"You wanna go somewhere with me?: ZOLA Paves The Way For Social Media-Based Cinema

My review of Zola isn’t “kind of long and full of suspense,” but make no mistake, I very much enjoyed this movie. The comedic beats were perfectly timed. The world of sex work and exotic dancing was brought to us in an earnest and candid way. The uncomfortable appropriation of Black culture by the two main white characters is so successful because it’s so cringy that it reminds you exactly why white people are the absolute worst. It illustrates the dangerous world of sex trafficking and how powerless the women involved are. It’s funny and honest and upsetting and everything in-between. The messages it seeks to convey are especially poignant because of its grit and genuineness; everything, down to the cinematography, is so wonderfully executed, it’s hard to believe this film came from a twitter thread. 

For those who aren’t familiar with the lore behind Zola, the film itself is based off of a Twitter thread where user @_zolarmoon (A’Ziah “Zola” King) recounted her insane experience over the course of several days in Florida with a girl she recently met, the girl’s boyfriend, and the girl’s “roommate,” who is later revealed to be her pimp. Zola’s thread candidly takes us through the world of sex work, exotic dancing, sex trafficking, and ultimately, her survival, as she embarks on what she believes to be a weekend of making money at a few clubs in Tampa. 

Zola is extremely unique in its presentation for several reasons. For me, it very much acts as the major breakout for the new genre of storytelling we’ve seen emerging from platforms like Twitter and TikTok, and man, what a breakout it is. A lot of the verbiage in the film is pulled directly from the original thread, which you can read here, and I think this was the perfect choice for several reasons. First, it gives you Zola’s own experience in her own exact words. You don’t have to question many of the lines from the film because you can go back and read them yourself. Verbatim. Secondly, it gives us an intelligent insight into the world of exotic dancing from someone who has experienced all of these things firsthand. There aren't any guesses made about what goes on in these clubs from the dancers’ perspectives; Zola is telling us, using her own verbiage and inside language, what happens when these dancers leave the stage, as well as how unfortunately common it is for women to be placed in these types of situations. Thirdly, the women in this film aren’t objectified as they are in other films about dancing or sex work; the men are. The men in this film are objectified as we mainly see only male nudity, and when Zola and Stefani are in the hotel, it’s shot in an almost procedural way. Remove clothes, have sex, leave money. Rinse, wash, repeat. 

Speaking of the shots in Zola, I was highly engrossed in the cinematography of the film. It has this sense of symmetry that is very reminiscent of Wes Anderson, but if Wes Anderson directed grindhouse and/or exploitation films. The color schemes and symmetry are there, but there’s this layer of grime surrounding it. There’s also this incredible scene where Zola and X, Stefani’s pimp, are speaking on the balcony, and there’s no audible dialogue, so we’re meant to read their lips, and it’s like a personification of reading through Zola’s Twitter thread. As things go even more south, Zola is running down the stairs crying and screaming inaudibly on the phone to X, and as she runs down these stairs, I felt a level of Hitchcockian claustrophobia I haven’t fully experienced in a long time. Later on, there’s another scene where Zola essentially disassociates while X is trying to get Stefani back from a meetup gone very, very awry, and the screen essentially turns into a Windows screensaver until Zola is brought back to reality. Even all of the timestamps in the film for reference are presented as the top of the iPhone lockscreen. For a film based on a Twitter thread, the attention to details within the cinematography is definitely worthy of a retweet alone. 

Zola may have originally only had 140 characters per line to recount her story, so we’re extremely fortunate to have gotten this film with so much commentary on the world of sex work, sex trafficking, racism, cultural appropriation and exotic dancing. Like I mentioned earlier, the women in this film are not objectified. There’s a scene early on where Zola is dancing on the pole in her living room, and it’s beautiful. Her boyfriend is fast asleep, and Zola is solely doing this for herself. The camera tracks all of her movements in this incredibly fluid way, and it’s absolutely intoxicating. We’re being shown an artist in their element. When Zola is preparing herself at the club, she looks in the mirror and asks who she wants to be, and we’re taken through a montage of the different identities she has created for the sake of her performance. It’s another prime example of how this is Zola’s creative outlet; her pole is the equivalent of a paintbrush or keyboard. In a similar vein, as previously mentioned, the scenes where Stefani sleeps with various men back in the hotel isn’t sexy. It’s transactional and procedural, and we don’t see female nudity, only male. It’s very much the complete opposite of the male gaze as we’re not shown Stefani’s face during these transactions, only the faces of the men she’s sleeping with. It’s absolutely refreshing to have this kind of perspective shift, but unfortunately, we can’t bask in it for long. 

Zola may have some great perspective shifts and portrayals, but there are also a lot of heavy themes throughout. There’s a very uncomfortable scene in the car where Stefani is recalling an altercation she had with another dancer, and, well, she not only sees fit to culturally appropriate Black culture nine ways to Sunday, but she is extremely racist in her depiction of the other dancer. Zola is noticeably uncomfortable, but Stefani doesn’t apologize or pick up on how grossly inappropriate everything she’s doing is. When we are given Stefani’s rebuttal to Zola’s claims in the film, we see the same theme once again. She calls Zola “nappy” and “ratchet” numerous times, and the way Zola is presented throughout these brief scenes is through several visual stereotypes associated with Black women. These depictions are so ignorant and deliberate in their execution, you have no choice but to laugh at how absolutely uncomfortable you are with Stefani’s sheer stupidity; she appropriates so much of Black culture throughout the film while also being completely and utterly racist, and again, white people are the absolute worst (I am a white woman, and I will once again say white people are the absolute worst). Her boyfriend Derreck is also extremely guilty of cultural appropriation in both dress and speech, and while it isn’t as forthright as that of Stefani’s, it’s still extremely noticeable. Long story short, for the love of God, white people, do better. Educate yourselves. Don’t be a goddamn racist. Don’t appropriate other cultures. Just do better. 

In addition, Zola also depicts the extremely disturbing world of sex trafficking. As unlikeable as Stefani is, it’s still hard to watch her have to be a participant of something so heinous. She’s given almost no cut of the money she earns, and if she does receive a cut, it’s because she lied about how much money she made. She’s forced to have sex with a multitude of men, and Zola helps her get a little control back by updating her page, but she is still left with little to no control over anything. When she’s taken by one of the men she’s supposed to meet up with, she’s bruised and beaten and dragged into the hotel room by her hair. At the same time, Stefani also acted as a recruiter for X by getting Zola involved, and we eventually find out from Derreck this isn’t the first girl Stefani has forced into this situation under the guise of dancing in Tampa. Stefani is stuck in a cycle because of X, and it’s heartbreaking. Stefani is, by no means, the protagonist of this story, but it’s still extremely hard to have to watch her participate in these acts with no control over her finances, body, or, honestly, relationships. (This is also a friendly reminder to #freebritney). 

Zola is wonderful. Plain and simple. I was fully engaged from beginning to end because every part of it is so amazingly produced. We are given entry into this entire world of exotic dancing that has hilarious moments, but it exposes the dark underbelly that exists in some sex work and shows us the horrific ways of sex trafficking all through the words of Zola, who experienced it firsthand. We’re taken through this weekend with Zola as though we’re sitting with a friend while they explain their story. It’s deeply personal and terrifying and funny and original in a way that can’t be replicated by anything else. It’s sincerely Zola’s Twitter thread come to life, but not in a trendy way. This adaptation is like the illustrations to go along with the text. It explores the toxicity and complexities of female friendships in a way I haven’t seen since Jennifer’s Body. It’s #great.