Come one, come all to Marco Nguyen and Nicolas Athene’s messy yet wholesomely horny ode to gay culture
Gym queen Jim Perfect has it all: thousands of Insta followers, abs for weeks, and the top go-go podium at PowerBoyz, Paris’s hottest gay nightclub. Then a vanishing ab leads to a sudden diagnosis: Heterosis, a new virus sweeping the queer community that renders its victims tragically straight. As symptoms set in–socks-sandals combos, beer bellies, a sudden grasp of offsides and other football rules–Jim’s social media stardom crumbles. But when a possible cure surfaces, Jim must team up with his biggest fan: Lucien, a rich, closeted twink who longs for a gay community but answers to his overbearing Health Minister mother. Together, they tour the cliquish wilds of gay life in search of a cure before their community fades out like the last club beat of the night. But can Jim overcome his surface-level obsessions and learn to care about something (or someone) deeper?
The answer is “bien sûr, naturellement,” but Marco Nguyen and Nicolas Athene’s riotously raunchy film is, like the wildest party nights, all about the eye-and-hole-opening journey, not the destination. Jim Queen has the tender heart of a Disney classic and the raging libido of that one unmentionable weekend in Puerto Vallarta. As Nguyen and Athene blaze through cackle-worthy, horny-as-hell jokes, they champion queer solidarity in the face of heteronormative oppression and the self-actualizing superpower of embracing whatever floats your kinky boat.
It’s all brought to life by Jim Queen’s beautifully simple, wacky animation, inspired by everything from The Little Mermaid to Rick and Morty and Dragon Ball Z. Devilishly clever musical numbers set amid wonderfully lurid backgrounds are also deftly (w)holesome. Lucien’s opening number is a particular standout, a “Part of Your World” parody set in his sex-toy-laden secret closet, where thingamabobs and dinglehoppers give way to slings, plugs, and a suitcase of fleshlights. Nguyen and Athene’s unwavering commitment to their film’s poppered-up blend of the silly, sexy, and sincere lets Jim Queen carve out an unapologetically gay space in the international animated-feature canon, celebrating its influences while righteously claiming a place beside them.
Also top of mind is how Jim Queen filthily reads the allegedly self-isolating subcultures of the gay community at a rapid-fire pace, skewering its subjects with passionate adoration. No corner of gay life is safe: the near-supernatural knack for clocking who’s into what, how “types” can turn individuals into indistinguishable clones, the mystical pull of sneaker-scent obsession, and more. Sight gags abound for anyone deeply versed in queer lore (or, at the very least, with an extensive browser history)–of note, famed gay porn star François Sagat voices Jim’s roided-out rival Pavel. Meanwhile, enough vanilla, straight-friendly jokes keep the film accessible to an international, identity-diverse audience. Everyone takes their licks, but Jim Queen’s savagery never sears, and the film defiantly refuses to damn any particular realm of debauchery. Its galvanizingly horny, heartfelt humor never punches down, a major strength for a film whose character arcs hinge on the self-awareness of a rich twink discovering the power of his queer identity (and his prostate) and a gym-sculpted himbo learning the literal meaning of kindness.
The film’s self-awareness extends to Jim Queen’s more sobering sections, which recognize the double-edged sword of community and conformity. There’s plenty of fun to poke at bear-eoke nights, drag show warpaint, and low-key yet standardized steroid usage, but the film also spotlights how these safe spaces can easily become battlefields of identity qualification. Like go-go dancers clamoring for the top of the platform, members of the queer community are locked in an exhausting fight to hold tenuous places in their chosen tribes, even as everyone faces the same threat of rejection from wider society. When the rainbow meets the road, everyone can (and needs to) punch back at the homogenizing forces of heteronormativity in their own way–bears, twinks, chem heads, drag stars, and gym queens alike.
I can’t help but see it as a missed opportunity, though, that the film doesn’t cast an even wider net. When Lucien gets a primer on gay subcultures from drag mother Glamydia (ten comedy points there), there are brief remarks about how popular clubs like PowerBoyz, and the community at large, often shut out the rest of the alphabet, save for the omnipresent “G.” As a Bi/Pan masc-identifying viewer, I know this divide is real, and it deserves the deeper conversation the film gives other subjects. For example, even if PowerBoyz is a “masc” club, I can’t imagine it would turn away masc-identifying folks of all kinds–and hell, think of all the “indecisive Bi” jokes the film could make. We love puns! Yet Jim Queen only hints at bridging the identity gap in a passing shot in the climactic battle against the straights, where a character waves the non-binary flag in defiant protest.
For a film that lets the gay community’s many members shine in its Wizard of Oz-esque search for truth, holds space for allyship (via Jim’s straight, straight-shooting doctor bestie Nina), and celebrates our individual kinky strengths in the name of queer solidarity, one would hope more identities and orientations would get a moment in the bawdy spotlight. There’s always room on top of the podium of representation, and Jim Queen feels like the last film to perpetuate the exclusion it rallies against. In a movie so boundary-pushing and open-minded, this is where its radical self-awareness seems to reach its limits, especially when far tamer, family-friendly queer animation like Dead End: Paranormal Park and Steven Universe have made greater strides in representation.
Still, I’m bowled over by Jim Queen’s unhinged celebration of queer joy in all its forms. I love that it makes any butt the butt of the joke without wholly yucking anyone’s yum, recognizing that what and who gets us off matters as much as anything in bringing us closer together–and that what’s in our pants isn’t the only part of us capable of growth.
Jim Queen had its US Premiere at Fantastic Fest 2026, where it currently seeks domestic distribution. While screened in its original French, an English dub is also in the works featuring actors Jordan Firstman, John Cameron Mitchell, Nicole Byer, Matteo Lane, Bob the Drag Queen, and Wendie Malick.
