When Luke (Ben Hardy), a mechanic and single father, stumbles into an Asian nightclub after an encounter with a woman who only sees him as a one-night stand, he meets the beautiful Aysha, a performer in the club. Luke is mesmerized; Aysha (Jason Patel) seems to wink at him. The next thing we know, they’re outside kissing – their connection electric and palpable. What Luke doesn’t initially realize is that he’s looking at Ashiq’s queer drag queen persona. The confusion when he does leads him to run away.
But Aysha doesn’t let Luke off so easily. Having lost her driver as a result of the kiss with Luke, she can’t get to gigs. So she tracks Luke down where he works, and makes him a deal: he drives her to gigs, and Aysha gives him a cut of her earnings. Luke remains reluctant. He still has to deal with what happened between them, but Aysha persists. Luke is gradually pulled into Aysha’s circle, which includes her fellow drag queens going to the same gigs, and, eventually, to the realization that there’s an unmistakable connection between himself and Aysha.
What are the unicorns of the film’s title? The obvious answer lies in the fact that these days, the unicorn has become a symbol of LGBTQ culture because of depictions of unicorns associated with rainbows, a reference to the rainbow flag. But unicorns are also rare, mythical creatures, wild and difficult to capture, but also symbols of healing and grace.
We can see Aysha in this – not only with her identity as a drag queen (the surface level queer symbolism), but also in how she engages with Luke and his son, Jamie. One of the film’s most delightful moments is when Aysha meets Jamie for the first time, and Luke and Aysha take Jamie to a carnival. It’s another place where Aysha shines under colourful, glittery light – but this time, she is allowed to be playful, and it’s a moment where we see the troubled and trouble-making Jamie have a moment of joy.
And for Luke, who struggles to put words to the very mixed feelings he has, Aysha is a balm. When Luke runs away after realizing that Aysha is not the cis woman he thought she was, Aysha breezes back into his life, asking him to become her driver. Yes, there’s a negotiation that happens – and although Luke hesitates, he wants to take Jamie to Disneyland, and can’t afford it on his mechanic’s earnings. Aysha also gives Luke the time and space to figure out how he feels and who he really is – Aysha’s the rare creature that brings healing and grace into Luke’s life.
And Unicorns, the film is also a rare thing – a love story between a drag queen and a cis male mechanic that unfolds in unexpected ways. Yes, it touches on cultural expectations – what it means to be a cis male in working-class England; what it means to be a practicing Muslim as well as a drag queen. It explores the connections between us – between gay and straight (and the lines there that are blurred, like for those in the gaysian community who lead very different and conventional lives during the day). It asks us to think about what family is – whether it’s birth family, in the case of Ashiq, or found family, in the case of Aysha and her drag queen friends, or broken family, in the case of Luke, divorced and trying to look after his son.
The strength of the film clearly resides in its two leads, with Ben Hardy’s Luke and his constant internal struggle, and Jason Patel’s more complex role as gay, a drag queen and, as a Muslim still devoted to his family. Both actors give us fully realized characters, make us care about each of them, and make us care about their fragile love story. Each of them has questions about their identity, and the film gently navigates each of their journeys, how they slowly build a relationship, and how they equally balance their roles in their families. If I have any reservations about the film, I wish directors Sally El Hosaini and James Krishna Floyd (who was also the writer) could have tightened the story up somewhat, taking out a few elements that felt superfluous to me as a viewer. That said, their film is sensitive, funny, and ultimately charming.
In the end, family seems to be defined not by gender roles or societal expectations. It’s about who we love, and who we care for, and who we protect. Ashiq’s brother comes to warn him that people in Manchester are talking about him and to be careful. We know Aysha is getting threats. Ashiq’s relationship with his mother is so very tender and lovely – when Ashiq visits, he brings her eyeliner, and helps her put it on. When Ashiq returns home after being attacked, he spends time in bed with his mother watching Bollywood movies. And it’s Ashiq’s mother who makes the decision about letting Luke talk to Aysha/Ashiq. Does Ashiq’s family know about his identity as Aysha? The film seems to suggest they do, that it’s not something spoken about, and yet it doesn’t stop them from protecting their child. Perhaps this is the brightest unicorn moment of all, a rare depiction of an Asian Muslim family that goes beyond stereotypes. Unicorns, the film honours the unicorns in all of us, in our families, in our found families, and it tells us we are worthy of being our true selves, of loving and being loved, and that we are deserving of happiness and joy.
