Queens of the Qing Dynasty Review | Long May They Reign

A poignantly enigmatic film built on empathy, longing, understanding, and a unique point of view, Ashley McKenzie’s sophomore feature Queens of the Qing Dynasty is a stunning work made by an artist working at the height of their creative powers. A quantum leap in terms of style, ambition, and substance from McKenzie’s exceptional, but different debut feature, Werewolf, Queens of the Qing Dynasty demands a lot from its audience because it’s centred around a pair of people who often bristle and shy away from the overwhelming weight of the world around them. McKenzie asks the viewer to make a leap of faith and understand facets of human nature that are seen as uncommon; even when the characters themselves don’t seem to fully grasp what’s going on inside their own minds. Queens of the Qing Dynasty is a challenge, but it’s a wholly rewarding one.

After ingesting poison during an apparent suicide attempt, Star (Sarah Walker) has been admitted to a Cape Breton hospital for observation. Star is asexual, possibly bipolar, has an interesting relationship with religion, and is obviously neurodiverse. She has been in and out of hospitals for years and placed on numerous medications, but few of her doctors seem to be listening to her concerns, refusing to read between the lines and parse Star’s unique ways of verbally expressing herself. Star finds an unlikely friend and confidant in An (Ziyin Zheng), a student from Shanghai volunteering at the hospital as a way to further his studies and a means to help secure Canadian citizenship. An is queer, uncomfortable in a male body, and fascinated by astrology and ancient Chinese mythology. Feeling like an outsider himself, An is able to meet Star on her own terms and forge a meaningful relationship.

Queens of the Qing Dynasty demands that the viewer try to understand people who are quite likely nothing like them. The issues, neuroses, and tics exhibited by Star and An are identifiable, but when put together and then forged into a relationship, they become a lot more complex. It could easily overwhelm viewers, but that’s entirely the point. Star and An are overwhelmed to points of visual exhaustion, and McKenzie, Walker, and Zheng do an exemplary job of conveying this point without resorting to shorthand. As An learns how to hear and see Star for who she is, so too does the film try to teach the audience how to connect to these unique and rich characters. It’s like being privy to a secret language shared by only two human beings on the planet.

The title of the film refers to ancient mythology – and in some respects, prophecy – that reflects the loneliness of the characters. Although Star and An talk a lot, much of their relationship is communicated non-verbally, with Walker and Zheng impressively inhabiting the skin of their characters. On their own, each gives a layered, detailed performance that relies just as much on facial expressions and body language as it does their carefully chosen words. The pauses in their reactions are where the greatest truth lies, and the easiest way to decipher meaning and intention. They relay their concerns and wishes for the future to offset the pain and frustration they feel, and when they’re together – whether it’s messing around with gross hospital food in the cafeteria or playing around in a virtual reality game – the actors make sure that this intention and meaning is laid raw and bare, even if some viewers will never fully grasp it.

If Queens of the Qing Dynasty makes some feel lost, uncomfortable, or frustrated while viewing it, that’s because McKenzie needs to convey the gravity these characters feel all the time. Scott Moore’s fully realized cinematography never uses the same shot twice, making the framing a unique reflection of the characters’ frame of view, finding visual meaning in things as simple as snowflakes accumulating on eyelashes or fingernails being ground down to dust in a salon. The sound design is ambitious, propulsive, forceful, and vibrant, sometimes to a point of overwhelming the visuals, which again seems like the point when making a film about people doing everything they can to keep distraction at bay. McKenzie pays close attention to the fixation, stimulation, and infatuation that naturally arises from the material and leans into those emotions with an open mind and heart, folding them nicely into the sometimes ambiguous nature of the characters.

The only real downside to be found here is that while the pace is luxuriant, the running time itself seems a bit indulgent, but that’s forgivable as this seems like a story that requires a lot of space to find balance. As the relationship moves forward, McKenzie threatens to hammer things home with overkill. But just as that seems likely to happen, the action shifts into a new direction and slightly different tone that demands further consideration from the viewer. Queens of the Qing dynasty is quite literally a work that is pushing the boundaries of Canadian cinema.

Queens of the Qing Dynasty opens at TIFF Bell Lightbox in Toronto on Friday, March 3, 2023. It opens at  The Cinematheque in Winnipeg on March 10, VIFF Centre in Vancouver on March 17, and Broadway Theatre in Saskatoon on April 16. It screens at Savoy Theatre in Glace Bay on March 8 & 9, IFFO in Ottawa on March 10, Carbon Arc in Halifax on March 10 & 11, the Bad Buoy Film Society in Baddeck on March 18, at the Al Whittle Theatre in Wolfville on April 1, and Astor Theatre in Liverpool on April 12 & 14. It will expand to additional cities throughout the spring.