Like many times revisited American cinema, the "scam movie" is forced to welcome recently a persistent subset: the female scam movie, burglars in series ofOcean's 8 to Molly Bloom and his clandestine poker clubs in the Great Game, whose Queens here comes a version of "flaming cagoles" with the adaptation, once again, of a real news item.
Towards the end of the 2000s, a group of strippers developed, under the leadership of a gleaming doyenne leader named Ramona, a strategy oiled wonderfully to extract as much money as possible from customers (mostly Wall traders). Street) during the famous private dances practiced in the clubs. A golden age that shattered with the financial collapse of 2008, the "constraining" then to radicalize their method by drugging their prey with a homemade ketamine-MDMA cocktail to better off their banking codes.
Extended over several years, Lorene Scafaria's film does not make it secret to want to weave together the fate of her heroines to the state of the American economy. A bit too ambitious probably, even if the pre-2008 euphoria and the dark turn that follows are not so badly shown. It is quite pleasing to see these girls of all colors and all ethnicities (let us mention the rappers Cardi B or Lizzo in small roles) to rob the white American male came to ogle them. At the height of their win, to see them pay their luxury bags in dollar bills under the astonished glance of the saleswomen makes its small subversive effect. Queens is a kind of Magic Mike Feminine, but more devious: where the good boys of Soderbergh rounded their end of the month with the striptease, the queens of the pole dance go far enough in the blasting of the established order. "We must think like these guys, they looted the country," Ramona explains.
So, even though it's probably missing here from these amazons of the French Manicure and Brazilian smoothing the brilliance, the swing and the social acuity of a Soderbergh to follow them at the end of their logic and their loss, Queens rather the job, helped it must be admitted by the slaughter of a Jennifer Lopez in full possession of his means, diva of the newspaper that reigns in hot mamma dream of all this small world, taking its role in arms and standing out of the dramaturgy of the usual "J-Lo movie" (the little girl of the Bronx that climbs the social ladder) by embracing here a form of collective. Wolf as tender as dangerous for his flock, woman-show bigger than life and ambivalent, venal and protective, we must see her taming the pole bar by snapping her platform shoes to be transported by his showmanship at all costs.
She seems to like to be catapulted in a recent but already nostalgic past, where she welcomes Usher with a fanfare in the strip box, is stopped in velvet strass velvet Juicy Couture, or screams with joy when "It's Britney bitch," the first words of the single Gimme More Britney Spears, sound in the car: "That's my fucking song!" she said while raising the sound … Very difficult, at this stage, to resist this pop and flashy capsule for us, poor sentimental and orphans of the 2000s.
Queens of Lorene Scafaria with Constance Wu, Jennifer Lopez, Cardi B, Julia Stiles … 1:47.
(tagsToTranslate) Queens (t) Jennifer Lopez (t) L