When A’Ziah “Zola” King’s 148-tweet thread went viral back in October 2015, the idea that it would become a movie would have seemed as extraordinary as the story itself. A wild tale of a weekend trip to Tampa where a fellow stripper manipulated Zola into helping her trade sex for money, director/co-writer Janicza Bravo begins Zola with the same striking question as the thread: “y’all wanna hear a story about how me and this bitch here fell out? It’s kind of long, but full of suspense.”
This time, those words are spoken by Taylour Paige, who plays the Zola to Riley Keough’s conniving Stefani, as they preen in a mirror. What follows is just as much fun as reading that thread was years ago—even if this is your first time hearing the story. From that opening scene, Bravo establishes the film’s tone: knowing and somewhat distant. Zola never forgets it’s an adaptation of a viral Twitter thread and by letting the audience know it’s OK to laugh, that scene helps keep the viewer from ever taking the admittedly dangerous situations Zola experiences too seriously.
Take the first time Stefani and X (Colman Domingo)–the man Zola first meets as the Stefani’s roommate but eventually learns is his pimp–trick her into meeting up with men who want to pay them for sex. When Zola initially tries to refuse, both X’s amiable sheen and his American accent drop, giving way to a threatening demeanor and a Nigerian accent. So, when the first paying customer enters the fancy hotel room X procured for the girls, the audience worries Zola will be forced to do something she doesn’t want to do. Instead, she yells at Stefani and stands in a corner facing the wall, throwing a disgusted glance over her shoulder as Stefani has sex with the man.
In part, it’s Bravo and co-writer Jeremy O. Harris’s brilliant choice to break that scene’s tension and off-putting seediness by punctuating it with Zola saying in voiceover, “they started fuckin’, it was gross,” that makes it so funny. However, Paige’s wry, confident performance is equally responsible for why that scene, and Zola as a whole, work so well. Every time it seems like Zola is about to lose control of a situation and face real danger, Paige’s captivating screen presence allows the character to take command, recalling King’s charming confidence in the original thread even when not directly quoting her. When Zola realizes that Stefani only made $150 for that first encounter, she quickly makes a rival ad charging much more. Even when X screams at her later for undermining his authority, she only looks scared for a second before a mask of disdain and determination replaces it.
While Paige is the film’s biggest asset, the rest of the cast is just as fun. Domingo is pitch perfect playing a character who needs to be both absurd and dangerous. Nicholas Braun gets laugh after laugh as the film’s lovable clown. Yet it’s Riley Keough’s Stefani who remains Paige’s most essential scene partner. At turns obnoxious and vulnerable, Stefani leaves both Zola and the audience wondering whether she’s a master at gaslighting or just as much a victim of circumstance as Zola. It’s a great performance and Keough’s chemistry with Paige is one of the film’s great joys. Particularly in early scenes, watching them banter in a hyped-up shorthand that feels like a language all their own makes it so easy to understand why these women became friends in the first place.
In a lesser film, those moments of silly camaraderie would feel condescending–possibly even misogynistic–but Bravo doesn’t dismiss this story or its origins, leaning into the social media aspect rather than necessarily making fun of it. Composer Mica Levi’s score frequently integrates the sounds of text message alerts or Tweet notifications, complementing the fast-paced, publicly documented lives of these characters. Cinematographer Ari Wegner’s images often feel like they’re overlaid with an Instagram filter, making even Zola’s worst experiences seem a little glamorous. Editor Joi McMillan’s quick and often abrupt shifts in tone or image recall the constant onslaught of scrolling through social media, each moment a memorable instant in an overall outrageous story.
Given how much Bravo pulls from our experience of social media, it would be easy to wonder if she’s making a larger point through Zola’s story. Is she trying to comment on our obsession with social media? Is she highlighting how vulnerable Black women can be in America? Maybe she’s making a film about toxic female friendships. It could be about all those things. But maybe it’s not supposed to mean anything at all. Perhaps, just like the viral social media that inspired it, Zola is simply meant to be enjoyed while it’s happening, to be talked about later, meaning as much or as little as you want. What incredible decadence, to go to the movies in the height of summer just to have fun.
