Jordan Firstman has forged his reputation in comedy with a spiky and unapologetically queer sense of humor, as seen in his writing for Search Party, and his performances in Sebastián Silva's dark comedy Rotting in the Sun, and Rachel Sennott's chic satire I Love LA. Firstman stays strongly on brand with his directorial debut, Club Kid. But this New York City story is also a hopeful fairy tale about growing up and getting your shit together.
Smartly cast and full of energy, Club Kid is a feel-good movie that doesn't fall into the trap of being overly sentimental. It's far less broad that Big Daddy, Mr. Mom, or Three Men and a Baby, and exponentially more queer. But reflective of the film itself, it's the throbbing heart at its core that suggests Firstman's perspective is growing as his hero is.
Club Kid is a comedy for the fuck-ups.
Imagine someone made a movie about your messiest friend. And if you are that friend, brace yourself to be seen. (We listen, and we do judge a little!)
Written, helmed, and starring Firstman, Club Kid centers on Peter Green, a flailing party promoter who's spent the last decade or so doing hard drugs, staying out all night, and hooking up with untold men in Manhattan (and perhaps some of the cooler outer boroughs).
Now in his thirties, this lifestyle isn't as cute as it used to be. Crashing on his couch is Nicky (Eldar Isgandarov), a surly twink who fancies himself a "low-key philosopher." Thrashing his business is his inability to resist the coke and ketamine that he's selling on the side of party planning. Showing up sloppy high to a sales meeting puts him on the outs with his ferocious business partner (Cara Delevingne), who feels smugly superior for being able to handle a bump before lunch.
It's into all this chaos that Arlo (Reggie Absolom) is dropped. Kirby Howell-Baptiste, in an explosion of British party girl charisma and comedic outrageousness, turns up as Edison, who drops a bomb with a smile. Ten-year-old Arlo is Peter's son, spawned from a forgotten threesome a decade ago. His mom, a Brit he knew as "Innit babes," went back to London, had the kid, got abused by her boyfriend, and ultimately died by suicide. So, Edison reasons, Arlo belongs to his bio dad now.
Peter is so bad at adulting he can't even begin to make sense of this. But he does give the kid a place to stay and begins to grow attached. They bond over music. And being raised by a mom addicted to the party scene, Arlo is familiar with Peter's world in some vague way, and so quickly wins over a clutch of overgrown club kids, including a beguiling trans DJ called Saffron (Saturn Risin9).
Meanwhile, Peter sees himself in a new light through Arlo's eyes. Could he be more than a dealer and an aging addict? Could he be a responsible dad? Could he abstain from casual sex and hard partying and settle into a loving relationship with Arlo's therapist (Diego Calva)? Club Kid paves a path where this could be possible, but not without some logical bumps along the way.
Club Kid shows Firstman has a distinctive vision as a director.
As you might expect of a New York City-set movie premiering at NYFF, Club Kid depicts the city with an authentic intimacy. For starters, the film begins inside an Uber, where the stoic driver (Jamil Zraikat) speaks gently on the phone in a foreign language, before his car is overrun with tweaking club kids who crank up house music and sing along, while their bodies shimmy in feathers, sequins, sweat, and glitter.
Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra follows Peter from the cab into a club, where the lights are a bleeding purple neon, and the music blares so loud the theatrical audience might be tempted to cover their ears. Yet, it's clear from Firstman's onscreen thrall that Peter feels at home in this cacophony. Later, after Arlo becomes part of his life, the lights are red, blurring more features, and the handheld camera that once expressed enthusiasm turns panicked. A strobe light that bursts white in a relentless pulse throws the audience into a desperate search to make out what's on screen, reflecting Peter's panic as he seeks a missing Arlo.
In calmer moments, the static camera captures everyday New York events with awe, like flipping through the bins of a vintage record shop, chatting on a park bench with a friend, or moving a gifted piano up an unwelcoming staircase. The use of 35mm enhances the romance of the city, imbuing each frame with the familiar grain distortion many generations still associate with cinema. Firstman and Newport-Berra create a terrific balance of the beauty and unpredictability of New York. So, when Arlo speaks simply of his affection for the city, there's a flush of comfort in knowing he gets it.
Club Kid is brilliantly cast.
First up, Firstman wrote a role for himself that's strategic and well-suited. He gets to deliver the kind of snarky jokes his fans might expect. But then, the plot probes deeper, giving him the chance to earnestly portray vulnerability, worry, adoration, and desperation. This is not a vanity project, as Peter is a bit of a clown.
Beyond him, casting director Carmen Cuba has selected a superb array of supporting players to build out Peter's chosen family. Delevingne, who has her own reputation as an eccentric socialite, strides smoothly into the role of a party monster. Howell-Baptiste is a one-woman show as the human tornado that is Edison, beaming and enchanting while delivering darkly hilarious dialogue. Risin9 is a standout in the party posse, radiant, warm, and mischievous, like that cool cousin we all aspired to be. Isgandarov is terrific as Nicky, swiftly capturing a familiar queer archetype, then plunging in with jubilant spontaneity. He's perfectly paired with Colleen Camp (Clue), who plays Peter's downstairs neighbor Evelyn, a kind of chosen godmother who has money, scads of style, and a big heart exploding with tough love.
And then there's Arlo. Absolom, who some might recognize from The Other Bennet Sister, is simply terrific. He offers a open stare that comes off not as naive but knowing. And in that, there's a bit of tragedy. But this child is fueled by hope, hope that tomorrow will be better than the yesterday he's seen. He hopes Peter can be his real dad. He hopes he can weave himself into the club scene, in part because he has a true love of it from his mom's influence, and in part — it seems — so he can ingratiate himself to his newly revealed father. In moments of tension, you see this façade of maturity crack as Absolom and Firstman make sure the audience sees past the precociousness to the simple truth: He's just a kid. He needs a security that he's never known. And the film grows slower and more meditative as Peter grapples with what that means.
In the end, Club Kid gives an ending that is happy and earned. Firstman doesn't abandon the path in favor of a Hollywood ending that will have audiences cheering. Instead, he delivers something more realistic, but still hopeful and aspirational. It's a happy ending the way New York City understand them, and that's a hard-won gift.
Club Kid was reviewed out of the New York Film Festival. It opens in theaters on Nov. 6.
