Director: Ivan Vydumlev
Release Year: 2019
The documentary Saint Petersdrag (2019) by Ivan Vydumlev unfolds as an intimate and unfiltered journey into the world of Russian drag, set against the monochrome backdrop of Saint Petersburg’s stern Soviet architecture. The city’s vast courtyards, heavy stone facades and bleak northern light form an almost symbolic contrast to the dazzling performers who burst into view, dressed in sequins, wigs and intense self-expression. Within this environment the drag and travesty community emerges as a defiantly vibrant counterculture, one that thrives in the shadows while building its own mythology, family structures and artistic traditions.
Vydumlev approaches this world with curiosity rather than sensationalism. The documentary functions as a cultural study, a social commentary and a portrait of emotional survival. It introduces viewers to queens of different generations, weaving together their stories and struggles while revealing the layers of meaning that drag has acquired in Russia. In the West drag performers often grew into pop culture icons after the sexual revolution shifted attitudes toward gender and queer expression. In Russia that cultural landscape evolved very differently. The drag scene remained underground for decades and its performers survived through resilience, secrecy, improvisation and a stubborn refusal to disappear. The documentary captures this tension and highlights how Russian drag artistry developed its own traditions that do not simply echo Western models but respond to local history and hardship.
The film unfolds across four distinct chapters, although Vydumlev blends them with a cinematic fluidity that avoids rigid separation. The first chapter draws the viewer into the world of the new drag generation, a cohort that came of age with social media and Western queer pop culture available at least in fragments online. Gena Marvin and Vanessa Viper represent this youthful wave. They started performing in clubs but gradually shifted to online platforms where they could experiment more freely with style, persona and community. Their scenes feel charged with restless ambition and a need to find visibility in a country that often punishes queerness. They speak openly about the dangers of being gay in Russia, about the importance of drag families and about their everyday jobs that fund their creative lives. Their art offers escape and affirmation, but it also demonstrates how the younger generation negotiates two worlds, the physical one that often rejects them and the digital one that seems to promise possibility.
The second chapter turns to the older performers Miss Coco and Margo Mandarinova, divas who began their careers in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Their stories reveal a very different era of Russian drag, one shaped by harsh economic transitions, limited venues and a culture that often tolerated them only in the darkest corners of nightlife. They now perform in a small club called Malevich on the outskirts of the city. The camera lingers on cramped dressing rooms, makeshift costumes and the exhaustion that comes after years of fighting for attention and relevance. Their lives are filled with longing for recognition, struggles with alcohol and the psychological weight of performing femininity in a society that often reacts with hostility. Vydumlev does not romanticize their experience. Instead, he shows how these queens built the foundations upon which the newer generation now stands. They carry stories etched in eyeliner and survival, and they embody the resilience of an older Russian queer world that rarely makes it into mainstream narratives.
The third chapter takes a more introspective turn through the story of Bagoa San. His reflections revolve around the idea of self-acceptance and the long journey toward embracing individuality. Through quiet monologues and gentle observational footage, the chapter explores drag not as spectacle but as a form of personal liberation. Bagoa San describes how drag helped him understand his own nature and challenged him to step beyond fear. His perspective creates an emotional anchor in the film. It makes clear that drag in Russia is not simply entertainment but a form of self-creation that allows performers to assert their identity in a social atmosphere where visibility often carries risk.
The fourth chapter expands the frame and takes viewers into the largest travesty stage in Russia. Here the energy shifts again, offering chaotic backstage scenes full of hurried makeup, fraying nerves and the rush of adrenaline that precedes every performance. This section captures the machinery of the travesty world, from costume preparation to whispered gossip, from rivalries to shared vulnerability. The camera reveals the delicate construction of illusion and the fragile humanity beneath the layers of foundation and powder. The performers step into their personas as if entering another dimension, one that temporarily offers them freedom from judgment. Yet the documentary also hints at how exhausting it can be to live a double life, to maintain a mask when the world outside threatens to crack it open.
Throughout the film Vydumlev circles back to several essential questions. What is travesty and can it be considered art? What does drag mean in a country where queer expression is often constrained by politics and prejudice? What forces push young people toward this intensely expressive but often dangerous form of performance? The documentary does not offer simple answers. Instead, it allows the performers to reveal the complexities of their lives, from creative passion to fear, from humor to heartbreak. Drag in Russia emerges as more than a stage act. It becomes a form of resistance, a personal sanctuary and an artistic tradition built through defiance.
In Saint Petersdrag the city of Saint Petersburg becomes a character in its own right. Its gray architecture surrounds the performers like a constant reminder of the world they must navigate. Yet amid the coldness and concrete, bursts of color appear through glitter, extravagant fashion and the emotional rawness of people who refuse to be silent. Vydumlev’s documentary captures this tension with sensitivity and curiosity, offering a rare and compelling portrait of a community that thrives despite the odds. The film preserves voices that might otherwise remain unheard, and in doing so it frames Russian drag as a vibrant, difficult and deeply human form of artistic expression.
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