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Enigma review: a fascinating look into the overlapping lives of Amanda Lear and April Ashley

This documentary from Transparent producer Zackary Drucker explores the peaks of troughs of the scandalous lives of two trailblazing survivors

4.0 rating

By Gary Grimes

Amanda Lear sitting by a piano wearing a purple top and animal print cardigan
Amanda Lear (Image: BFI Flare)

In Enigma, a fascinating new documentary from trans filmmaker Zackary Drucker, we delve deep into the lives of two legends of queer history and mythology: April Ashley and Amanda Lear.

The film covers the women’s beginnings at the legendary Parisian cabaret club Le Carousel where they supposedly first met, and tracks how their lives diverged onto vastly different paths, as Ashley briefly found success as a fashion model before becoming a tabloid item in the UK when her marriage to artistocrat Arthur Corbett was famously annulled in 1970 on the grounds that she had concealed her transgender identity from him (though she maintained he was always aware of her history).

Meanwhile, Lear found herself playing muse to Salvador Dalí and mingling with the likes of David Bowie and the Rolling Stones, before embarking on a successful run as pop star in her own right. She established herself as a bona fide disco diva, scoring hits across Europe and maintains a level of respectable celebrity status to this day. At one point in the film, we even see the late Tina Turner naming her, along with Grace Jones and Donna Summer, as an example of the then “fresh” disco music that was growing in popularity in 1979.

The film examines how these characters, who began their public lives at the same place, both figuratively and literally, wound up at such different junctures. There’s just one problem with this hypothesis – Lear denies any of it is true. She claims, despite photographic evidence to the contrary, to have never met April Ashley or any of the other Carousel performers who give interviews about their friendship with Lear. She denies ever going by the name Peki d’Oslo, the moniker she reportedly went by in Paris. And, most importantly, she staunchly denies any suggestion that she is a trans woman.

Lear, who is interviewed at length for the film, is the ultimate unreliable narrator. Her incredulous reactions to even the mere suggestion of her having met some of the film’s characters, who detail intimate relationships with her in a past life, provide many moments of levity in this story which is, at times, tragic. A true pro in front of the camera, she possesses such a natural charm that it is impossible to dislike her, despite what some viewers may feel about her claims.

“A brilliant tribute to this one of a kind trailblazer”

Ashley sadly passed away before filmmakers were able to speak to her, though her presence looms large through archival interview footage and contributions from her friends who speak of her with reverence and affection. The film is a brilliant tribute to this one-of-a-kind trailblazer who sacrificed so much in the name of living as her true, authentic self. Indeed, the time we spend dwelling on the nadir of Ashley’s life begs the question: if Lear is in fact a trans woman, who could blame her for wanting to conceal that? Was her life and her success not, arguably, exponentially easier because she opted to blur the lines of her identity?

And yet, at other points, Drucker, who appears on camera throughout the film in conversation with Lear, clearly believes that she ought to publicly own her identity as a trans woman. Which brings us to the other great conflict of the film: what are the ethics of a trans woman dedicating an entire documentary to analysing the “true” gender of another (allegedly) trans woman? A woman who has repeatedly and emphatically made it clear she does not wish to discuss her gender, for that matter (one of the film’s most memorable moments is a look back at excruciating footage of Lear looking extremely comfortable as she’s brutally prodded about the subject of her gender on live television in 1976).

This point is noted by Morgan M. Page, a trans historian who appears as a talking head in the film. Speaking at a post-film Q&A at BFI Southbank, where the film recently premiered as part of BFI Flare, Page, who is a friend of Drucker’s, was asked why she was drawn to the project in the first place. “I was really into the gall of making this movie – a trans person sort of outing another trans person cinematically,” she joked. “I was like, ‘Ooh [Drucker]’s about to get cancelled – I better get in the middle of that’.”

Whatever you might feel about the film’s conceit, there is so much to enjoy in this tale of these truly enigmatic, glamourous and singular women. Our only complaint is that the film’s 95-minute run time is just not enough to cover all of the events of these captivating women’s lives (the film skips over roughly 3-4 decades), so prepare to devote hours to diving down rabbit holes on the internet after watching.

Enigma is screening as part of BFI Flare. You can check for tickets to the next screening here.