For those looking to add a little Broadway sparkle to their December, The Prom, on Netflix December 11, will do the trick. Directed by Ryan Murphy and based on the 2016 musical, the film centers on a teenage girl from Indiana, Emma (Jo Ellen Pellman), who's banned from taking her girlfriend, Alyssa (Ariana DeBose), to prom, so a group of larger-than-life Broadway stars—played by Meryl Streep, Nicole Kidman, James Corden, and Andrew Rannells—crash the town and try to set things right.
But their motives aren't entirely pure: They want good publicity to jump-start their stalling showbiz careers. Along the way, they're moved by Emma's story and realize life extends beyond their egos. Is it cheesy? Yes, very—but there's enough heart in it to charm you.
I've written about these types of adolescent queer narratives before. As a 20-something gay person, I think it's easy to forget how terrifying coming out in your teens can be. But it's a universal experience—regardless of what privileges you have—that shows how all LGBTQIA+ people are connected. The Prom reminded me of this in a touching way, showing two teenage girls from different backgrounds joining hands and preparing to take the world on together. It isn't this simple, of course. At one point Emma and Alyssa break up for reasons I can't reveal, but they reunite in a classic rom-com way that will warm your heart and make you cry.
I must confess: I did cry a lot watching The Prom on Netflix, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it reminded me of being 17 years old, in the closet, and scared. Maybe it was the scene between Alyssa and her mom, played by Kerry Washington, at the end of the film. Or maybe it's the fact this movie looks and feels like an actual Broadway show—something that's been missing from my life, and the lives of so many people, this year.
There truly is nothing like seeing live theater, especially spectacle porn like Wicked, Moulin Rouge!, and The Lion King. The choreography, dizzying lights, and razzle-dazzle showmanship have a way of completely transporting you. I've been to shows where the sheer magnitude alone—the overflow of glitter and gusto—brought tears to my eyes. I suspect that's what happened with The Prom. It's sensory overload in the best way. We're only humans, after all: If enough people scream at you to feel something, eventually you will.
But not everything about The Prom made me warm and fuzzy. There were some obvious issues. I've never been a fan of “snobby city people teach simple country folk about culture” stories, and The Prom leans into that hard-core. It gets quite condescending at times, which is a bit icky.
Not as icky, though, as James Corden's performance. He plays a flamboyantly gay Broadway star named Barry Glickman, which is wrong for many reasons. For one, Corden isn't gay. Given the limited opportunities gay actors have in Hollywood, roles like these should really go to them. Maybe that will change in 50 years when, fingers crossed, there's true equality and gay and straight actors will both be considered for roles in superhero movies—but that day isn't here. So for now, gay roles should be played by gay actors.
If this can't happen, the least a straight actor can do is try not to perpetuate tired stereotypes. I'm sorry to say that's exactly what Corden does in The Prom. His gay face, as some outlets are calling it, is characterized by a cakey, high-pitched voice, dramatic hand gestures, and enthusiastic musings about shopping. Here's the thing: Gay people like this do exist—I myself have a few of these traits—but the problem is that Corden's performance isn't authentic. If he had even an ounce of nuance, people wouldn't be as mad as they are (and they're mad). What we have instead is a two-dimensional portrait of homosexuality painted with the broadest of strokes. It's “Yaaas queen” personified, which is troubling coming from someone who's probably never uttered that phrase in earnest.
I'm honestly baffled as to why director Ryan Murphy, a gay man himself, didn't see this as a glaring issue. He's typically a champion of diversity and inclusion, but this feels like a major oversight. The fact Barry is plus-size plays into his character a bit—particularly in one song where he refers to himself as a “big girl”—and it would've been nice to see an actual gay man who is plus-size play it. As one myself, I crave the representation, but pop culture has failed me time and time again. (Especially here, where all we get is James Corden saying, “I'm as gay as a bucket of wigs!” Yup.) This could—and should—have been an opportunity to move the needle forward.
Frankly, The Prom doesn't do much to move any needle forward, and I suppose that's okay at the end of the day. If you can look past Corden's performance and the occasionally preachy tone, the movie is a shimmery good time with simple, effective themes. It's perfect Friday-night entertainment—especially if your Fridays pre-COVID involved dinner and show. This time, let the show come to you.
The Prom is now streaming on Netflix.
Christopher Rosa is the staff entertainment writer at Glamour. Follow him on Twitter @chrisrosa92.
