Our Parents Used to be Us

'My Dead Dad' took people on a journey of self-realization. It also probably made us reach out to our dads with a cryptic message like, "you know I love you, right?" This drama explored narrative and experimental arcs that challenged the relationships with those closest to us. Directed by Fabio Frey, and collaboratively written by Pedro Correa— the male lead of the film. Together, they discovered new ways to demonstrate our unavoidable person-to-self conflicts, world-renowned daddy issues, and fight or flight instincts that break us down when we're close to being vulnerable. You can't fail to include the discourse of hegemonic masculinity and racial ambiguity that was also present.

The beauty of film has always seemed to be about drawn-out moments of dialogue. Yet, Correa steers this feature in the opposite direction. The style of the film impacted the narrative because with shorter lines, a simplified scoring, and quaint smash cuts, there was no room for aestheticism. The audience had no choice but to focus directly on the plot, which without realizing it, made them focus on how the film mirrors their lives. 'My Dead Dad' emphasized the dialogue we were allowed to hear. It reminded us of clever filmmaking, as whichever scenes were chosen were included because they assertively drove the story. From, the introduction that narrowed in on skate parts and jump cuts between past and present— without many words, we understand our protagonist, Lucas.

And, with an exclusive interview with Pedro Correa for office, we'll get to know him too, delving deep into filmmaking and everything else in between. Speaking with Correa made me a little nervous, but the more our conversation delved deep into the film, the Safdie Brothers, and how "Terminator" isn't usually a movie to get you crying in the club, in reality, we were just two film nerds geeking out.

So, how long was the process of filming?

So filming, I guess, like— from start to finish with making the movie, it was just a little below three years, from like actually writing to being finished-finished with the movie. Actually shooting, it's kind of complicated, because we're— my creative partner, Fabio and I are really, actually indie, I suppose, like, we thought all of like the A24 movies were made indie like we did. And then once we started learning more about like filmmaking, we're like, "oh, they had like a huge budget," and all the time in the world. So, we tried to like take little pieces of traditional filmmaking and indie filmmaking. So we did like 14 days of like actually having a crew. And our crew was small, it was less than 14 people most days. And then after that, we had allotted a certain period of time to where it was just myself, or like, camera operator, audio guy, and, like Fabio and myself, and that was pretty much it. So that I want to say, like, 24 days, but depends on your perspective.

What was it like, filming between the experimental footage, versus narrative?

Yeah, it was interesting. I mean, it's kind of freeing in a weird way, because the VHS, and the mini DV recording that we did, obviously, you don't need a video camera for it so it was very cool. Just to be like, "ah, like, this is all we need, we just need a couple actors." And we can kind of whip around and the lighting can be, like, bad too. And it doesn't matter. Because it kind of adds the genuine quality of it. But actually some all the mini DV stuff and the movie, we had filmed— mostly like the skating sequences in the opening, the VHS stuff— half of it, we filmed with our actors. And then the other half actually came from my childhood. And it was kind of interesting, because once we started writing the movie, that idea just got bigger and bigger, where we have little flashbacks. But my grandmother actually had sent me a DVD of like, burned VHS tapes from my childhood, and while we were writing it, I popped it into my computer. And I was just like, crying for no reason. Like, there's something about VHS or I'll just like, Oh my god. So we use as much as we could, but just need to do a little extra to make it make sense in the movie.

That's super cool, though! As my favorite scene happened to be when Lucas is dreaming, I think like midway, and he's like running for his dad and then it kind of, like, transitions into VHS tapes. Pinpointing me to my next question, what are your some of your favorite scenes writing versus filming?

Let's see, writing versus filming. Writing for sure was the end monologue that you had mentioned with the dad. It's so funny. I feel like some of the lesser consequential movie or scenes in the movie took forever to write and we did a million passes on it. But that sequence for example, I had sat down and maybe got it done in like 15-20 minutes of just one sitting. And then of course, we like whittled some of it down in editing a little bit. That was definitely the most, l guess gratifying, or most like— it finally clicked in my head what this movie was really about once that scene had been written.

Is there a crazy story from filming that you can like reveal for us? Something really spontaneous or crazy that happened throughout?

Yeah, yeah, I'm, I'm, I'm waiting to get in trouble for this. So, one of a few of the moments in the first sequence are with Chris Pontius, Booboo, myself and a few other pro skaters and, a lot of the times in skate films, like you know, that professional skate brands will put out there. They're like hopping fences and skating things you shouldn't. And it's one of those things. We just hopped a fence of a school when it was summertime and just started skating. And like, it was just very it was very fun for like a teenager again. And I'm glad we didn't get arrested or anything but it was just hilarious to because we had Chris Pontius from Jackass which— he was totally down. But then Booboo Stewart, you know, who in the beginning of his career is known for a lot of like Disney work and things like that. So it was just, it was so cool to see those worlds meet and all just do something kind of mysterious.

