Directed by Sophie Dupuis, Solo (2024) is a tender, vibrant, and emotionally bruising exploration of queer love, self-expression, and the search for identity in a world full of noise. Set in Montreal’s drag scene, the film beautifully blends personal vulnerability with dazzling performance, giving us a portrait of a young man navigating love, heartbreak, and his evolving sense of self.
The story follows Simon (played by Théodore Pellerin, in a career-defining performance), a gifted drag performer who pours all his emotional energy into his art and his turbulent relationships. Off-stage, Simon is sensitive and deeply yearning—for love, for stability, and for connection. On stage, he becomes his drag persona, Gloria, bold, expressive, and fearless.
Simon’s life is upended when he meets Olivier, a charismatic new arrival to the drag community. Their chemistry is immediate and intense—but their relationship soon reveals deeper cracks. Olivier’s unpredictability, emotional distance, and manipulative streak begin to consume Simon’s world. As Simon becomes more entangled in the toxic romance, his friendships, career, and emotional stability begin to unravel.
At the same time, Simon is forced to confront the return of his estranged mother, Claire, played with quiet gravity by Anne-Marie Cadieux. Their dynamic adds another layer to the film’s central question: How do we love someone who can’t—or won’t—love us back the way we need?
Visually, Solo is radiant. Sophie Dupuis paints the film in glitter and neon, contrasting the electric world of drag with Simon’s raw, off-stage fragility. The performances, both in and out of drag, are visceral and unflinching. The film doesn’t shy away from showing the emotional labor queer people often put into relationships where their love is not reciprocated equally.
The soundtrack, fashion, and drag performances are exhilarating, but Solo’s true power lies in its emotional intimacy. It captures the paradox of queer life: the need to create armor through art while secretly craving emotional nakedness.
In a speculative sequel, Solo: Encore, we meet Simon five years later—more seasoned, more self-aware, and working as a mentor to young drag performers in Montreal. His life is calmer, but not without scars.
When a shy, newly out teen named Marc joins the scene, Simon sees echoes of his younger self. As he helps Marc find his voice (and stage name), Simon is forced to confront the ghosts of his past—especially when Olivier unexpectedly returns, now claiming to be sober, changed, and ready to make amends.
But Encore wouldn’t be a story about rekindled romance. Instead, it would focus on healing, setting boundaries, and embracing found family. Simon’s arc would evolve from one of seeking love to offering it—to others, and to himself.
Solo is a gem in queer cinema—a film that understands the beauty and danger of vulnerability. It's a love letter to drag, but also to the complicated, messy act of learning to love without losing yourself. With Solo, Sophie Dupuis and Théodore Pellerin have given us a character—and a performance—that lingers long after the spotlight fades.
