Berlinale 2015: Queen of Earth

Director: Alex Ross Perry
Cast: Elisabeth Moss, Katherine Waterston, Patrick Fugit
Length: 90 minutes
Country: USA

Alex Ross Perry’s films are marked by their inability to compromise to conventional expectations; he doesn’t really create likeable characters – they are petty, passive aggressive and psychologically damaged – but he always makes sure they’re compelling. Queen of Earth is another example of an uniquely misanthropic voice, an intriguing drama that uses the horror/thriller genre to his own inquisitive ends.

The masterful score by Keegan DeWitt really sets the tone, which features moody synths, haunting minimalism and atonality to suggest that things aren’t going to end merrily. Catherine (Elisabeth Moss) has just gone through a break-up, a sad state of affairs compounded by the suicide of her artist father. Her best friend Virginia (Katherine Waterston) takes her to her parent’s lake house, with the idea that some peace and quiet might cheer her up. Have you ever noticed how this has never been a good idea in the history of film? This is no exception. Things are fractured and ominous from the start, as Perry combines the highly snarky and argumentative dialogue that characterised his previous features with the highly suggestive film language of horror movies.

One telling shot that repeats itself throughout the film is filming one of the girls through the banisters, suggesting entrapment. When Rich (Patrick Fugit), a mean layabout from next door who sleeps with Virginia, turns up, possibly reminding Catherine of her previous boyfriend, the tension builds to an unbearable level. The passing days are ominously stated for us on the screen, and I awaited eagerly for the climactic day when it all falls apart.

The direction is very assured, and the performances (Moss especially) are nothing short of extraordinary, but it ended on a bum note that left me, and many others in the cinema, rather puzzled.

The best horror movies (even though this is more akin to Persona than Rosemary’s Baby) use the genre in order to express psychological fears, and Queen of Earth employs it extremely well as a way to get under his characters’ skin. Interspersed with the present are flashbacks to the previous summer, when the two girls’ roles were reversed; Virginia was the one going through a hard time, whilst Catherine was the one enjoying a happy, if cloying, relationship. Perry exploits the irony of what one says in the past rather well, presenting the girls as pendulums to each other’s emotions.  At times it appears to be influenced by Fassbinder – with the chamber drama premise, extreme close-ups, and extensive monologues – but it is through dialogue I would argue Perry is most accomplished, at times reminiscent of Woody Allen’s Husbands and Wives. Rarely is watching people snipe and argue at each other more enjoyable. The two girls play on each other’s weaknesses, imitate each other, and resent each other’s happiness. Some friendships are so strong they don’t bend. They break.

However, despite interesting me throughout, it never reached the emotional catharsis it deserved. The direction is very assured, and the performances (Moss especially) are nothing short of extraordinary, but it ended on a bum note that left me, and many others in the cinema, rather puzzled. Nevertheless, it’s more proof of Perry’s idiosyncratic voice, refusing to conform to genre stereotypes. Having changed genre each time he makes a film – the step here like moving from Annie Hall to Interiors – his inventiveness is astounding. Nowhere near perfect, it kept me intrigued from beginning to end.

Image source: berlinale.de