Brooklyn, 2016. Peter (Jordan Firstman) and his friends are heading to the club, debating the year's best album—Beyoncé's Lemonade or Frank Ocean's Blonde—while their real priority is drugs. Peter is a fixture on New York's gay party scene, launching events with his business partner Sophie (Cara Delevingne). His job is to keep the good times rolling, which means ensuring the drugs flow freely. If he indulges along the way, even better.
Despite having "never touched a vagina in his life," a night of LSD-fueled passion leads to a threesome with Leonora (Paris Petitjean), a British tourist. Fast forward a decade, and Peter is still partying, still selling drugs, and still avoiding responsibility. Sophie is fed up, and his roommate Nicky (Eldar Isgandarov), an "aspiring queer philosopher" from Azerbaijan, is a constant source of irritation.
On the day Sophie fires him for being "literally a fucking child," a knock at the door changes everything. Edison (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) arrives with Arlo (Reggie Absolom), Peter's 9-year-old biological son from that long-ago encounter. Leonora has died by suicide, and Arlo's stepfather is abusive. Edison, a fast-talking Brit, needs a quick coke hit to calm her nerves, assures Peter she'll be back to pick up Arlo, and then promptly disappears back to London.
A familiar story, told with heart
Firstman's feature debut is a triple threat—he writes, directs, and stars—and he tackles a well-worn narrative: the manchild forced to grow up when faced with sudden parenthood. From Chaplin's The Kid to Mike Mills' C'mon C'mon, the trope is hardly new. But Club Kid compensates with an intoxicating atmosphere and genuine affection for its characters.
The film excels in its portrayal of New York's queer nightlife, capturing both the euphoria and the inevitable comedown. Firstman's empathy for the community is evident, and he makes the party scene feel vibrant yet bittersweet. As Peter tells Arlo in a poignant moment: "I basically don't have any self-esteem."
The heart of the film is the bond between Peter and Arlo. Firstman underplays the torment of letting go of a treasured part of yourself, and his efforts are rewarded by Absolom, a first-time actor who is a revelation. Playing Arlo as a believably precarious scamp with a love for Cocteau Twins and DJing, Absolom hints at nascent trauma behind his angelic features with impressive naturalism.
The pair's dynamic is bolstered by Firstman's script, which balances dry humor with warmth. Whether it's acerbic zingers or an inappropriate "I Heart Björk And Barebacking" t-shirt, the laughs never overpower the sweetness. However, Nicky's volatile roommate antics cartoonishly clash with the overall tone, and some sentimental moments are threatened by plot shortcuts that undermine realism.
While Club Kid falls short of tearjerker status—unlike Charlotte Wells' Aftersun—it avoids cheap melodrama and ends on an honest note. The predictable third-act developments may be a flaw, but the film's heart is always in the right place.
This sincere tale of self-discovery and loving queer familial dynamics is a promising debut from Firstman, conveying that it's never too late to find a new trajectory in life. And it's never too early to introduce the wee urchins in your life to Cocteau Twins and Björk—though the definition and pitfalls of barebacking will have to wait.
