The ideal time to watch Todd Stephens’s Swan Song is late at night with whiskey on the rocks or a highball to go along with its great soundtrack of songs of regret, from Judy Garland’s “The Man That Got Away,” to Shirley Horn’s “Here’s to Life,” and “Yesterday When I Was Young,” sung by Dusty Springfield. Remorse and the passage of time are some of the themes in Stephens’s tart and reflective screenplay. According to the opening credit, it’s based on a “true icon,” Pat Pitsenbarger, who embodies the considerable changes for the LGBTQ+ community over the past 50 years.

Usually when Udo Kier appears on screen, viewers need to hold on to their hats—among his most recent roles: a merciless mercenary in Bacurau and an eye-gouging jealous husband in the relentlessly grim The Painted Bird. Viewers can now exhale. As Pat, his piercing pale blue eyes, pursed lips, and dusky voice are less intimidating and more approachable as he sashays in a fluorescent lime green leisure suit topped with a purple velvet hat. With his German-accented, deadpan delivery and insouciant attitude, you can almost imagine him breaking into a Dietrich-flavored rendition of “Lazy Afternoon.”

The first 20 minutes take place in a threadbare Ohio nursing home for seniors on social security, including Pat, whose hair salon went out of business years ago when his clientele jumped ship. There, he’s approached by the lawyer of Rita Parker-Sloan (Linda Evans), Pat’s former high-profile client and best friend.

In a form of reconciliation for having dropped him, Rita bequeathed him $25,000 in exchange for his services: to style her hair for the private viewing. He flatly refuses, almost gleefully smiling at the thought of her (“a demanding Republican monster”) buried with bad ‘do. But what changes his mind—the final straw—is when the nursing staff ransack his room looking for his stash of contraband, More cigarettes, which he smokes with the debonair flair of a Noël Coward character, though he has been recovering from a stroke.

So, he takes his fanny pack and sets out on foot toward Sandusky, where he once reigned supreme—he “did all the socialites of Sandusky back in the day,” according to a rival—and had emceed the local drag show at the town’s one gay bar, the Universal Fruit and Nut Company. It was also where he made a home with his late partner, David. To provide the best for his (dead) customer, he’s on a quest to find the elusive secret ingredient for Rita’s hair, a product called Vivanté, his Holy Grail. Though he discovers he can go home again, it isn’t what it used to be. His favorite haunt, the Fruit and Nut is closing that very night; gays have moved on from bars to meeting online.

Much of the cast brings a freshness and homespun credibility to a story that often takes shortcuts. For example, the 70-something Pat too easily steals anything he wants from a store, including booze, though his movements are obvious, and for his one day of freedom where he has to be at the funeral home by 7 p.m., he seems to have all the time in the world despite the critical deadline. Also, some of the self-conscious actors in the ensemble noticeably don’t quite match the performances of the veterans.

Still, the movie offers something fresh for many of the actors, besides Kier. Cast against type, Jennifer Coolidge (the bubbly best friend in Legally Blonde) coolly plays Pat’s former employer who opened shop across the street and snatched away his customers, including queen bee Rita. And for those who know Evans from her Dynasty days, they are in for surprise. In a scene where Rita is brought back to life, so to speak, Evans has chops that were not always apparent on the prime-time soap.

With its focus on under-represented working-class, older queer folk, and a stubborn and haughty protagonist, think of the movie as the high camp and festive flipside to Nomadland, with a touch of rue.