You’ll learn a lot about your friends while seeing Jim Queen. Who they see as the villain, the damsel in distress, hero, or muse may reveal lots about their inclinations. But no matter what tickles your fancy, get ready to laugh. The very funny Jim Queen playfully throws shade and pours tea in all directions.
This outrageously fabulous lark may just about be the gayest animated film without Bert and Ernie. The film by directors and co-writers Marco Nguyen and Nicolas Athané serves animated realness with a side of sass as a beefed up gymfluencer, Jim Queen (Alex Ramirès), loses his mojo when a devastating virus called heterotosis threatens to turn the whole world straight. Jim fashions himself as the ultimate beefcake narcissus as he fawns over his reflection in the feed. But Jim’s so locked in and turned on by his own gigantic pecs and washboard abs that he fails to see the diversity of the queer scene that pumps his numbers up. He’s the object of many man’s desire, but has eyes only for himself.
Jim Queen traverses the subgroups within gay culture as Jim seeks a cure for heterotosis. He embarks on a journey through fields of cruisers, drag queens, club kids, pups, leather daddies, and bears—oh, my!—with a fawning little twink, Lucien (Jérémy Gillet), nipping at his heels. Lucien, an innocent virgin, follows Jim into these pockets of gay life with wide-eyed wonder. The enchanting musk of a sweaty sneaker thrills him, while the magic of a drag mother named Glamydia positively delights. She inspires him to float towards the sparkles of little gay magic around him. That’s a big shift from his biological mother, France’s crotchety health minister. She keeps him under lock and key and insists he deny aspects of himself that could let him thrive.
A wild sashay through the yassification of queer culture follows as Jim and Lucien unite in their shared quests. Their adventure navigates stereotypes and anxieties that men have in a culture that glorifies specific body types—the ultra-masculine, muscular Adonis that Jim embodies—while also having a laugh over the fine line that makes these men unattractively square.
As heterotosis consumes Jim’s body, he learns to follow sports terms and love lady boobs. All the while, the odyssey inspires Lucien to develop his gaydar while feeding his curiosity for kinks and fetishes. The film manages to conjure laughs without yucking anybody’s yum, too. Lucien’s role in Jim’s quest offers a lesson in embracing the power bottom within and, in turn, teaches Jim not to be wary of the rail-thin behinds that are equally deserving of an out-of-this-world pounding. The film also features talking prostates, which makes it about as clear counter-programming to Wildwood as one may find.
Nguyen and Athané, working with co-writers Brice Cevillard and Simon Balteaux, find a magical way of bringing every stripe of the gay scene into the fold while poking them in the ribs as well. The inclusiveness admittedly doesn’t span the full spectrum of the LGBTQ+ rainbow, as Jim Queen, largely due to the limited worldview of its protagonist, generally keeps its gaze towards men who love men. There’s roughly one lesbian character and no identifiable transpeople. However, in rooting the vibrant candy-coloured adventure so specifically in one group, Jim Queen delivers some great laughs. It has fun with the catty dynamics between sub-groups of gay culture. But it also roots the farcical story in legitimate concerns that one demographic faces. And, by implication, speaks to other groups with shared stakes in their freedom to love.
Much in the fashion of last year’s whackadoodle odyssey Lesbian Space Princess, Jim Queen seems destined for cult status. It’s fun, sassy, and so unabashedly fine with playing to its core audience. It creates a safe space for everyone to share a laugh. It knows that the haters won’t bother and doesn’t aim to pander to their tastes. (They’re well represented in Lucien’s mom, anyways.)
Vibrant animation favours pinks and fluorescent hues to accentuate all that’s fab and flamboyant about the world of Jim Queen. The animation team has lots of fun making man candy part of the film’s modus operandi, too. Bulges, bubble butts, and big-titted chests—hairy ones, too–grace every frame. The character design playfully harnesses the aesthetic that Jim and Lucien both share when looking for the ideal man. Meanwhile, the spirited voice performances keep things light and quick on their feet.
The film, which translates its humour well for a French production, exudes an effervescent Euro trash-chic sensibility to sexuality. It also refreshingly creates a gay culture that generally exists free of Drag Race references. Aside from one obligatory Lipsync for Your Life battle, Jim Queen gives a timeless nod to scenes that exist outside of mainstream entertainment. It’s naughty, but nice enough to let audiences dip their toes in all sorts of kinks as they go along for the ride with Lucien. Where moviegoers stick their toes afterwards is entirely up to them. Whatever gets them off.
