Jim Queen is a movie that sells very well (or not at all, depending on the potential audience) with just a one-line elevator pitch. A comic about two gay men — one a witty, brash influencer, the other a shy, secretive gaffe — teaming up to fight Heterosis, a proselytizing virus unleashed by the conservative right on vulnerable queer communities. You’re either in or you’re out, so to speak, and if you think the premise itself is too preposterous to work, French duo Marco Nguyen and Nicolas Attane’s giddy pastel-filled satire has none of it. It will convince you otherwise. But if this idea elicits laughs, many other parts of “Gym Queen” will, too. It’s a short, focused barrage of jokes, both good and bad, with enough energy and zeal to keep a cheerful spirit throughout.
A rarity at the Cannes Film Festival, a wide-ranging and cheeky comedy that premiered in the Midnight section and stands in stark contrast to the usual genre offerings, “Jim Queen” is in some ways a very French production, with local There are specific cultural and political satires (including a chilling fascist villain who some liken to Marine Le Pen, though she is more directly modeled on Sarkozy-era gay rights opponent Christine Boutin). But it also easily applies to nearly every market where there is a vocal political movement against queer rights, one that is far more widespread than it needs to be around the world.
If the film’s somewhat non-intersectional evocation of Paris’s queer community (focusing more on G than LBTQ) makes Nguyen and Assane’s film feel a little dated in some respects, that doesn’t affect the project’s generally giddy fun, and it won’t stop “Gym Queen” from becoming a staple on the Queer Fest circuit next year.
It opens with a bang, with a musical number that’s so lighthearted, funny, and upbeat that you might wish the entire movie had been dedicated to this genre. In a gymnasium full of plush buffs (as many as 24, to quote a vulgar visual gag), gay men blurt out praises to a lifestyle of physical beauty over a pounding EDM beat, to a militaristic synchronicity of hitting treadmills, drinking protein shakes, and injecting steroids into their butts. Their alpha leader is Jim (voiced by Alex Ramirez), a ginger-bearded Adonis with rock-hard pecs and a pretty soft brain, but he doesn’t have a legion of Instagram followers and OnlyFans subscribers following his thoughts.
Among these followers is Lucien (Jérémie Gillet), a repressed young virgin. He longs to be part of the gay community, but lacks the courage to come out to his domineering mother Christine (Elizabeth Weiner). She also happens to be this country’s far-right health minister. Outside his bedroom, a literal closet lined with sex toys and gym posters is visualized in a manner similar to Ariel’s dry land memorabilia cave in The Little Mermaid, complete with a fitting ballad of yearning.
When Jim contracts the sexually transmitted disease heterosis virus (a disease that causes a desire to move to the suburbs and have children with the opposite sex, causing his muscles to atrophy and shrink into daddy size), his social media presence dwindles, leaving Lucien as his only remaining fan. Instead, Jim and Lucien team up to discover the cause of heterosis and how to cure it, as the gay public flocks to Jim’s stalwart rival, Pavel, wittyly voiced by porn icon François Sagat. It’s a quest that takes them along a neon obstacle course of nightclubs, cruising grounds, and chemsex parties, pursued in turn by an enraged Christine and Gaystapo, a “Prostate Pleasure Protection” movement that resorts to violent reverse conversation therapy tactics to combat the virus.
As a satire, it’s loosely irreverent rather than devastatingly sharp, but alongside satisfying potshots on the far right, Nguyen and Assane’s script also takes welcome aim at body fascism and other forms of discrimination within the gay community. It’s not like the film spends too much time preaching morals, even though there are so many throwaway lines and sight gags to get through as it builds up to a conclusion that advocates vigorous anal sex as a universal cure.
The humor and storytelling can be likened to “South Park” in its nonsensical rapid escalation into absurdity, and the broadly cartoonish animation style, with its clean lines, bulging eyes, and flat color expanses of ’80s shopping mall decor in shades of pink, lilac, and spearmint, is a reminder of how seriously the whole enterprise should be taken. At one point, Jim, Lucian, and their friends sneak into Christine’s heavily guarded mansion under the cover of a literal Trojan unicorn, and exit through its rectum. This is another very silly and very funny visual joke that sums up the no-nonsense, no-compromise approach of ‘The Gym Queen’.
