Queen of EarthThere are two aphorisms which come to mind when I think of Alex Ross Perry's psychological melodrama, Queen of Earth. The first is "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" and the second, "with friends like these, who needs enemies"; notice what they have in common? I don't suppose that there is anyone out there who can genuinely claim to have a deep relationship with someone without an iota of conflict, as getting to know someone deeper than the superficial surface requires by definition crossing some boundaries, breaking the skin, testing the water...knowing where it hurts.
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Queen of Earth begins with a long, protracted shot of Catherine (Elisabeth Moss) in the midst of emotional turmoil, upset and crying at her boyfriend for breaking up with her. The camera stares at her, scrutinizing her, a quality which speaks of her anxiety and abandonment issues which surface in the story. To cope, Catherine goes into "exile" as she calls it at the lake house which belongs to the aunt and uncle of her "best friend", Virginia (Katherine Waterston), who also joins her on her retreat. But Catherine comes across as recalcitrant, sinking deeper and deeper into isolation, blocking out Virginia when she tries to pry open her shell. Their time way from the world at large becomes increasingly tense with the incursion of Virginia's lover and neighbor, the sycophantic, condescending Rich (Patrick Fugit), who prods and provokes Catherine on the principle that she must be a "spoiled brat". As the days unfold, there are flashbacks to Catherine and Virginia's time at the lake house the previous year, when the tables were turned, and it was Virginia who was aloof and curt with Catherine and her boyfriend, James (Kentucker Audley), who behaved toward "Ginny" with the same maddening obsequiousness as Rich does to Catherine. The atmosphere between Catherine and Virginia is at times so tense that you could cut it with a knife, and occasionally explodes in caustic displays of passive-aggressiveness and venomous banter. The sense of depression and emotional rawness is conveyed not only in the women's discourse, but in more subtle ways, such as the way sound is used: a bag of potato chips is jarringly loud, as if grating on Catherine's nerves, and some dialogue is soft, like a whisper, and other words burst in an explosion of volume. Even the vibrant, natural light reflected off of the surface of the lake, bleeding through the trees, is not soothing but oppressive, like a terrible migraine that will not abandon your skull. To an extent, some of Catherine's distress comes not so much from her abandonment by James, but at the passing of her father, himself a gifted artist--by Catherine's admission--who himself was "afflicted" by depression and ended his life. Catherine's macabre "portrait" of him--transformed into a skull by her hand--is a reminder of his ubiquitous presence in her mind, and his death.
While Queen of Earth is a drama, it is filled with moments which allude to aspects of a thriller and a style of filmmaking more reminiscent of the Seventies. The titles--in the font and the coloration, and in the case of the closing credits, the arrangement--recall the works of German filmmaker, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, whose work consisted of a variety of melodramas, especially those of his "BRD Trilogy", all three films featuring women as protagonists, who remind me to an extent of Catherine and Virginia in how they tackle their dilemmas. The musical score echoes Stanley Kubrick's The Shining--as do the daily titles--itself a tense story of a small group shut into a claustrophobic environment, pushed to the point of psychological fracture. And the ultimate battle of egos between Catherine and Virginia--including their petty revenges--wears the mask of Ingmar Bergman's seminal psychological drama, Persona. Queen of Earth is wisely vague about assigning blame in this drama, but leaves the door open to interpretation as to why events have spiraled so far out of control for Catherine by the end. Is the reason for Catherine's emotional disintegration this year a result of, as Virginia observes, her reliance on men like her father and James and subsequent abandonment, something she is incapable of handling? That she is, in fact, an attention hog, a "spoiled brat", acting out in childish ways? Perhaps she doesn't have the thick skin of her friend, Virginia, who comments on how she is quick to "cut away" bad relationships from her life with apparent abandon. Or, is a significant degree of Catherine's suffering due directly to Virginia? It is never expressly stated how Catherine came to return to the lake house, but it is reasonable to expect that Virginia invited her there; there is the suggestion that this is a yearly event, albeit one fraught with emotional turbulence. Does Virginia invite Catherine over knowing that she can take advantage of her "friend's" depression to tear her down from her perch? Perhaps that was even the intention, although there are moments where if this were so, Ginny comes to regret this. Virginia reveals herself to be arrogant and vindictive, even classifying people in her life as "friends" or "enemies", no room for middle ground. ("Let she who is without sin", indeed...)
Queen of Earth is filled with great moments of tense, intimate drama, convincing scenes of human emotion too often only hinted at in most films. A favorite episode is at the end of Sunday night, when Catherine and Virginia are sitting side by side, sharing stories about how they have been victims of their relationships with men. The camera slowly edges from one to another, not laboring to remain on the character telling the story, but gravitating toward the recipient of the story, who absorbs it and makes it a part of her. This creates a sense of symbiotic harmony and sympathy between these two friends, more eloquently expressed than words could. But counter this with another harrowing encounter for Catherine following a trip on a canoe with Ginny and Rich, when Virginia throws a house party for a bunch of young, rich socialites, friends of Virginia's--and probably Rich's--but certainly not Catherine's. After nearly choking on some potato chips, Catherine is swarmed by a swath of hands, as she collapses into a fetal position on the floor, overwhelmed and panic stricken, screaming, all while Virginia glides like a shadow covered in a hood across the scene, as if she were the director of some revenge play. Maybe this is Virginia's way of gleaning a kind of vampiric retribution for being humiliated the year prior, or maybe that is the perception Catherine has, her own perspective warped by mental strain. But both moments are honest in the emotions they convey; what is harrowing is that they seem so legitimate for Catherine, as divergent as they are. And there is a moment following a discourse and disagreement about a phone call, when Virginia retorts to Catherine that they're "from the same place". In this moment, it sounds as though Virginia is trying to sympathize with Catherine, but what is also there--under the surface of that phrase--is that these two friends are not from the same walks of life. This barrier--and others like it--will ultimately keep them from being the friends they thought they were. There is also the sense that Catherine and Virginia behave differently when they have a man in their lives; they both show signs of jealousy for attention, and dismiss their male companions' failings, when they should redress the offenses of their men at behaving rudely to their friend. Maybe it's true that relationships like these can compromise a friendship, and maybe some people shouldn't be friends to begin with, if hurting one another is the only way to seek satisfaction for perceived offenses. The things Virginia said to Catherine come back to haunt her one year later, and the specter of these memories lingers like an odor in the air, or cigarette ash caked into the carpet...a stain that alters everything. Cherish your friends, for what goes around, comes around.
