When the Industry Refused to Listen

Read Time:4 Minute, 59 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus
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Genre: Documentary
Year Released: 2025
Runtime: 1h 43m
Director(s): Eva Aridjis Fuentes
Where to Watch: Showing at Facets Chicago on May 29, 2025; for more showings, visit www.goodbyehorsesmovie.com

RAVING REVIEW: What begins as a search for a singer behind a cult track quietly morphs into a moving exploration of identity, loss, and reemergence. GOODBYE HORSES: THE MANY LIVES OF Q LAZZARUS doesn’t unfold like a traditional music documentary—it gradually shapes itself into a deeper reflection on how voices get silenced and what it means to be heard finally. Its stripped-down production and heartfelt storytelling strike a chord long after the credits roll. Even if you don’t recognize the artist or the song's name, I can almost guarantee you’ve heard this song!

GOODBYE HORSES: THE MANY LIVES OF Q LAZZARUS reclaims the story of Diane Luckey, a singer whose haunting vocals once punctuated pop culture but whose life remained obscured by decades of silence. Director Eva Aridjis Fuentes frames the documentary around an unexpected reconnection, capturing Q not just as an artist but as a person navigating an industry—and a world—that didn’t know what to do with someone like her. That real-life, fittingly cinematic encounter becomes the bridge between the myth and the woman.

Rather than serving up a nostalgic greatest-hits reel or treating its subject as a curiosity from a distant era, the film keeps the camera grounded in the present. It features extensive footage filmed between 2019 and 2022, allowing Q to reflect on the past on her terms. Her voice doesn’t carry the energy of someone mad at the system that didn’t give her the dues she deserved. It holds something sharper: perspective. The result is less about fame lost and more about dignity reclaimed.

Instead of building momentum toward a dramatic third-act transformation, the structure leans into the unpredictability of real life. Yes, there are early highs—a breakout single, chance encounters with well-known directors, standout moments in film soundtracks. But those moments don’t define the documentary. The real focus is on what came after: the years of being ignored, misrepresented, or forgotten altogether. This isn’t a traditional arc; it’s more like an excavation. Every frame uncovers something that the industry—and often the public—chose not to look at.

The film's best sequences often come in the quietest scenes: conversations in cars, voicemails, and awkward laughter during interviews. These human moments interrupt the heavier themes with refreshing levity. They serve as reminders that she wasn’t just a voice on a track—she was someone, even when she didn’t want to be seen.

What makes the documentary effective is its refusal to flatten Q’s artistry into a single soundbite. Her voice didn’t sit comfortably in any genre. She easily shifted between house, rock, and synth-pop, her tone bold and textured. But instead of being celebrated for her uniqueness, she was sidelined. The music business at the time demanded marketability, and Q—Black, gender-nonconforming, unwilling to conform—was labeled difficult to sell. And yet, through archival performances and never-before-released demos, the film showcases what was missed: a voice that didn’t need reshaping, only recognition.

The documentary takes a turn that may catch some viewers off guard. The first half leans into Q's music career—how it sparked, flared briefly, and fizzled. The second half pivots toward more personal topics: addiction, incarceration, motherhood, and the act of survival. This shift doesn’t always feel seamless but reflects a life that defied conventional structure. Q’s story wasn’t neat. The documentary doesn’t pretend it was.

The shift between music history and emotional unpacking may feel like two different edits slightly clashing. Still, this choice is understandable. The film doesn’t just follow Q’s music—it tracks the systems that failed her and the spaces she carved out for herself anyway. It’s messy by design, mirroring the instability she endured.

GOODBYE HORSES: THE MANY LIVES OF Q LAZZARUS doesn’t try to solve the mystery of where she went. It tries to understand why she left in the first place. It’s not a rise-and-fall narrative or a stylized behind-the-music breakdown. It’s something slower, more reflective, and—thankfully—more honest. The film doesn’t place Q on a pedestal or ask us to admire her from afar. It brings us closer, quietly reminding us that the most powerful stories often come from those no one expects to hear.

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[photo courtesy of DARK NIGHT PICTURES]

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