I think what was probably one of the best parts of the film is how genuine casting was, because so many people were coming from different like, arcs and then being brought in and colliding. And hearing like Booboo Stewart curse was probably really super surreal after seeing him in 'Descendants.' What was it like having to like put faces and actors to the characters that you created?

It was really cool. I think the casting process is for sure my favorite moment in filmmaking because some of the roles we had written like Chris, Pontius his character, for example, Cosmo in the movie, he was our first pick, we wrote that role for him. And then we told ourselves, "that's never going to happen," and he's not going to do it. And then we offered it to him. And he was like, "Yeah, sure." And we're like, what? And so that that was really cool. But then also other roles, the role of Kieffer that was played by booboo, for example was based on a childhood friend of mine who actually, we were going to actually cast him in the role, but unfortunately, in real life, he ended up passing away. So, it really put a lot more weight on the movie in that role, because we hadn't actually even finished writing the movie at that point. And when I found that out, I totally had to kind of rethink everything. And I'm glad we got to kind of show a little bit of his spirit in the movie, but it was interesting, because it made us totally reinterpret what we're trying to portray in this person in this movie.

So,the casting process is really wild. Because also, once you start giving these scenes to people, these actors just give you a completely different world that you've never even imagined and Booboo was a good example of that, where he had just brought this lightness and this like bubbly energy to the role, and that had that just made it so so beautiful. And then of course, our first coffee meeting, he was just like, "I want a face tat." So, he was he was all game.

So, now that you mentioned about your childhood friend for the film, how much of it was based off of actual events and how much was fictional?

Yeah, so part of the idea of the movie stemmed from when I was about 14, I hadn't heard from my dad in a really long time. My parents had gotten a divorce. I was living in one part of the world and he was living in another part of the world. And one day I got a call from out of the blue. And he called, he was just like, "hey, I'm, I'm dying." And I was like, "what?" I'm flipping out that I even heard his voice, let alone that he was telling me his life was ending. He had lung cancer, and he said he had a month left to live, and that he had an apartment in Peru. Peruvian, I don't look like it, but he was living in Peru at the time. And I had no idea that even existed. So he was like, "you're gonna be the landlord of it. At 14, your name is going to be on it. I don't want anyone else's name on it. So good luck," and then hung up. And I was in shock. I literally went through a month of my life just kind of grieving before it even happened, I suppose. But luckily, in real life. My dad actually survived this lung cancer, he got his lung removed. And apparently you can survive like that. I don't even know that was possible. He's got one lung and still smokes a bunch of weed, he's a badass. But anyways, the movie was inspired by that about the what if if that kept going that that direction. So other than my dad being dead, a lot of the movie is is real people that have been in my life, or that I live next to in LA, including Shula Antoine, who is the older Chinese woman in the movie. A lot of her scenes were just stories she would tell me. And she just would tell me about how she almost got a fistfight at 711 with some crazy guy, and she had bedbugs, and all this crazy stuff. And I was just writing it. And eventually she read it and she's like, "Oh, my gosh, I this happened to me." and I'm like, "no, no, this is you." So, a lot of real life was mixed in but there's there's probably about like, 35% of it that that was fictional.

Telling a story about a protagonist that is like biracial, and comes off racially ambiguous, what is that like to have that contrast from your actual personal experience versus Lucas's?

I never kind of I never thought twice about it. I lived a lot of my life in Peru. My Spanish is like, okay, but pretty shitty at best. So I I survived how I needed to in Peru, but when I came to the United States, and I moved to LA at like, I think it was 17. I noticed a lot of the time. I mean, obviously, my name is Pedro and people's first question is "do you just speak Spanish?" I noticed how it was a weird duality where it's like, I got discounted for not being a Peruvian, which is just strange to me. I mean, I didn't ever really think about it. But this movie was kind of a good opportunity to delve into that. You have this guy who's a fish out of water. He's from Reno, Nevada, and then he moves to LA, but his dad is Peruvian, like mine is. And he just doesn't really feel like he has a place in the world, generally, in his life, and in his culture and in his world and where he lives. So that was definitely a personal feeling that that I wanted to express. There's a lot of people who feel that way. And it's been cool to see the response to the movie too, because there's a lot of a lot of Latinx people who have reached out and been like, "I totally feel this way. Like I don't speak Spanish at all, you know, my my mom and dad are like, you know, Hispanics, and I feel kind of almost left out in a weird way," so it's been cool to see that connect with other people because I thought I was the only one who felt that way.

