By Sara Darling
Sophie Dupuis’s Solo is a film built around glitter and heartbreak. Set in Montréal’s drag scene, it’s equally a celebration of queer artistry – celebrated with the buzz of the dressing rooms, interconnecting relationships and the rush of performance. Coupled with a cautionary tale about how romance – when mixed with insecurity, can curdle into something poisonous.
Starring Simon (Théodore Pellerin) as a rising drag performer – becoming larger-than-life diva characters who command the stage with a magnetic presence; off stage, he is delicate, hesitant, a man constantly negotiating between persona and self – which makes the foreboding manipulation more painful to watch.
What distinguishes Solo from other dramas that use drag as a backdrop, is its insistence on portraying drag as community. Simon is not isolated; he is buoyed by a circle of drag sisters – fellow performers who cheer him on and provide the kind of solidarity queer subcultures. Also vital is the role of his sister, who designs his costumes, provides an even firmer tether to the real world.
This makes Simon’s vulnerability more poignant. Surrounded by support, he succumbs to the charisma of Olivier (Félix Maritaud), a newcomer to the scene whose beauty masks a sinister undercurrent. Bringing a dangerous charm that makes it plausible Simon would fall under his spell, he never tips into cartoonish villainy. His toxicity is all the more chilling for being so recognisable.
At first, Simon and Olivier’s romance seems like a match made in heaven. Their connection is immediately electric. Olivier pushes Simon to take creative risks – their sexual and artistic energies feeding off one another, but the film doesn’t rush this courtship – it focuses on the intoxication, making it easy to see why Simon is swept away.
But gradually the line between inspiration and control begins to blur. Olivier’s encouragement becomes conditional. What once felt like partnership shifts into competition. Love is doled out like a prize for compliance, while criticism is dressed up as honesty. Praise is weaponised. Simon, once radiant in his own right, begins to doubt his instincts, his worth, even his place in the spotlight.
This is gaslighting rendered with nuance – Olivier is not a pantomime villain, but a dangerously believable charmer. His control comes through in subtle digs, manipulative reassurances, the constant shifting of boundaries. For the audience, the toxicity is clear. For Simon, blinkered by passion, it is much harder to see.
Simon also has to deal with the sudden reappearance of his mother, a celebrated opera singer who has been largely absent from his life. Her return adds another layer of emotional turbulence. Like Olivier, she exerts a gravitational pull, offering affection laced with judgment, reminding Simon of expectations and legacy.
In these moments, Solo highlights how patterns of dependence and control repeat themselves across relationships. Simon is caught between the love he craves, the family ties that haunt him, and the freedom he desperately seeks. His sister, ever loyal, provides the clearest voice of reason – she sees Olivier for what he is long before Simon can admit it. But family, chosen or biological, cannot shield him from every wound.
This film glitters, dazzles, but it also stings. It is a reminder that toxic love is not confined to heterosexual dynamics, that gaslighting can creep into even the most passionate of relationships, and that courage often means learning to stand alone, under the lights, in your own skin.
Watch Solo in cinemas from 19th September