AJ and the Queen is a Netflix original television series released on Jan. 10 that stars RuPaul Charles as Ruby Red, a drag queen who goes on an unlikely cross-country adventure with a young sidekick named AJ. It features cameos of drag queens from RuPaul’s Drag Race and is co-created by Michael Patrick King, known for directing Sex in the City.
The series boasts a cast that includes Broadway stars like Josh Segarra and Michael-Leon Wooley, but honestly their performances were upstaged by the work of the talented 11-year-old actor who plays AJ, Izzy G. When her acting is bad, it’s because of bad writing. Case in point: the first few episodes portray AJ as a completely unlikeable character who’s demanding, constantly rude, and shows no remorse for her terrible treatment of others. However, throughout the series it’s shocking how well someone so young is able to convey tantrums, grief, and childlike playfulness. The fact that a young, up-and-coming actress outdid experienced Broadway professionals doesn’t reflect well on the rest of the cast, though.
Here’s the hard truth: the entire series could’ve been condensed into a movie and been done with. It very quickly becomes a sitcom rather than a high-stakes drama due to how many filler episodes there are and the incompetence of the villains. Half the season centres around hijinks that highlight aspects of gay pop culture, like the importance of figures like Judy Garland and Diana Ross to the LGBTQ+ community. However, instead of offering fans an unsatisfying ending and banal story arcs that add little to the viewer experience, everything could’ve been nicely concluded if the series was instead a standard-length movie.
The problem with AJ and the Queen is that its attempts to be educational about different lifestyles are ham-fisted at best, and offensive at worst. The comic relief character, Louis Bell, is a blind, gay, black man who is the butt of countless disabled and fat jokes. (“I’m blind, bitch!” being a common punchline.) Not only are the mannerisms of a blind character inaccurately portrayed by the abled actor who plays him, but his personality seems to exclusively revolve around eating, being promiscuous, and making jokes about aspects that make him marginalized. This might’ve been more palatable if he were a real person making jokes about his lived experiences, but this is a character (poorly) written by a team of writers.
Other attempts to humanize characters who are different from the norm are equally as uncomfortable to watch. The cast meets a woman with a double mastectomy whose storyline serves no purpose and isn’t handled well. (The main characters gift her fake breasts so she can please her husband.) AJ’s mother, who suffers from addiction, is miraculously able to go cold turkey without any withdrawal symptoms when she realizes her daughter is missing. The intentions are admirable, but the writing is so painfully cheesy and lazy that its attempts at representation are insulting.
Redeeming qualities? Admittedly, the show has a few. The lighting is impeccable, for example. Scenes frequently have vivid and eye-catching undertones where, although characters might only be in a Chinese restaurant, they’ll have an alluring red-and-blue glow to them. This makes the nightclub scenes visually appealing. Although the first few episodes are rough, the main characters turn out to be well-developed and have good chemistry with one another. Robert, played by RuPaul, isn’t just a flamboyant drag queen: he’s also a germaphobe, extremely talkative, annoyingly meticulous, and gullible. The show had hours of screen time to develop these characters, so the fact that they at least managed to pull that aspect off is appreciated.
Now, if AJ and the Queenexisted in a vacuum devoid of social context then its awful representation might be excusable. But it doesn’t.
RuPaul has been an inspirational icon in the LGBTQ+ community for decades. His reach and influence on pop culture, especially outside of traditional LGBTQ+ circles, has only grown with the rise of his reality TV series, RuPaul’s Drag Race. There is a sense of duty entrusted to marginalized individuals that have achieved success and recognition: make the way easier for others. This is needed, especially now in a time when hate crimes in Canada have been increasing since 2014, according to Statistics Canada.
It’s difficult to believe RuPaul’s intentions are pure when he tries to educate his audience on aspects of the LGBTQ+ community while also incessantly promoting his own music and trying to cram as many RuPaul’s Drag Race contestants as possible into each episode. Not only does it come off as disingenuous, but it feels like he’s pandering to fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race and trying to benefit from the platforms that drag queens from the show have built for themselves.
After watching the entire first season, it can confidently be said that watching a dumpster fire would be a more thrilling experience than AJ and the Queen: it would probably be less predictable and have higher stakes too. Save your time and look for better LGBTQ+ content elsewhere. You’ve been warned.
Chandy is a biology major/chemistry minor who's been a staff writer, Arts editor, and Managing Editor at The Cascade. She began writing in elementary school when she produced Tamagotchi fanfiction to show her peers at school -- she now lives in fear that this may have been her creative peak.
