Immigration is undoubtedly a polarizing political issue, and you could argue about whether it’s right or wrong forever, but here’s the thing that usually gets lost in all the debate: basic human compassion. We’re talking about real people whose futures hang in the balance, and sometimes we’re literally talking about life-or-death stakes.
QUEEN(S) is written and directed by East Indian independent filmmaker Anup Kurian, who actually works as a software programmer to pay for his filmmaking passion. This marks my introduction to his work, which offers an empathetic portrayal of Sisi, an East Asian woman in her early 30s, as she navigates the relentless complexity of undocumented life in Queens, New York. Chi Hua Lee-Secci, a first-generation Taiwanese immigrant actor, brings Sisi to life—a resilient woman striving to build a brighter future in a nation itself founded by immigrants.
Early on, we watch her dream of getting legal status quickly dashed when James (Bill Engst), a lonely widower and Sisi’s close ally who’s pretending to be her husband, fails to convince the immigration officer (James Chu). Being an Asian immigrant myself, I could tell immediately that the two were totally unprepared for that interview—they made so many blunders in an unforgiving system that doesn’t give you much wiggle room. I’ve never been undocumented for even a second, but I know how arduous and complicated the immigration process can be.
That interview scene made me cringe, and it broke my heart watching what Sisi goes through. After that botched interview and another run-in with the authorities, Sisi disappears into the shadows and the underground economy. She’s basically living off the grid, resorting to the world’s oldest profession to survive. She picks up under-the-table, cash-only gigs around Queens to stay invisible to the government, somehow she eludes those ruthless Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents. The whole immigration bureaucracy tends to trap people in this endless legal limbo, and the film really nails how brutal it is—the constant waiting and always having to watch your back.
Kurian doesn’t spell everything out for viewers when it comes to how Sisi manages to make her way to the US. We only catch brief glimpses of her past in her rural Chinese hometown. It suggests a tough domestic life that drives her to flee to America by borrowing money from a shady loan shark back in China. That single phone call from a Chinese guy threatening her mom really drives home her financial desperation.
But the movie isn’t all doom and gloom. There’s warmth and humor mixed in, thanks to the women Sisi meets along her perilous journey. Kurian really captures the beauty of female friendship when Sisi shares a tiny room with fellow undocumented women. The ‘can collectors’ welcome her in, and their genuine friendship gives Sisi companionship and a real sense of belonging. Zhang Mei (Dana Byrne) is particularly memorable as one of Sisi’s closest friends; the scene of them enjoying a rare moment of joy in the third act is really moving.
I’m touched by the montage showing the women working together—collecting cans and bottles, washing dishes, making dumplings, cleaning apartments, you name it. They share meals together during a picnic on the lawn of an old abandoned building. They’re all just struggling to get by day after day, and for Sisi, earning money isn’t just about keeping herself afloat in NYC, but she has to ensure her mom is safe from harm from the loan shark back home.
The title itself cleverly has a dual meaning. First, there’s the actual NYC borough location, and then there’s the tight-knit community of immigrant women who basically run their own humble ‘kingdom,’ living like royalty even though they live within the margins of society.
Lee-Secci is terrific in her first feature leading role. There’s a quiet grace and dignity in the way she carries herself. There are plenty of unspoken moments where her eyes do all the talking. She’s got a strong screen presence too—she basically carries the whole two-hour film from start to finish. That said, the pacing does drag a bit. I think this story could’ve been told more efficiently in 90 minutes. Despite that minor quibble, it’s a solid low-budget indie that looks quite polished.
Kurian utilizes music well in the montage moments, and the film is well-shot. I presume Kurian himself is also the DP, as I don’t see one listed on IMDb. A bunch of the shots are pretty artistic—way better than what you’d see in films with ten times the budget.
This film poses thought-provoking questions to the viewers: What does it actually mean to be American? And what happens when the American Dream doesn’t come through for you?
It humanizes the system by redirecting the focus from political rhetoric to lived experience. I appreciate Kurian’s decision to center an East Asian woman, addressing a significant gap in American cinema where stories of undocumented women from this background remain largely untold. Watching this makes me extra grateful for my citizenship status—a privilege I don’t take for granted. I believe in the film’s message that a greater capacity for compassion could substantially shift the country’s polarized conversation around immigration policy.
The Twin Cities premiere of QUEEN(S) marks the launch of the Civic Cinema initiative, a program designed to bridge the gap between cinematic narratives and real-world advocacy by directing 50% of the producers’ box-office revenue share to partner organizations addressing these issues. QUEEN(S) will run for one week at the Emagine Willow Creek movie theater in Plymouth from September 18 to 24, with Civic Cinema programming scheduled throughout the engagement and planned expansion to additional cities nationwide.
The filmmakers selected Minneapolis for the film’s world premiere due to established collaborations with regional advocacy organizations, including but not limited to the Immigrant Law Center of Minnesota and the Twin Cities West Metro Asian Fair. Half of the producers’ box-office revenue share will be allocated to these partner organizations.