In her vibrant and genre-bending feature debut The Queen of My Dreams, writer-director Fawzia Mirza delivers a time-hopping tale of love, legacy, and queer Muslim joy. Seamlessly blending Bollywood melodrama with indie film grit, the film explores the fractured relationship between a Pakistani Canadian daughter and her mother with both tenderness and playfulness.
Amrit Kaur (Sex Lives of College Girls) stuns in a dual role, playing both Azra, a queer actor grieving the sudden death of her father, and young Mariam, her conservative mother in 1969 Karachi. With Mirza’s signature wit and deeply felt storytelling, The Queen of My Dreams becomes more than a coming-of-age film, it’s a celebration of generations of women trying to carve out space for themselves in worlds that often tell them not to exist.
Queer, Muslim, and Full of Life
At its heart, the film is a mother-daughter love story. After Azra’s father dies, she returns to Pakistan and is forced to confront not just her strained bond with Mariam but also the ghosts of her family’s past. Through inventive narrative shifts and bold cinematic flourishes, including fantasy sequences and clever casting choices, the film travels through three decades and two continents to illustrate how much history repeats itself.
“Joy is revolution,” Mirza said in a interview with Gay Times. “If we don’t see our joy on screens, if we’re only watching our demise, how can we imagine any other future?”
In an era where DEI programs are under threat and queer stories are often reduced to trauma, The Queen of My Dreams flips the script. Mirza centers connection, comedy, and possibility. And yes, there’s a deleted phone book scene and a symbolic clip-clopping horse walk to prove it.
A Conversation With Fawzia Mirza and Amrit Kaur
During that same interview with Gay Times, Mirza and Kaur unpack the layers behind the film’s universal appeal and rich cultural specificity.
“The truths of pain and joy are the same across generations,” says Kaur. To create distinct identities for Azra and Mariam, she dove into physicality and movement. For Azra, she mirrored someone she knows. For Mariam, she embodied a Māori horse, yes, really. “She’s regal, always moving forward,” Kaur explains.
The casting of trans actress Zara Usman as Rani, a character in 1969 Karachi, also reflects Mirza’s commitment to authentic representation. “The subcontinent has always had trans people,” Mirza says. “The point is: we have always been here.”
Why Now, and Why This Story?
The film’s release comes amid renewed global tensions and rising bigotry, which both artists acknowledge as part of the film’s relevance. “I feel proud to be Indian playing a Pakistani role,” Kaur says. “It’s a representation of love between borders.”
As for Mirza, she’s proud to offer something that reflects what queer life can be. “I’m happy to be not everyone’s cup of chai,” she quips.
Still, she’s hopeful. “We’ve got to bring the same manifesting energy to storytelling,” Mirza says. “If that means rom-coms and queer joy, then that’s the future I’m working for.”
