J Stevens’ Really Happy Someday is not just a film—it’s a deeply personal and evocative journey through identity, self-discovery, and the challenges of transition. A powerful blend of drama and music, the film captures the raw realities of a trans experience in a way that feels both intimate and universally relatable.

Following its world premiere at TIFF, the film has already garnered critical acclaim, and after watching the screener, it’s easy to see why. Co-written by Stevens and lead actor Breton Lalama, Really Happy Someday pulses with authenticity, largely because it mirrors Lalama’s own journey. Filming over a year, early in Lalama’s transition, adds a rare and visceral depth, allowing the audience to witness the real effects of testosterone on both voice and body. This choice makes for a unique and deeply immersive cinematic experience.
The story follows Z (Lalama), a once-promising musical theatre performer whose transition has dramatically altered his voice, making it impossible to perform as he once did. Struggling with both professional and personal upheaval, Z finds himself bartending, where his new boss, Santi (Xavier Lopez), encourages him to reclaim his voice—literally and metaphorically. His relationship with his long-term partner, Danielle (Khadijah Roberts-Abdullah), is also under strain, adding another layer of emotional complexity.

What sets Really Happy Someday apart is its nuanced approach to identity, relationships, and the unfiltered struggles of transitioning. It doesn’t romanticize the journey, nor does it fall into tragic tropes. Instead, it leans into the in-between spaces—the uncertainty, the frustration, and the moments of unexpected joy. The film understands that transition is not just a singular moment but an evolving process, affecting not just the person transitioning but those around them.
Music plays a pivotal role in the film’s emotional landscape. From the inclusion of classics like Les Misérables to an original score by T. Thomason & Joel Waddell, Really Happy Someday uses music as both a narrative device and an emotional anchor. One of the most striking moments is Z listening to an old recording of himself singing On My Own, a song chosen deliberately for its thematic weight. It’s a powerful and unsettling scene, as Z struggles to reconcile the voice he once had with the one he’s now discovering. This, coupled with a soundtrack featuring trans artists such as Mal Blum, Ceréna, and The Clicks, cements the film’s commitment to platforming trans voices both in front of and behind the camera.
J Stevens, recently recognized with the Visionary Director Award by the Toronto Film Critics Association, proves their talent for balancing deeply personal storytelling with broader cultural resonance. Their passion for representation isn’t just visible—it’s embedded into every frame of the film. Stevens’ filmmaking style allows space for natural moments to unfold, ensuring that the story isn’t just told but lived on screen.

Lalama’s performance is raw and deeply affecting. His portrayal of Z is vulnerable yet defiant, capturing the complexities of transitioning while chasing a dream that suddenly feels out of reach. His chemistry with Roberts-Abdullah’s Danielle is heartbreaking in its realism, reflecting the strain that transition can place on long-term relationships. Xavier Lopez also delivers a standout performance as Santi, offering both guidance and tough love in equal measure.
At its core, Really Happy Someday is a film about becoming—about losing parts of yourself and finding new ones in their place. It’s a celebration of resilience, creativity, and self-acceptance, but it never shies away from the struggles that come with it.
With support from Telefilm Canada and the Canada Council for the Arts, this is an indie film with heart, vision, and a much-needed perspective in the cinematic landscape. It’s a film that should have existed a decade ago, but thankfully, it’s here now—and it demands to be seen.
Rating: ★★★★☆
Distributed By: Spindle Films
UK Premiere: 22nd March, BFI Flare
Run Time: 89 minutes