“Flower Girl” Review - No Poochy, No Problem. Just a Full-Blown Reckoning

If you only watched the trailer, you might think Flower Girl is another racy, chaotic comedy with a feminist veneer. But walk in, sit through it, and you’ll quickly realize that this film has teeth. And it knows exactly when to bite.

Ena, played with fearless precision by Sue Ramirez, is a transphobic woman who believes womanhood begins and ends with what’s between your legs. She isn’t unusual, and you might even know someone like her: the kind of woman shaped by unchecked privilege, outdated beliefs, and a quiet superiority that’s never been challenged—until it is. After a confrontation in a women’s restroom, she’s cursed by a transwoman (Kaladkaren, magnetic as ever) and wakes up to see her vagina gone. But her ego? Very much still intact. (For now.). The premise is absurd, but the message is not.

And that’s when the film drops its central question—loudly, quietly, and often hilariously:

"What really makes a woman a woman?"

Is it biology? Softness? A working poochy? (Ena certainly thought so.) But Flower Girl isn’t interested in giving you answers. It’s more interested in unlearning the question itself. Strip away the parts, the pride, the performance; what’s left? Hopefully, someone finally ready to listen.

Writer-director Fatrick Tabada knows exactly what he’s doing. The screenplay is tight (heh!), provocative, and self-aware. There’s no attempt to soften Ena’s ignorance. The film lets her spiral, confront, and eventually unravel in ways that are uncomfortable but necessary. This isn’t just about gender anymore. It’s about control, pride, and what happens when your idea of worth is built on excluding others.

"Ena isn’t a villain in the comic book sense. She’s the kind of woman who believes she's “just being honest” while denying others their humanity. The brilliance of Flower Girl is how it lets her dig her own hole, slowly, absurdly, until she has no choice but to look up."

Sue Ramirez is nothing short of a revelation. She doesn’t flinch. Whether it’s in the raunchiest scenes or the most painfully honest ones, she leans in completely. Ena is not an easy character to love, but Sue gives her complexity, humor, and vulnerability in equal measure. The camera doesn’t just love her, it trusts her. And she delivers.

Kara Moreno’s cinematography is chef’s kiss. The visual effects give just the right amount of sparkle to the film’s surreal tone without pulling focus. Every frame feels intentional, even when it’s completely unhinged.

Beneath the glitter and absurdity is a sharp, urgent commentary on identity and the politics of visibility. The film engages with conversations around the SOGIE Bill, not as a talking point, but as lived tension. Tabada writes with clarity and compassion, never once falling into didactic territory. It’s entertaining, yes, but it’s also one of the most quietly radical things we’ve seen on a local screen this year.

And for women watching, especially those who’ve ever felt they had to prove their womanhood, it hits deep.

"Flower Girl reminds us that femininity is not owed, earned, or anatomical. It is felt, lived, defined on your own terms."

Ena’s loss isn’t just physical. It’s symbolic of the illusion of control. And her journey, as bizarre as it gets, is about confronting that illusion.

There’s no tidy ending. No swooping savior. No final speech wrapped in redemption. Just a shift in perspective, and that’s what makes it powerful.

Flower Girl is unafraid to be messy. And in that mess, it finds clarity.

Cinegeeks rating: A