Sweat The Technique
A marvelous display of technical skill in the small film Queens of the Qing Dynasty
At a screening of Queens of the Qing Dynasty, at New York City’s Metrograph last week, The Middlebrow shifted in his seat, looked away from the screen and muttered wisecracks, only to realize during a late lunch afterwards with The Scholar Wife that the film had presented a challenge and that challenges can refresh perspectives.
The movie is about a Canadian teen named Star, hospitalized after a toxic suicide attempt, who befriends An, a genderqueer immigrant from Shanghai, who is assigned to oversee her health and safety while doctors and social workers try to reintegrate her into the outside world. Star is an intelligent, neurodivergent young woman who has been severely traumatized and poorly medicated. An is a gentle soul who dreams of being a favored wife of royalty in the Qing Dynasty. The two share escapist fantasies of becoming “trophy wives” that the world will care for.
This is writer/director Ashley McKenzie’s second feature and it is deliberately stylized to portray the altered consciousness of its protagonist. The pace is slow and real. The dialogue is sparse and pointed. The emotional relationships between characters are told through the lens of Star’s perception, which can alienate audiences accustomed to spoon-feeding. There’s also some body horror in the hospital, tied to medical procedures that follow a stomach pumping. There’s very little humor or action to let the audience off the hook. McKenzie’s characters don’t get many breaks and neither does the audience. But this makes for a daring moviegoing experience as the movie stays with you and swirls about the mind.
McKenzie’s direction emphasizes Star’s unique point of view, with shots that pull close onto her eyes, so that the audience sees her gaze, rather than the object of it, which lets the viewer experience a bit of Star’s disassociation.
McKenzie’s cast deliver understated but poignant performances, each an alien in modern Canada, trying to find space to live without losing themselves. It’s an amazing achievement in minimalist performance where the actors create a sense of gravity and worry by not playing for laughs or shocks. Even the body horrors of some of the hospital scenes are presented in a straight forward way that adds to their disturbing effect.
For New Yorkers, the film opens today (May 5, 2023) at Metrograph (7 Ludlow Street). Consider purchasing a membership as it include Metrograph at Home streaming, which is one of the most unique collections art and historical films you’ll find since the death of the independent video store.