This 1990 documentary, directed by Jennie Livingston, is not just a film—it’s a cultural archive, a sassy syllabus, and a shimmering disco ball of truth reflecting both the pain and power of queer life in 1980s New York. It’s as educational as a TED Talk but with way more sequins and significantly better music.
Set in the world of Harlem’s drag balls, Paris Is Burning introduces us to queens, legends, mothers, and icons who could serve face, body, and wisdom—often all in one sentence. They drop pearls of streetwise philosophy between struts and shade. Ever heard the term “realness”? This is the birthplace. You want to know why people vogue? This is the syllabus.
Musically, the film snaps, crackles, and pops. The soundtrack is a glorious blend of house beats and soul rhythms that make your shoulders shimmy whether you want them to or not. It’s the kind of music that doesn’t just underscore the action—it is the action. Try watching Dorian Corey deliver a monologue on surviving life with a beat behind her and not feel like you’re being blessed by the Church of Fierce.
Aesthetically? Baby, the category is timeless eleganza. The fashion might be thrift-store-meets-fantasy, but the impact? Haute couture. The looks may not be Versace, but the attitude is priceless. There’s a rawness to it, a DIY glam that feels more honest than any designer runway. And the way it’s shot—gritty but affectionate, intimate yet grand—cements it as both art and archive.
Let’s be clear: Paris Is Burning was groundbreaking. It didn’t just crack the ceiling—it vogued through it in six-inch heels. It gave voice to Black and Latinx queer communities long before mainstream media knew how to spell LGBTQ+. It asked us to consider gender, race, poverty, and performance decades before universities turned them into buzzwords.
This film is funny, tragic, fabulous, and fierce. It’s a classic because it doesn’t age—it evolves. Like the queens it profiles, it serves—history, style, insight, drama. Watching it now is like finding out your cool aunt from the ’80s was actually a prophet in a feather boa.