You, I don't think you use that many songs. So, what was the process behind that kind of scoring?

Yeah, I think it's probably just came from a strange mix between loving old movies, old long movies, like, you know, the Godfather, and also being like, the rapid nature of now. It's like, we didn't want to force you to feel something. Musics amazing too, and can be a great accent on to things. So there was a lot of talks with our composer, David Saunders and us of being like, how do we like add just like an accent of music that really like brings it to the next level here without just you know, waterboarding, the audience with it. And it just kind of became part of the style because we didn't, we didn't really know how to overwhelm the audience in that way. I mean, I'm a huge fan of a lot of the safty Brothers movies, and they certainly, like go hard. And it's just interesting finding your own style, because that was my first reaction. I was like, oh, you know, we'll do something like that. And then it just didn't feel right. Really, you know, the quieter moments. felt special, I think in this movie. And also during the writing and the creation of the movie. A lot of the quieter moments inspired it too because we'd be writing and in my apartment at the time in Hollywood and and you know, there'd be like Pitbull blaring like under the floorboards from a neighbor or like you know, someone arguing through the drywall you know? And that's life and that's the apartment so you kind of want to like hear it sometimes in a weird way. So that's where that kind of decision came from.

No, for sure because I think you didn't need all of this overwhelming like "sad people music." I think the plot drove the story which unironically is supposed to be the wya films work. The plot is supposed to be the hero of the film. I have a fun question. Now, that you mentioned 'The Godfather' and The Safdie Brothers, what is a film in general that you wish you wrote?

Let's see, all movies that aren't like in English pretty much. Like, 'Old Boy' and like, 'City of God.' Some English films I guess would probably be like 'Ladybird.' I haven't. I have a kind of odd eclectic list of movies. 'Cause it's obviously very different from city garden. Oh, boy, but Ladybird's really cool. I think that movie is structurally interesting. It's not structurally obvious, either. Like, I've broken down the movie a couple of times of when the beat changes happen and, I still argue about it with my girlfriend. And I just realized it's a really nuanced film. It's a good movie to look to, for kind of genre or genre blending piece. That's not so clearly a drama, not so clearly a comedy. And it's just kind of a slice of life without being super artsy fartsy.

I don't think I expected that. Most people probably choose like the 'Taxi Driver' or something to sound cool. Like, that's where your mind went? Okay, question. So, at the end, where Lucas does the trick on the ramp? Was that actually you? That feels disrespectful to ask but I'm curious.

No, no worries, no worries, everyone. Everyone does. Everyone does. So 99% of the skateboard is. So this moment in the movie, and there's a reason behind this, I actually did the jump into the river, like the ramp into the river. But the small trick into the river was done by a very talented skateboarder named Nolan Misko. And the reason is because I was actually training for this stunt that we had written into the movie, before we had made the movie. And I broke both my arms at the same time. It was like five bones total. I survived, luckily, through the help of my lovely mother, who flew in and was an angel and became my embarrassing caretaker for eight weeks of my life. But the whole team knew about this and was like, we have a week and a half left to shooting you're not doing so I was like, okay, all right. Sounds good. Damn.

I had to like squint, as I really wasn't sure. Here's an inspirational question. If there is one thing that audiences should take from this film, what should it be?

Man, I think, for people to have an opportunity to look at themselves and realize whether they want to be a parent or not one day, to realize that all parents were you one day, at some point. That, to have compassion for where people came from, and to understand the obstacles that it takes to create another human being. To appreciate how difficult that can be. And to hopefully learn from that for yourself. It's hard being a parent, I'm sure, like, I'm not one yet. But man, I don't know, I saw what my mom and dad went through and, the little shit that I was. To give a break to some parents, you know, and if you do have a father figure or a mother figure, whether they're literally your parent or not, just to give them a call and kind of, you know, try to learn from their mistakes.

Less is more. ‘My Dead Dad’ focused on the little things that enrapture a film. A quiet storm of scoring and unique characters draw you near, and you become attached without even knowing. As we follow Lucas, his new landlord position, skating in the parking lot past times, subdued early midlife crisis, and puzzled feelings about his father, this is enough to remind us about our lives.

Pedro Correa confirms his seat at the table of actors to watch. His presence is a refreshing contrast to the roundabout of regular A-listers present. The actor's story is brilliant, both on and off the screen. If I were to get another bowl of Cookie Crisps, I'd spend the wee hours of the morning watching it again. Unfortunately, I am currently out of Cookie Crisps. So, I will do something different. I'll be here, encouraging you to get your hearts broken and fixed with 'My Dead Dad.' Streaming on HBO Max now.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.