Fire island is quietly revolutionary by giving us a queer romance without a hint of gay trauma, coming out or any of the tropes we’ve seen countless times over. As much as the titular location brings up images of a specific kind of queer person (rich, white, abs), it’s also a magical place where queer people can simply exist. When the ferry begins its approach to Fire Island, a remix of “Pure Imagination” gently floats in the background, welcoming its guests to their own wonderland of freedom and paradise. Because Fire Island, AKA the Gay Disney World, is a place of freedom where queer people can flee the heteronormative world and, in the words of one of the characters in Fire Island, not see a straight person for a week.

The truth of the matter, though, is that Fire Island also operates on its own currency, one that’s unfortunately prevalent within the queer community itself. It’s like a microcosm of queerness, filled with all the chocolatey delights you’d expect from Willy Wonka, but hiding an underbelly of privilege, racism and phobias.

Noah (Joel Kim Booster), our plucky lead who also narrates the film, says it best: “In our community, money isn’t the only form of currency. Race, masculinity, abs…just a few of the metrics we use to separate ourselves from upper and lower classes.” In other words, what a perfect location to explore the class and wealth dynamics Jane Austen’s oft-adapted novel Pride and Prejudice also explores. Noah is Austen’s Lizzie to Howie (Bowen Yang)’s Jane, a couple of queer men who met at a disastrous brunch job ten years ago and remained fast friends since. Noah is ripped and constantly shirtless, his body attempting to make up for the “no fats, no fems, no Asians” bigotry that some queer men espouse. He doesn’t believe in love and is just looking for his next hookup. When things get too complicated, he bolts, such as in the opening of the film where he narrates to the audience that the man in his bed is looking at him with boyfriend eyes and that just won't do.

Howie is the opposite. He’s quiet, nerdy and looking to swoon. He complains that he’s 30 and has never had a boyfriend, nor been in a relationship before. He wants his romantic comedy. And Noah, being the good friend he is, decided that on their annual pilgrimage to Fire Island, he will not hook up until Howie does. Joining them is their chosen family of token white guy Luke (Matt Rogers), Keegan (Tomas Matos), Max (Torian Miller) and Erin (Margaret Cho), their den mother who, through a lawsuit against an Italian chain restaurant, won enough money to buy her home on Fire Island.

Every year, they make the trip to reconnect with Erin and each other and hopefully get into some frisky trouble. Unfortunately, this is probably going to be their last year because Erin is broke and needs to sell the house. The underlying aspect of wealth simmers just below everything, with Noah saying that “we’re poor. Not like poor-poor but no chance of buying property ever.”

At the other end of the spectrum is Charlie (James Scully), a doctor, and his own group of rich friends, including Will (Conrad Ricamora), a lawyer. They are the Charles Bingely and Mr. Darcy of Austen’s book, and have a run in with Noah’s group at the Tea Dance, where Charlie immediately is smitten by Howie. The standoffish Will is overly protective of Charlie and sees Howie as a hanger-on who’s not interested in in Charlie, but his wealth. And, of Noah, he’s more pointed: “He’s not hot enough to be that annoying.” But underneath that rough exterior lies a man who’s also dealt with bigotry and failed relationships and is simply protecting his (and Charlie’s) heart.

If you’re familiar with any of the upteenth adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, you know where this is going. And the script by star Joel Kim Booster doesn’t set about upending or subverting those expectations. This is a romantic comedy, through and through. But Booster’s script is alternately savagely funny and poignantly heartfelt, as it moves through the Austen conventions and tackles various aspects of queer dating. The direction by Andrew Ahn (Spa Night) keeps the action moving and gets in a few visual gags. It’s a cooly directed film, one that allows jokes to linger appropriately, but also knows when to move things along at a good clip, marrying a more classical approach to cinema you’d expect from Pride and Prejudice with modern romantic comedy conventions.

While it’s not the complete focus of the film, Fire Island does a good job of putting you in Noah’s group’s shoes, as they fight the external racism and bigotry from their fellow queers as well as their own internalized phobias that the queer community has foisted upon them. When the group first goes to meet Charlie at a friend’s palatial home, the host Braden (Aiden Wharton)–it’s always a Braden–greets the ragtag group (shirtless, abs on display, natch) with a dismissive, “Can I help you?” This is a refrain that continues throughout the film, every time they run into the character. Just before this initial diss, as the group rounds the corner to the mansion, Keegan exclaims, “we can’t go over there. We’re literal trash.”

This film is a literal joy of a movie. I was initially nervous because of the trailer, which quick-cut from joke to joke and seemed to miss the heart or the actual story that was being told. But the finished product sings and elicited more than a few barking laughs from me. And when it’s not throwing jokes or visual gags at the audience, it’s skewering some of the problems within the queer community all while exploring the importance of a found family. Not since Clueless has a Jane Austen adaptation been so funny, modern and keenly aware of its conventions.