Recommended for: Fans of a complex and exciting psychological drama about two convincingly realistic women, so much so that you may have friends like Catherine and/or Virginia. There is a sharpness and authenticity to Queen of Earth which gives it a refreshing naturalism.
While Queen of Earth is a drama, it is filled with moments which allude to aspects of a thriller and a style of filmmaking more reminiscent of the Seventies. The titles--in the font and the coloration, and in the case of the closing credits, the arrangement--recall the works of German filmmaker, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, whose work consisted of a variety of melodramas, especially those of his "BRD Trilogy", all three films featuring women as protagonists, who remind me to an extent of Catherine and Virginia in how they tackle their dilemmas. The musical score echoes Stanley Kubrick's The Shining--as do the daily titles--itself a tense story of a small group shut into a claustrophobic environment, pushed to the point of psychological fracture. And the ultimate battle of egos between Catherine and Virginia--including their petty revenges--wears the mask of Ingmar Bergman's seminal psychological drama, Persona. Queen of Earth is wisely vague about assigning blame in this drama, but leaves the door open to interpretation as to why events have spiraled so far out of control for Catherine by the end. Is the reason for Catherine's emotional disintegration this year a result of, as Virginia observes, her reliance on men like her father and James and subsequent abandonment, something she is incapable of handling? That she is, in fact, an attention hog, a "spoiled brat", acting out in childish ways? Perhaps she doesn't have the thick skin of her friend, Virginia, who comments on how she is quick to "cut away" bad relationships from her life with apparent abandon. Or, is a significant degree of Catherine's suffering due directly to Virginia? It is never expressly stated how Catherine came to return to the lake house, but it is reasonable to expect that Virginia invited her there; there is the suggestion that this is a yearly event, albeit one fraught with emotional turbulence. Does Virginia invite Catherine over knowing that she can take advantage of her "friend's" depression to tear her down from her perch? Perhaps that was even the intention, although there are moments where if this were so, Ginny comes to regret this. Virginia reveals herself to be arrogant and vindictive, even classifying people in her life as "friends" or "enemies", no room for middle ground. ("Let she who is without sin", indeed...)
Queen of Earth is filled with great moments of tense, intimate drama, convincing scenes of human emotion too often only hinted at in most films. A favorite episode is at the end of Sunday night, when Catherine and Virginia are sitting side by side, sharing stories about how they have been victims of their relationships with men. The camera slowly edges from one to another, not laboring to remain on the character telling the story, but gravitating toward the recipient of the story, who absorbs it and makes it a part of her. This creates a sense of symbiotic harmony and sympathy between these two friends, more eloquently expressed than words could. But counter this with another harrowing encounter for Catherine following a trip on a canoe with Ginny and Rich, when Virginia throws a house party for a bunch of young, rich socialites, friends of Virginia's--and probably Rich's--but certainly not Catherine's. After nearly choking on some potato chips, Catherine is swarmed by a swath of hands, as she collapses into a fetal position on the floor, overwhelmed and panic stricken, screaming, all while Virginia glides like a shadow covered in a hood across the scene, as if she were the director of some revenge play. Maybe this is Virginia's way of gleaning a kind of vampiric retribution for being humiliated the year prior, or maybe that is the perception Catherine has, her own perspective warped by mental strain. But both moments are honest in the emotions they convey; what is harrowing is that they seem so legitimate for Catherine, as divergent as they are. And there is a moment following a discourse and disagreement about a phone call, when Virginia retorts to Catherine that they're "from the same place". In this moment, it sounds as though Virginia is trying to sympathize with Catherine, but what is also there--under the surface of that phrase--is that these two friends are not from the same walks of life. This barrier--and others like it--will ultimately keep them from being the friends they thought they were. There is also the sense that Catherine and Virginia behave differently when they have a man in their lives; they both show signs of jealousy for attention, and dismiss their male companions' failings, when they should redress the offenses of their men at behaving rudely to their friend. Maybe it's true that relationships like these can compromise a friendship, and maybe some people shouldn't be friends to begin with, if hurting one another is the only way to seek satisfaction for perceived offenses. The things Virginia said to Catherine come back to haunt her one year later, and the specter of these memories lingers like an odor in the air, or cigarette ash caked into the carpet...a stain that alters everything. Cherish your friends, for what goes around, comes around.
Recommended for: Fans of a complex and exciting psychological drama about two convincingly realistic women, so much so that you may have friends like Catherine and/or Virginia. There is a sharpness and authenticity to Queen of Earth which gives it a refreshing naturalism.