Lilly Andrews, Asst. Arts & Life Editor
I’ve seen dozens of low-budget crazy-party B movies, which is why “Party Girl’s” branding didn’t draw me in.
The poster was maybe a little misleading: a kitschy-looking Parker Posey sits on a stack of books, positioned like a doll. The New York City skyline stretches out behind her. The tagline reads, “There’s a new librarian in town!”
I was certainly interested—just not yet sold. It seemed up my alley, and I knew I’d get some enjoyment out of watching it. But the poster just looked a little too awkward and conventional for me to really connect with it.
Immediately, “Party Girl” proved me wrong. As soon the camera panned to Lady Bunny, who was chattering about her missing earring, I was hooked.
Though this film mainly focuses on the juxtaposition of work and pleasure, it is undeniably steeped in the ever-present queer culture of 1990s New York. It gives the community a necessary nod that was, at the time, only ever really seen in pioneering New Queer Cinema films.
“Party Girl” follows Mary, a young woman who has been busted for hosting underground parties. In jail, she calls her godmother, Judy, to post her bail. Unemployed and indebted to Judy, Mary begrudgingly agrees to work at the library, which Judy manages.
Throughout the film, Mary must manage the push and pull of her days at the library and her nights at the club—specifically Rene’s, where her roommate Leo has landed a gig as a DJ. Throughout the movie, she faces threats of homelessness, takes unspecified drugs, meets and romances a Lebanese street vendor, and organizes Leo’s records according to the Dewey Decimal System—all while sporting an incredible wardrobe.
Though it might seem a little silly to put so much emphasis on Mary’s outfits, her fashion feels like a perfect—and integral—representation of the Club Kid scene. She wears neon striped tights, designer blazers, sequined shorts and long, fake ponytail clip-ons. She steals Gaultier straight from a rich person’s closet alongside her friend, Derrick.
This insistent emphasis on fashion, even while Mary remains dirt poor, feels reminiscent of Azealia Banks’ first album, “Broke With Expensive Taste.” Mary’s couture clothing eventually becomes important to the plotline of the film, when she decides to sell all of her high fashion to avoid getting evicted. While this is not only a heartbreaking turn for the viewer, who has seen how much Mary truly cares about her style, it also signals a growth of maturity; she begins to value her future path more than her current, impulsive life.
Much of the film builds upon Mary’s growing interest in the academic world. Though she initially doesn’t seem interested in the library’s work, she learns that she possesses many of the skills necessary for the job. However, Mary realizes that finding a career path isn’t as clear cut as many people pretend it is.
While talking to the street vendor, Mufasa, about her lackluster future, Mary says, “I want to do something.” He asks her, “What do you want to do?” to which she responds, “God, it’s not that easy.”
I really appreciated this aspect of the film because it felt like a realistic depiction of how young people approach the workforce. It captured the aimless nature of career anxieties and the pressure that is put upon big choices.
Regardless, “Party Girl” is, at its core, a successful comedy. Watch it if you’re looking for a laugh. I’d give it an eight out of 10.
Lilly Andrews ‘29 is a creative writing major from Youngstown.