In the remix of club comedown banger ‘Everything Is Romantic’, Charli xcx transformed her original ode to an transcendent Italian vacation into a lowkey existential freakout in London. The confessional hits on brat after a parade of bolshy odes to drugs and dancing, the musical equivalent of waking up in an unfamiliar living room at four in the afternoon or waiting for the nightbus cradling a Diet Coke like it’s a crucifix. “It’s like you’re living the dream, but you’rе not living your life,” Caroline Polachek whispers to Charli. “Everything’s still romantic, right?” Charli breathes back.
The feature debut from Charli’s mate Jordan Firstman’s Club Kid is reading from the same hymn sheet (or doing a bump with the same banknote). On triple duty as writer, director and star, Firstman certainly had his work cut out to show he’s more than a social media personality and the I Love L.A cast member who pissed off the fiercely passionate Heated Rivalry fanbase so much in January he was subsequently made to do some awkward damage control by HBO (who were distributing both shows in the USA). All this to say: there’s a lot of lore here that makes the text metatext, and Firstman’s the first to acknowledge it. “Google Claire Danes Philippines!” he shouts to a partygoer who doesn’t understand the in-joke Peter (Firstman) and his friends are referring to at the club. In true Firstman fashion, Club Kid is a “The girls that get it, get it” dramedy, and if you don’t speak the language, you have to at least be willing to open Duolingo.
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Peter’s a Big City bon vivant; when we meet him in 2016 he’s just launching his monthly party ‘Club Labor’ with bestie Sophie (Cara Delevigne) and everyone’s arguing over whether ‘Blonde’ or ‘Lemonade’ is the album of the year. He’s young and hot and the drugs are free; that’s how he ends up having sex with British holidaymaker Leonora despite being a gold-star gay. A decade later he’s waking up hungover most days, dealing drugs most nights, and Sophie can’t stand the sight of him. The party’s over, but Peter can’t bring himself to leave. It’s only when Leonora’s bezzie mate Edison turns up on his doorstep with 10-year-old Arlo (Reggie Absolom) in tow and some shocking revelations about his parentage that Peter’s forced to wake the fuck up.
We’ve seen the dynamic play out before, from Paper Moon to C’mon C’mon by way of Big Daddy and Ideal Home. An ill-suited (literal or metaphorical) father is landed with a kid they didn’t want, and thus changes the trajectory of their life. Peter doesn’t even know what to do with Arlo at first, unable to recall the last time he even spoke to a child while his social circle reacts to the sudden appearance of a small human like a giraffe’s just walked into the room. But crisis breeds innovation; the terminally irresponsible Peter, little by little, starts trying to get his shit together for his kid, and soon they’re bonding over Cocteau Twins and he’s trying to work out how to enrol Arlo in school. In the process, between learning how to be a Dad, occasionally fucking up, and meeting the exceeding wise and handsome therapist Oscar (Diego Calva) Peter realises that there might be some connective tissue between his compulsive hard partying and a self-hatred so lived-in he doesn’t even question its validity.
Like the very best remixes, Club Kid is familiar at its core but lovingly transformed by a new artist. Firstman’s a gifted comedic writer and actor, and strikes gold with first-time actor Reggie Absolom (a monumental find by casting director Lucy Bevan; Carmen Cuba also deserves her flowers for filling out the film’s colourful cast of NYC reprobates, notably Eldar Isgandarov as Peter’s mooching couch surfer Nicky). The acerbic humour is smartly tempered with warmth and sweetness; to be queer is to get used to finding joy and comedy in the most punishing of circumstances, and this holds true for Peter and Arlo. When real life finally intrudes on their odd couple domestic idyll it’s a painfully honest reminder that everything can’t just be magical all the time, but family transcends the boundaries of blood or geography. Maybe everything is romantic after all.
