‘The Unseen Sister’: Tokyo Review | Reviews

Dir: Midi Z. China. 2024. 112 mins.

Cold and queenly, Chinese movie star Qiao Yan (Zhao Liying) guards her privacy ferociously. She trusts nobody, least of all her manager Shen (Huang Jue), whose ingratiating manner hides a hint of desperation – he knows that his fortune is tied to her fickle whims. However, there is a reason for Qiao Yan’s defensiveness: there are secrets in her past.  Midi Z’s thriller has style to spare, and some terrific individual scenes land with the force of a knife to the throat. Where the film is less successful is in tying together these scenes. This is not a film that flows, but rather lurches, somewhat abruptly, through the story. 

A bracingly entertaining, if definitely unpleasant, central character

This is the first mainland Chinese production for Myanmar-born, Taiwan-based filmmaker Midi Z. But in other ways, the picture returns to similar territory to at least one of his previous films, 2019’s Nina Wu. Both pictures deal with the isolation and vulnerability of an actress, and the considerable cost of pursuing stardom. The Unseen Sister is adapted from Zhang Yueran’s novel ’Qiao Sisters’, which has also inspired a hit TV show and the star power of actress Zhao Liying (She’s Got No Name) should raise the film’s profile domestically (it opened in China on October 26th, just ahead of its Tokyo Film Festival Competition screening). But while it’s a handsome production, the film’s disjointed plotting and increasingly ragged final act may hamper its prospects of venturing much beyond the festival circuit.

The arrival in Beijing of her estranged older sister (Zhilei Xin), who has been living in Myanmar for the past seventeen years, threatens to blow the lid off Qiao Yan’s carefully constructed public persona. She’s frosty during the reunion with the sibling she hasn’t seen for nearly two decades, more concerned with what her heavily pregnant sister wants from her than how she is. Even her career fails to rouse her from her ennui. She cares just enough to be supremely catty to a younger female co-star, but otherwise, she’s all out of shits to give.

All of this make Qiao Yan a bracingly entertaining, if definitely unpleasant, character with whom to spend time. In one superb scene, Mr Yu, a wealthy businessman who has invested in her latest movie, hosts a lavish dinner for key members of the film’s team. The centrepiece is a whole lamb, and there is a lengthy palaver about who gets the honour of being the first to cut into the flesh. Qiao Yan gazes into the distance and then, just at the moment that the meat is served, announces, “I’m allergic to lamb.” Mr Yu, who clearly expected some kind of return from his investment, doesn’t take this at all well.

Extortion plots, blackmail, kidnapping, underworld Granny mobsters and double-crossing gangsters make up the body of the picture, but the most satisfying element of the film is the rekindled relationship between Qiao Yan and her sister. Qiao Yan’s lovely, minimal apartment provides a neat visual allegory: at first it’s immaculate, unwelcoming and empty, but Sis soon fills it with clutter, food and love. And Qiao Yan realises that she does care about something after all.