Just like another well-received stripper movie of late, Hustlers, Zola, too, is based on a true story. But rather than originating from an article, Zola was a series of tweets first. As told by its victim, A’ziah “Zola” King. Because now, first come the tweets, then comes the article, then comes the movie. It’s interesting to note, however, that both stories were spotlighted in the year 2015, arguably the last time grifting and conning was “easy” (granted, the main conning events of Hustlers take place from 2011-2013). Because honestly, something about 2016 (apart from “just” the Orange One) shifted the entire structure of existence. And it seemed nothing was ever “carefree” again. Least of all in terms of making money with a hustle.
Or at least not “carefree” like it was for Jessica Rae Swiatkowski—renamed to Stefani in Zola—or Samantha Barbash—renamed to Ramona in Hustlers. In the latter’s case, it turns out that founding a friendship based on hoedom (and maternalistic/materialistic mentoring) with Dorothy a.k.a. Destiny (Constance Wu) will be her eventual undoing. Just as it nearly is for Zola when she allows herself to “take a ho trip” with Stefani, a fellow stripper she barely knows. In this regard, Hustlers is much more a female friendship tragedy than it is a female friendship cautionary tale. Even if that thread of the plotline was over embellished for Lorene Scafaria’s “Hollywood-ification” purposes (because, yes, New York isn’t immune to being “Hollywood-ized”—is perhaps the most “Hollywood” place of all, in fact).
Accordingly, she stated of her screenplay adaptation, “I really wanted to tell the story of love between two women, and how different and complicated it can get. It’s a story from Destiny’s point of view about Ramona in a way—the kind of friendship that can really grow out of trouble but also really get you into trouble… There is this big sister, little sister thing where, with someone that you idolize, it feels like the sun is shining on you when they’re around, and when they’re not around, it’s very cold and dark.” Perhaps in Zola’s case, she’s the reluctant “big sister” of the operation, not realizing this is the role she’s been forced into until it’s too late. Here it must be said that the undercutting racial implications of Zola being presumed to be the “caretaker”/“enforcer” of the outfit are also present in Hustlers, with Ramona’s Latina background taking a front seat on “boisterousness” to Dorothy’s “model minority” status.
The varying racial backgrounds of each pair of women are, in many ways, a means to intensify the foil. Fittingly then, both films start with a mirror. In Hustlers, Dorothy applies her lipstick to the tune of Janet Jackson’s “Control” in the background while, in Zola, both women are standing side by side putting their gloss on.
Her first foray into Manhattan strip club life isn’t quite as glamorous (or lucrative) as she had hoped. Just as Zola was misled about the Tampa club they’re supposed to go to being filled with “ballers,” she’s let down by the reality. Not to mention being treated discriminatorily, namely when she’s told she looks like Whoopi Goldberg. Dorothy, instead, gets called Lucy Liu. This is indicative of the type of generally misogynistic, racist prick men who get their jollies from a strip club. Not to mention the condescending ones who think they’re “better” because they’re on the patron side rather than the performer side, thus a certain client goading Dorothy, “Who hurt you, huh? What did daddy do to you, huh? Come on you can tell me.”
An emphasis placed on the sapphic attraction between both sets of women is also evident consistently throughout each movie, and plays up the idea that a large majority of female friendships do have this tinge to it. In Zola and Stefani and Ramona and Dorothy’s scenarios, that lesbian-infused attraction stems from a mutual getting off on the “power” and “control” that money offers. For example, from the moment Ramona takes the stage to the soundtrack of Fiona Apple’s “Criminal,” Dorothy is riveted by her confidence and agency as much as the men in the crowd are riveted by her ass. As she walks off the stage with fistfuls of cash, she sensually asks Dorothy, “Doesn’t money make you horny?” Immediately after, Dorothy is joining her on the roof, curling up into her coat, whereupon the suggestion is made that they “work together.” This means “lezzing it up” during dances in front of men in the VIP room.
Like Zola, there are interjections from the main characters in Hustlers. The device being used in the latter is the interview Dorothy gives to a journalist played by Julia Stiles named Elizabeth (based on Jessica Pressler for New York Magazine). Her account of events, like Stefani’s, differs vastly from the one given by Ramona. And it’s clear that Dorothy is far more willing to sell Ramona down the river. Though she can at least admit before everything went south that “2007 was the fuckin’ best.” She asserts this just before “Gimme More” by Britney Spears blasts in the car she’s about to buy to accent that point. Cut to 2011, after the financial crisis of ’08 ruined every stripper’s meal ticket. Dorothy is trying to “play it straight,” but finding that path doesn’t seem meant for her. To add to her desperation, she now has a child and, of course, an absconding baby daddy.
So she supposes it’s lucky that Ramona appears again when she goes back into strip clubland. As the two catch up, Ramona feels comfortable enough to tell Dorothy about her new “side hustle.” The one that she and a couple of other girls call “fishing.” Which involves reeling men into the club by getting them hyper-wasted so that they can better take advantage of over-charging their credit cards. Dorothy is reluctant to get excited about such a scam, finding it to be a moral gray area. But Ramona reminds her, “This game is rigged. And it does not reward people who play by the rules.” This is something Zola knows too, which is why she’s the one who urges Stefani to raise the rate for her sexual services. To know her worth. To know that “pussy is worth thousands.” And she reminds her of this even after she unearths just how much of a shit situation Stefani has gotten her into—that is to say, she’s basically corralled Zola to Florida under the guise of ho-based friendship only to get her involved against her will in a sex trafficking gambit.
Ramona isn’t quite so callous and cavalier. And what makes it worse is that Stefani plays up her aura of dumbness to the benefit of getting other women to trust her easily (because no, Zola is not her first friendship victim). In this fashion, one might say Hustlers is a tale based on true friendship that got soured by money, greed and over-confidence, whereas Zola is a tale of the casual post-2015 social media-based “friendship” that can be easily struck up based on the idea of thinking you “know” someone per their “internet presence.” Maybe if money and differing logistical approach ideas hadn’t gotten in the way, Ramona and Dorothy could have remained friends. Both were on level playing fields, intellectually. In contrast, for Zola, there’s no way she would ever fuck with this dumb white bitch again. Even if (lack of) money hadn’t gotten in the way. Because there’s just no “there” there with Stefani.
Zola’s take on friendship additionally seems well-tailored to arrive in post-pandemic movie theaters as everyone has started to think twice about how much time they’re willing to invest in what is ultimately a casual rapport. To boot, Janicza Bravo and Jeremy O. Harris’ script tends to focus more on the ill-advised nature of trusting/going along with someone who wants to be your “bestie” right away. Of questioning those motives even when female friendship can so often fall prey to the “love at first sight” phenomenon as much as a “hetero romantic” encounter can.
