Jim Queen

The film’s musical flourishes and takedown of gay and straight cliches are always amusing, if old-school end of the pier.

As satire, it’s more loosely irreverent than devastatingly pointed, but alongside the satisfying potshots at the far right, Nguyen and Athané’s script also takes welcome aim at body fascism and other forms of discrimination within the gay community.

Without getting too sappy or strident, Jim Queen explores how sexual fluidity can open up exciting possibilities but also break people’s hearts. In the case of this cheeky picture, it can be pretty funny, too.

It’s the kind of silly, campy time its intended audience is sure to love, with plenty of moments that evoke joyful applause to accompany the many, many laughs. No matter one’s place in the queer community, and whether or not you’ve set foot in a gym, it’s a guaranteed delight.

There is a place for this, but the inherent ideas are often, for lack of a better word, basic. Overall, it’s simply not clever enough to transcend the genre.

“Jim Queen” along the way becomes a kind of I Spy for gay tropes that those in the audience will laugh at and recognize, but won’t be left to feel much about after gay humanity has been saved.

Jim Queen is a crass, profane, giddily stupid romp through a heap of stereotypes about gay life in Paris. It’s teeming with jokes about prostate orgasms, about tops and bottoms, about fetishes and bodily fluids and G’d out party bois. It comes as a welcome shock to the system here at this august, black-tie film festival. I just wish the movie was funnier and fresher than it is.