Joh: Last King of Queensland review: a spot-on Stan documentary

Joh: Last King of Queensland opens with a flurry of present-day faces in black & white, intercut with archival footage of the late Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen. Immediately there’s a contrast: Joh is a solid, constant presence, shaking hands and waving at various political events, while those commenting on him can’t even agree on the basics.

Was he a political innovator or (as one person calls him) ‘a deadshit’ bumbler who couldn’t string three coherent words together or a savvy operator who reflected the will of his state?

Director Kriv Stenders has a secret weapon in his attempt to nail down the man who ruled Queensland for 19 years: Richard Roxburgh, who here plays Joh in his final days in power – a period, we’re told, that ended with him being voted out by his own team, after which he locked himself in his office and wouldn’t come out.

Watch the Joh: Last King of Queensland trailer.

That doesn’t stop Roxburgh’s Joh from reflecting on his past though, and his role for much of this documentary is to comment on the life story that’s being told through more traditional means … though what he’s saying is often a bit more coherent than anything the real Joh uttered in public.

Joh himself never quite got over his childhood working on the farm, where Bible studies and clearing paddocks was pretty much all he did – he didn’t drink, smoke, visit the pub, dance, or have much of a social life.

An early investment in a tractor quickly led to a business ploughing other people’s fields; his idea of stringing an anchor chain between two tractors to knock down trees soon had him clearing hundreds of acres and getting rich in the process.

Post-World War II, Queensland was run by the Labor party. Joh’s clients urged him to move into politics to represent them, and Joh – constantly striving to prove himself the equal (or better) of those with fancier educations – jumped at the chance.

A relatively solitary man until he married in his late 30s, he found in Flo a partner who shared his conservative and religious views. Then when the LNP took power, Joh’s ability to criss-cross the state in his small plane was vital to maintaining their hold on power – and when he became the Minister for Works and Housing, all the MP’s he’d met across the state came to him for developments in their electorates.

He was a man with many friends, which would soon come in handy.

All of this is covered relatively quickly: the real meat of this documentary comes when Joh takes power, with the backing of a Country Party largely indebted to him. Even then it wasn’t a unanimous choice; some saw him as a lightweight, others were concerned about what him leading the state would mean.

They’d soon find out: zooming in on a close-up of him grinning while an expert describes him as ‘very deceptive’ gives you a good idea of where things are heading.

Stenders is a skilled storyteller and he has plenty to work with here. As history goes this is solid stuff, juggling archival footage and photographs while people ranging from his immediate family to political colleagues and those who stood against him give their two cents alongside historians (usually the sinking the boot in) who provide further insights and commentary.

For such a divisive figure Stenders does a good job bringing in voices from all sides. It might be hard to side with Joh’s vision for Queensland, let alone the often harsh reality, but there’s still plenty of people who’ll talk him up personally, or at least talk down his enemies.

Support for Joh clearly ran deep, and it’s interesting to see current-day politicians are still happy to praise what they see as his strengths.

It’s as a drama that this strikes out for fresh territory, with Roxburgh taking centre stage (literally: he’s strutting around in an empty lecture hall that resembles a boxing ring) to give Joh’s blustery side of the story. Physically Roxburgh gets closer than you might expect; there’s even a faint resemblance with the younger Joh.

He wasn’t going to give power up easily (or at all), and the growing corruption in the state suited him just fine in many ways. Unsurprisingly then, the bulk of this documentary is a litany of conflicts of interest, police sleaze and violence, blatant racism, dodgy business deals, and a willingness to use threats and action to create a state that made some feel safe, and crushed others underfoot.

Personally Joh was seen as a modest, unpretentious type who was very popular amongst his supporters – people who felt ignored or pushed aside by the moods of the time. ‘We’re not Australians, we’re Queenslanders’ was his pitch, taking on Canberra was his brand.

The extensive use of archive footage gives us a comprehensive view of how Joh was seen at the time. Roxburgh’s performance attempts to provide a look at the blustery, self-serving man behind the almost cartoony image.

Most importantly of all: he gets the voice spot on.

Joh: Last King of Queensland premieres on Stan 22 June 2025.

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