Henry O'Brien
The modern global gig economy has already, aside from creating cycles of inequality where no one has an actual job (shoutout to all my freelance film critics out there), produced some fine cinematic works. David Fincher’s sleekly designed 2023 action thriller The Killer focuses on how an economy of DoorDashes and Amazons can be tailor-made for assassins. Meanwhile, Radu Jude’s film festival darling of that same year, Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World, depicts a Romanian production assistant forcing herself to take on various jobs and identities, particularly one as an Andrew Tate-esque influencer, in order to make ends meet. The role of the influencer, whether on TikTok or YouTube, is a clear byproduct of a gig economy.
As more of the great auteurs of our time focus on this economic outlook, some of the most enlightening perspectives can come from independent cinema. The Ego Death of Queen Cecilia, which premiered at the 2024 Austin Film Festival, depicts this exact state of the world near the Texas-Mexico border. The film, directed by Chris Beier, follows a has-been YouTuber, Cecilia (Jo Schaeffer in her acting debut), falling deep into the criminal underworld to capture her prior popularity. Although Beier’s directorial feature debut came together on a “shoestring budget,” according to the Austin Film Festival’s description of the film, it underscores the level of oppression that comes with an economy that simultaneously awards and punishes influencers.
From the beginning, we see Cecilia take part in one of the most well-known gig economy tasks—delivering Amazon packages. But Schaeffer immediately makes it clear, both through her scowl and her posture, that she finds this work beneath her. To Cecilia, delivering nice shoes to wealthy folks’ houses feels like such a step down from her previous success online. The initial quiet moments of Cecilia delivering packages and sitting in her car communicate frustration that makes the film feel so rooted to our current economic condition: less outward rage toward the system, more of a feeling of your soul being crushed. There is plenty of on-the-nose dialogue, but Schaeffer’s ability to portray anger makes her an intriguing presence at the center of the film.
The Ego Death of Queen Cecilia employs a non-linear narrative to show her decade-long decline from success, raking in money as an influencer before eventually relying on her sister for loans in order to stay afloat. But even in the black-and-white flashback sequences, including a scene where Cecilia is on an influencer panel due to her fame, there is a level of understatement that ironically pushes back against her delusions of grandeur. In the panel, Cecilia declares, “I’m the queen, bitch!” And yet, the film never displays how big of an audience she reaches, both in the panel auditorium and online, hinting that Cecilia’s time at the so-called top may have been a mirage all along.
Years later, as her subscriber numbers have dwindled, however, Cecilia needs to find more work and hopes to seek the help of a talent agency that helps internet influencers regain subscribers and fans. In such dire financial straits and essentially estranged from her sister, Cecilia eventually has to turn to criminal activities in order to make the initial payment to the talent agency.
This is where the film starts to show its warts and weaknesses. The Ego Death of Queen Cecilia quickly morphs into a crime drama where our influencer hero tries to frame a fellow influencer, who has connections with some criminal organization. It’s an interesting choice to connect the role of an influencer to a life of crime, possibly highlighting how social media influencers and criminals are all a response to capitalist structures. But the film is riddled with clichéd characters, including the bruising criminal heavy who Cecilia must work for.
Additionally, Cecilia pesters the talent agency, demanding to know if she has the stuff to be a superstar. The forceful dialogue about wanting to be a star feels so tired, even if it comes from the rather unique occupation of being an online influencer.
Beier’s debut feels much more interesting when it examines and dissects what it’s like to be a cog in the machine of a larger socio-economic system. While The Ego Death of Queen Cecilia features Western shootouts, the feeling of quiet death that can define our influencer economy rings much more profoundly.
