Layla

Why I took it off the list:

Bilal Hasna. The star of excellent Amazon comedy series Dead Hot popped back onto my radar recently after his (criminally limited) appearance in Richard-Baby Reindeer-Gadd’s extremely uncomfortable drama series Half Man.

From his appearance in both these projects, this unapologetically queer young actor struck me as incredibly brave (not to mention adorable!). His wide-eyed expressions, gentle demeanor, and expert comedic timing make him an incredibly appealing screen presence.

In Half Man, he got to show a different side of himself in a queer role to Dead Hot‘s goofy Elliot. Particularly in a show-stopping, impassioned monologue about why he was no longer willing to hide his sexuality.

Aside from a supporting part in an episode of Black Mirror, I hadn’t seen any of his other screen roles or stage work. Including the well-received, semi-autobiographical play For a Palestinian (Hasna was born in London to a Palestinian father and a Pakistani Punjabi mother.)

The prospect of seeing Hasna bring a conflicted Arab drag queen to life in a comedy drama that would perhaps allow him to show even more sides to his considerable abilities was too tantalizing to pass up.

Review of Layla (2024)

It’s hard not to make comparisons between this film and Femme (2025), a far darker story of a British POC drag artist falling in ‘love’. Both films start in a chaotic dressing-room setting as the protagonists get into character and prepare to go out on stage for a show.

The very first shot of Femme sees Jules (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) lost in a mirror, confidently applying make-up. Later, he laughs and jokes with his friends as he pulls on his frock and prepares to slay.

However, in Layla, the titular character is nowhere to be seen in the chaotic first few frames, as the camera tracks other queens scrambling to put on their outfits.

Suddenly a hesitant voice calls out for assistance. It’s only then that we zoom in on Layla (who identifies as non-binary) sitting nervously at a vanity in the corner of the room. Alone.

With resignation, and with difficulty, they glue their fake eyelashes on by themself. They then spend a long time inspecting their (perfect) teeth in a compact, before turning away with a dismayed sigh.

Once they’re in full drag and about to hit the stage, their phone buzzes. The caller ID says ‘Sis’. Flustered, they hesitate for a moment, then throw their phone aside.

They turn to the mirror to take in their full look, turning this way and that. But the mirror is peppered with black stickers, obscuring a full view.

After the neon-colored title (aptly presented in both English and Arabic), we see Layla undress in their shabby, very La Vie Bohème apartment, the production designers nailing what glamorous poverty looks like! And they reject their flatmates’ calls to hang out, saying they’re too tired.

But, once out of outfit and laying on the bed, Layla almost immediately opens Grindr and starts swiping. They find a faceless body that they like, but see that the bio explicitly states ‘no fairies.’ A problem because they’re scrolling the app with bright yellow nail extensions still on.

They quickly flick them off onto the floor. Then they pause a moment and flex their fingers, as though shaking off any trace of unwanted femininity that might linger.

Smash cut to Layla in complete ecstasy as their buff hookup penetrates them, surrounded by a purple glow as dreamy music floats around. Then we see the face of the giver, he’s clearly not into it, and the ethereal music cuts out.

He pulls out, makes his excuses, throws on his pants, and leaves with an abrupt “See ya.” Layla is left confused and disappointed, then, with horror, spots the nail extensions on the floor.

Hasna Disappears into the Role

The next pivotal scene in the film shows Layla turn up in a (fabulous) extravagant get-up for a gig that promises to pay well. The problem is that it’s for a corporate fundraiser, in a sterile environment, for a company keen to promote themselves as inclusive during Pride Month.

But who are clearly just paying lip service by booking a drag queen, who they will tolerate as long as they “behave.” In close-up, Layla performs, lip-synching their heart out, to cheers and applause. But there’s that purple glow again.

Indeed, the volume of the music lowers, and we see the reverse shot: a load of corporate types barely paying attention. Luckily, Layla has some support from their group of equally done-up queer friends that have come along in support, including spunky BBF Princy (Brides star Safiyya Ingar in a surprise -I didn’t look up the rest of the cast in advance! – but welcome supporting turn.)

After posing for some self-congratulatory pictures with the suits, they realize the promised ‘big payment” is actually just a load of coupons for the product the firm is hawking (ready meals ironically named “Fork It!’). And Layla basically thinks ‘Fuck it’.

They begin gyrating on the stage, making the majority of the room uncomfortable. The event coordinator decides they’ve gone too far and tries to politely usher Layla off the stage.

But Layla isn’t done. They grab the mic and launch into a speech calling out their audience on their performative “Happy Pride, yaaay!” masks. Before demanding “Give me my meat!” and proceeding to pour one of the Fork It meals all over themselves.

In this sequence, and for that matter all the scenes of Layla performing, Hasna is a force of nature. It’s as though, as with Layla themselves, the make-up and outfits allow the actor to break free of anything that may have been holding him back.

Though most of the suits are horrified by this act of rebellion, one of them, Max (Louis Greatorex) finds Layla’s stunt charming and hilarious. And he happens to be the man to whom Layla was giving the eyes to earlier.

It turns out that, like most of the characters in this film, there’s more than meets the eye to Max. After Layla restyles him a little for the occasion, they take him to a “real party.” And so a sweet courtship begins.

The next morning, Layla, lugging a suitcase, tells their flatmate they’re off to perform at a drag brunch. But the next shot shows them at a train station, nervously waiting for a train, decked out in a Thawb.

It turns out that Layla is on their way to their sister Fatima’s wedding celebration, and in a novel twist, is hiding their ‘normal’ life from their queer family. Well, they’re also doing the reverse, as their blood relatives know nothing of Layla. To them, they are Latif, a good yet annoyingly still-single man who successfully works “in business” in the city.

Spurred onto dance by their family, Layla takes the floor and eventually really lets loose, something they see that Fatima has noticed. Embarassed, they flee outside. But she follows, and chides them for not answering her calls.

Layla’s apologetic. But when Fatima reveals she’s moving to London and they’ll be able to see each other more often, they panic and run off, terrified she’s going to discover their double life.

Funny Yet Full of Important Reminders

There are moments in Layla where it seems to be threatening to go darker. When, on their second date, Max invites Layla to go for a stroll down a lonely lane, I was convinced that it was a trap. That he was gonna show some self-hating true colors and attack them.

But no, this is not Femme, and the scene turns into a charming heart-to-heart where they get to know each other better and share a beautiful kiss. It seems that Layla might be finding the love they’re looking for.

However, the rest of the film is far from a series of meet-cutes. There are significant hang-ups for both Layla and Max to overcome, most notably their inability to merge two very separate parts of themselves.

That’s not to say that this is a serious drama, far from it. The film is primarily a comedy and does not take itself too seriously at all. Hasna brings his natural comedic presence to the role, and Ingar is a hoot as the sarcastic voice of reason. Their discussion about the logistics of filming The Human Centipede is hilarious.

You may think, from the structure the script is following, that the finale of Layla will be predictable, a typical ‘runs to the airport’ rom-com finale. But the film is self-aware and smart enough to know that life isn’t always like that.

The ending is more subdued than you might expect, and, in a commendable move, pivots on a scene involving Layla and their sister rather than the romantic interest. Though, of course, a drag performance factors in.

The key takeaway, which throbs through this wise film, is that old Shakespeare quote: “To thine own self be true”. An oldie, but a goodie, and one that, really, is key to a happy life and something we must always remember. Before all else.

But one that, sadly, far too many people forget.

Final score: 8/10