Weiqi Meng and the Subtle Social Power of Film

Written by Winston Scott

Filmmaker Weiqi Meng understands the impact of communication, whether it is with others or with ourselves. She uses her skill and fascination with filmmaking to facilitate ideas that the audience can discuss both internally and as a community. These topics often venture into the places we are apprehensive to inhabit but only in seeking them out can we help to become enlightened.

As a director, a writer, and an editor, Weiqi has crafted fascinating situations that dare us to look at ourselves and our participation in situations that can leave substantial impact. The End (on which she served as director, writer, and editor) was an official selection of the Kosice International Film Festival, the California Women’s Film Festival, and was recognized by the London Director Awards as well as the Los Angeles Film Awards (award winner for editing and nominated for Best Picture) while Behind the Pink Door (as editor) received awards from the Birsamunda International Film Festival, Bettiah International Film Festival, and others.

The recognition from the industry regarding these two specific films attest to the social impact and statement of M’s artistry. The enthusiastic embrace of her work is welcomed by Weiqi who states, “I've always wanted to tell stories, but how to tell them has been a journey of exploration. That’s what led me to filmmaking. It allows me to use everything I’ve learned—writing, acting, visual arts, and design—to tell the stories I want to share with others. Every artistic experience I’ve had has shaped the way I create, and filmmaking became the ultimate way to bring it all together.”

  Officially released at the end of 2023, Weiqi’s The End is a deeply insightful tale of humans’ relationship with robots and the emotional space being carved out as this “life-form” becomes an actual part of our modern reality. The film follows a woman who sells taking robots who begins to transfer her sense of purpose to these lifeless machines as isolation and monotony overtakes her. Leaning heavily into the psychological impact of such a situation, the editing is powerful in communicating the perfect tone in the film. Weiqi describes, “For the montage sequence where the main female character sees the same people day after day, and the images start to overlap, leading to her breakdown. I initially staged it simply having the actors repeatedly walk across the frame, emphasizing the monotonous, unchanging nature of her world. The idea of overlapping their movements emerged during editing, adding an extra layer of absurdity.” By stacking the repetitions, the scene visually amplifies the weight of this character’s isolation, turning routine encounters into an overwhelming, inescapable loop. The moment culminates in a dolly shot that pushes in on her face, closing in as if all these distorted realities are physically pressing down on her. 

 Weiqi enhances the director’s vision in Behind the Pink Door, a film about the toxic culture of lookism and perfectionism, with editing that reinforces its themes. At its core, this film is not as much about the ill others do but how we allow it to alter our self-view. It’s a journey of self-discovery. Her editing choice of jump cuts, as Mia contemplates the red markings on her body that Jack has placed there to delineate what he regards as flaws, communicates the fragmented sense of identity. Mia struggles against how the powers of society (with Jack as its proxy) would label her versus a more personal and healthier image. This is perhaps the most prominent scene in the entire film and required a great deal of care to craft. Ms. Meng specifies, “Since the story relies on the audience relating to the main character, every beat had to be carefully constructed to bring them into her perspective. We spent a lot of time selecting the right shots for each scene, making sure every reaction landed with the right impact. It wasn’t just about showing what was happening—it was about making the audience feel it. The way a moment lingers, the exact frame a reaction appears, how one shot flows into the next—all of this shaped the emotional weight of the film. Finding the perfect reactions and placing them in the right rhythm took the most effort. But once everything clicked, it strengthened the connection between the audience and the character, making her experience truly immersive.” Rather than relying on abundant dialogue, the gravitas of this moment is conveyed primarily through the acting and the editing. 

 While these two films illustrate the intent of an artist intent on reflecting the more precarious side of humanity, it’s ironic that Weiqi Meng credits the movie Kung Fu Hustle with sparking her interest as a professional filmmaker. She gleefully declares, “It’s still one of my favorites. What fascinated me the most was its imagination—how it blurred the line between live-action and animation, making reality feel as limitless as a cartoon. One scene that stuck with me was when the landlady was chasing the main character down the road, their legs spinning like wheels. It wasn’t just hilarious—it was visually inventive, like something straight out of animation but seamlessly integrated into live action. It wasn’t just the visuals, either. The sound design played a huge role in creating that cartoonish tone. Before watching Kung Fu Hustle, I had a clear distinction in my mind between live-action and animation. But this film erased that line and showed me how beautifully the two could merge. That realization pushed me to explore different ways of combining media in my own work, embracing absurdity and exaggeration as a tool for storytelling.”

Photo Credit: Bo Yu-Chen