what would I do if I had her courage, her ruthlessness, her hunger?
"Where's the fun in following the script?" That's her favourite word.
She’s both. She is a woman stealer, liar and manipulator, and yet, when you look at her on that roof, naked, insecure, you cannot but feel pity towards her……….
There are movies that entertain you, make you laugh, or keep you guessing. But Confidence Queen? It doesn’t just entertain—it seduces you. From the very first frame, it wraps around you like silk, whispering promises of power, beauty, and control, while quietly daring you to ask yourself: what would I do if I had her courage, her ruthlessness, her hunger? Watching it felt like being drawn into a dance where every step is glittering, dangerous, and intoxicating.
It does not start with action, but presence. She does not jump on the screen- she slides. Her walk in a crowded club is tracked in slow, steady pull by the camera, the type of moving, which renders everyone else a background noise. The music is slow, beat, the bass beating as your heart. She does not need to utter a word, as her silence is more than a loud voice of all people talking. And I recall sitting there, and knowing that it was not a con artist tale. It was a movie about an aura something that one can shape a room using nothing but the strength of being.
The initial con is almost like a love scene. She is attacking a man who is too accustomed to being the center of attention in the room. He is rich, smug, lackadaisical with his focus. She slips next to him at the bar, orders a drink that she does not even take a sip of and lets him talk first. And that is the point--she does not pursue. She lets him come to her. And when she laughs at anything little, at raising her head a bit, you know he is hooked. When the fraud actually materializes, the bogged investment pitch, the implication of a small transfer, you are not even angry. You’re impressed. It is so easy, so fluent, it is like art.
And still, it was not the heist that caught me--the time afterward. Her lights are low, and she is alone in her hotel room looking in the mirror. No makeup, no armor. The eyes that are so pretty, and yet so very tired. And that cracked me open. It proved, even to her, that confidence was not this witless stuff that had no end. It is a mask, the one that she shines until it is shiny, but it is too royally difficult to put on. Watching her wipe off her lipstick felt almost more vulnerable than any of the scenes where she risked her life or freedom.
The tension is brought to its peak in the middle act. She becomes larger, seeking not only the signs of greedy wealthy men but also dangerous players that play the game equally as she does it. The ball scene may be a cat-and-mouse scene of the best in years. Imagine her venturing into a room where she sees chandeliers and velvet and wearing black which sticks to her body like liquid shadow. She smiles as though she was a part of it, but you can smell the subtext, one slip up and she is found out. Each talk is a roll of dice, each glass of champagne another opportunity of someone to prove her tale.
There is one point at the gala when she gazes at her competition- this man who appears to know her right through. Their communication does not last long, possibly a few sentences about the piece of art on the display, yet the manner in which the camera is glued onto their faces, you can feel the sparks. Not romantic sparks, but the sparks of two predators circling each other, each being attentive to the other as to who will blink first. And I was sitting there, and I understood that my chest was tight and I was holding my breath without even realizing it.
The rooftop scene comes after, and it floored me. She’s on the edge, literally—leaning against the barrier, the city glittering beneath her. Her rival steps out of the shadows, confronts her, and for the first time, you see her hesitate. Not falter completely, but hesitate. He asks her: Do you even know who you are without the lies? And she doesn’t answer. She just looks away, her confidence flickering like a candle in the wind. That silence said more than any monologue could. Because deep down, she doesn’t know. And neither do we.
The genius of Confidence Queen, though, lies in the fact that it does not make her a villain or a hero. She’s both. She is a woman stealer, liar and manipulator, and yet, when you look at her on that roof, naked, insecure, you cannot but feel pity towards her. Since none has not donned a mask in order to survive a world that requires too much? Everyone has pretended to be confident until it became like a second skin? That was what struck the film so hard to me, it made me see my own masks, my own tricks to survive.
The fourth act is a twist to everything. It is her greatest scheme ever, a scheme that would liberate her permanently. It is all perfect: the fake identities, the drills, a crew that she hardly trusts. It is like watching her weave a web of silver-fibers, all fine but deadly, as she spins it all. But of course, it unravels. Not that she is an inadequate person, but because she allows herself to believe. Just for a second. A single weakness and it will shatter the entire scheme.
The last conflict is not dramatic. It is no great pursuit with sirens screaming. It’s intimate. She is in front of the same person who betrayed her and who is screaming, she simply smiles. A slow, sad smile. And she says, I thought so it would. But was it not beautiful as long as it lasted? That line gutted me. Due to the fact that it was not only about the con. It was concerning the fulfilment of her entire life. It is all beautiful, all temporary, all of it hers, the confidence, the masks, the lies.
The ending leaves her walking away into the night, just her, alone, but still holding her head high. And in that moment, you realize the title isn’t about the cons she pulled. It’s about the way she carried herself through every rise and fall. Confidence wasn’t her tool—it was her crown.
Walking out of that film, I felt torn apart and stitched back together. It dazzled me with its slickness, yes, but what stayed wasn’t the tricks or the scams. It was that mirror scene. That rooftop silence. That final smile. Confidence Queen isn’t really about being untouchable—it’s about how fragile even the strongest masks are, and how sometimes the bravest thing isn’t never breaking, but standing tall even when you know you’re cracked.
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