STREAMING
Somebody Somewhere Binge 5 stars
Emilia Pérez Netflix 3 stars
If you haven’t yet embarked on the journey that is Somebody Somewhere then now is the perfect time to dive in. With its third and final season, this understated gem of a series solidifies its place as one of television’s most poignant and relatable offerings. The show quietly envelops you in its warmth, honesty and pathos, creating a tapestry of moments that feel deeply human. At times funny, at others achingly sad or tenderly reflective, it always remains grounded in the unvarnished realness of its characters. At its core, this is a story about ordinary people navigating life’s relentless challenges: grief, family dysfunction, friendships and the quiet battles of self-worth.
At the heart of the series is Sam, portrayed brilliantly by Bridget Everett. Sam is a 40-something woman adrift in her Kansas hometown after returning to care for her sister Holly, who succumbed to illness before the events of season one. Holly was not only Sam’s sister but her anchor—the one person who truly understood her. Her loss leaves Sam untethered, struggling to find meaning while working a dead-end job, skirmishing with her more uptight sister and grappling with an alcoholic mother and emotionally withdrawn father. Sam’s loneliness and sense of purposelessness then take a turn when she reconnects with Joel, a former schoolmate who once idolised her.
Played with tender charm by Jeff Hiller, Joel recognises something special in Sam. He is a gay man with a flair for finding beauty in the overlooked and brings Sam into his circle of friends. This eclectic group of queer and outsider individuals soon becomes her community and for the first time in years, Sam begins to feel like she belongs.
The first two seasons chronicle Sam and Joel’s evolving friendship, the small triumphs and setbacks of their daily lives and their shared determination to carve out joy amidst life’s trials. The third and final season beautifully ties together these character arcs, delivering a poignant and deeply satisfying conclusion. Early on, Sam tells Joel she’s never been in love, quipping that she’d rather “sit around judging people who choose love and lose”. Yet we—and Joel—understand that her cynicism masks a deeper truth; Sam doesn’t believe she’s worthy of love. Without spoiling too much, this thread of unworthiness is resolved in season three in a way that is both heartbreaking and heartwarming, encapsulating the show’s knack for authentic emotional payoff.
While Everett’s performance anchors the series, Somebody Somewhere is equally buoyed by its depiction of the profound friendship between Sam and Joel. Their dynamic is a dance between her wounded skepticism and his irrepressible optimism, set against a Republican-state backdrop where middle-aged queer folks like Joel and outsiders like Sam have carved out their own safe spaces.
Season three isn’t just a conclusion: it’s a celebration of connection, resilience and self-discovery and a testament to the beauty of life’s quieter, often-overlooked moments.
Emilia Pérez is a film that leaves me deeply conflicted. On the one hand, I’m glad it exists and has sparked meaningful conversations, earning both critical recognition and a place in the cultural zeitgeist. On the other, I can’t help but feel uneasy about its cliched and at times retrograde portrayal of trans women. The film struggles to find its identity—teetering between musical, melodrama and gangster film—while its approach to its protagonist’s transition feels reductive and problematic.
The heart of the story centres on Emilia Pérez, whose transition is framed less as a journey of self-discovery and more as an act of manipulation. Her decision is presented as duplicitous, a disguise to evade the authorities while continuing her selfish attempts to control the lives of those she abandoned. Rather than embracing the complexity and humanity of a trans narrative, the film leans into a portrayal of transition as a selfish and destructive act. Emilia’s choices not only lead to her own downfall but also devastate the people she claims to love, reinforcing harmful stereotypes of trans individuals as deceptive or burdensome.
The portrayal becomes even more troubling through its persistent use of misgendering and deadnaming. Throughout the film, Emilia is subjected to these indignities repeatedly with little narrative pushback. Perhaps most perplexing is Emilia herself referring to her body as “half he, half she”— a moment that undermines her identity in a way that feels jarring.
While the film certainly attempts to tackle bold themes, its execution often feels clumsy, leaving viewers to wonder if it truly understands the story it’s trying to tell. By framing Emilia’s transition as an act of subterfuge rather than a deeply personal journey, the film misses an opportunity to present a nuanced and empathetic depiction of trans experiences. Instead, it risks perpetuating tropes under the guise of artistic complexity.
Emilia Pérez may have earned accolades and sparked debate but its uneven tone and regressive characterisations leave much to be desired. It’s a reminder that representation in film is only meaningful when handled with care and authenticity.
CRITIC’S CHOICE
Queer in cinemas 4 1/2 stars
Daniel Craig delivers a career-defining performance as William Lee in this adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical novel, Queer. Far removed from his iconic turn as James Bond, Craig inhabits the role of Lee, a middle-aged writer unraveling in Mexico City with mesmerising vulnerability. The film explores themes of love, heartbreak, addiction, aging and the inexorable passage of time, capturing the raw emotional landscape of a man at odds with himself.
William ‘Bill’ Lee is a man in freefall—spending his days in seedy bars, numbing his pain with heroin and cheap liquor and pursuing younger men in a haze of longing and self-destruction.
The story takes a sharp turn when Lee becomes infatuated with Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a young American whose arrogance, beauty and youthful indifference ignite a storm of passion and heartbreak in Lee. Craig’s portrayal of Lee is profoundly tender, capturing the ache of unrequited love and the devastating realisation of youth’s fleeting nature. Through Lee’s longing for Eugene, Craig lays bare the complex duality of desire: the yearning to possess another and the desperate wish to reclaim one’s own lost vitality.
The universal pain of unreciprocated love is portrayed beautifully and Craig’s nuanced performance shines in every glance, every moment of awkward vulnerability. Eugene, with all the carelessness and allure of youth, becomes both muse and tormentor and Lee is left to grapple with the emotional wreckage of his infatuation. The film doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable truths of aging, addiction and regret, painting a vivid portrait of a man consumed by longing yet haunted by the choices of his past. At the end, Lee is forced to confront the reality he’s been avoiding: he is an ageing queer man burdened by regret, lost love and unfulfilled dreams. Queer is as much a meditation on the human condition as it is a portrait of one man’s struggle with himself.
