéd. These vibes are in stark contrast to Max’s monochromatic existence (the corporate and family environments). The differences are aesthetic, emotional and political. Drag here is an activist performance, and a healing tool. Layla’s stage persona embodies defiance and catharsis. The images speak louder than the words (in fact the dialogue can be a little glib).

This uplifting message is undermined by the middle-class privilege, upon which all characters rely. It’s not so easy to break off family ties, romances, and employment if one is economically dependant on them. Layla is genuine yet full of contradictory messages. Just like its eponymous lead.

Layla just premiered at Tiff Romania.