However well it has aged, the effect of Paul Feig’s Bridesmaids on the American comedy film can’t be overstated. Before it came out there wasn’t much of a space for raunchy female-driven comedy, and it has essentially become a lightning rod for every Trainwreck or Girl’s Trip or Joy Ride that has come since. And I bring it up in the context of Joy Ride because this debut feature from Adele Lim, co-writer of Crazy Rich Asians -itself a major genre ground-shaker, definitely feels very Bridesmaids-y in its approach to both its ensemble and its outrageous tastes. In that there’s a way to pigeonhole this movie as simply the Bridesmaids equivalent for Asian women -a take that’s not only reductive but fails to consider the movie as part of a broader evolution in racy feminine comedy. Joy Ride adds as much to its form as it recycles: a voice, style, and emphasis entirely its own, reflective of a broadening scope for the descendants of that one movie that took the world by storm in 2011. Joy Ride is in the shadow of Bridesmaids, but it is funnier, and that’s fascinating.
It’s a movie that understands itself from the beginning: when two Chinese-American girls meet on a Seattle playground in 1998, a poignancy in them being the only Asian kids in their neighbourhood, interrupted by one of them beating up a racist boy. Beats of sincerity that give way to outright silliness, though without losing their emotional validity. As with many a movie like this, it revolves around a friendship: Audrey (Ashley Park), a lawyer who grew up an adoptee of white parents, and Lolo (Sherry Cola), an amateur sex-positive artist and first-generation daughter of immigrants. The plot sees the pair go to China together, Lolo acting as Audrey’s translator for a business trip, though hoping to search for Audrey’s biological mother while there. Along the way Lolo is tasked with chaperoning her K-pop obsessed cousin Deadeye (Sabrina Wu), and they are joined by Audrey’s college friend Kat (Stephanie Hsu), a popular actress with a history of sexual promiscuity now engaged to a devoutly Christian co-star.
Character tensions and dynamics are well set up -of course there’s a rivalry between Lolo and Kat as Audrey’s best friends from different regions of her life, and Deadeye is the clear and conscious outsider to the group. The hijinks that follow as Audrey is roped into tracking down her mother for the sake of the business partnership, are typically chaotic, though fun in the way that these characters respond to and are defined by them. Lim and co-writers Teresa Hsiao and Cherry Chevapravatdumrong consistently draw out these personalities in an authentic form that can still play broad -especially for Kat and Deadeye, both stereotypes of the diva and nerd respectively, yet characterized with sufficient nuance.
None of this would mean anything obviously without the leads grasping and conveying it adequately -more than adequately in fact, each of the four mains delivers a striking performance that ought to be career-making. Coming off her Oscar nomination, Hsu is the highest profile (though she was cast in this movie well before Everything Everywhere All at Once came out), but Park, Cola, and Wu all make the case for themselves as exciting new stars as well. The film never treats them like they aren’t -giving them the freedom and the confidence of any Kristen Wiig or Tiffany Haddish. Each performance feels lived-in and distinct to the energy of the actress, with Cola and Park perhaps making the biggest impressions -Park, for being the straight-laced foil of the group, gets plenty of extravagant opportunities to stretch her comedic muscles. They all have tremendous chemistry and take to the riotous and raunchy subject matter with aplomb. There is a montage sequence of their individual sexual escapades during a layover with an international basketball team that is one of the funniest things all year.
And for a first-time director, Lim has a strong instinct for comedy filmmaking, servicing well the structure of the movie, which is smart in its consistent build in extremity and usage of a couple very well-played running gags. She hones in on the eccentricities where she can, and while the movie isn’t stylishly very unique, we do get some wild visual adrenaline sequences and a gaudily committed K-pop music video. Then she can turn around and play things straight where the movie requires it, without undergoing much of a jarring tonal shift.
Because the movie has heart -in a contrived way, yes, but that works in the context of Lim’s direction and the authenticity underlining the performances and writing. The friendship, cultural alienation, and identity issues that are brought up are rooted in a place of emotional honesty -ringing true even as the circumstances that lead to them don’t. And Park, who shoulders most of this aspect of the movie, is very good at hitting those sweet beats along Audrey’s journey of heritage and self-discovery.
Sadly, it’s a very shallow journey of heritage outside of this personal arc, as the movie misses a lot of opportunities –both for drama and comedy- to explore Chinese culture and the intricacies of the relationship the Chinese diaspora has to China itself. The movie doesn’t seem much compelled by those themes sitting right on the periphery of the story to be explored. And in fact China is far more incidental overall than expected. None of the major comic set-pieces are inherently tied to the characters being in China –two of them in fact deliberately situate the cast among majority English-speaking characters: an American drug mule played by Meredith Hagner and a basketball team led by real NBA All-Star Baron Davis. The most prominent Chinese characters they interact with are a businessman played by Ronny Chieng, and Lolo’s grandmother played by Lori Tan Chinn, both of whom are fairly Westernized archetypes and mostly speak English anyway. Even Kat’s co-star fiancé is a fellow American. The movie was not shot in China obviously, which probably accounts for some of this sidestepping around actually representing the country or its culture. Still, it could have done more than depict China as just an aesthetic backdrop for this quartet of tourists. Ultimately it’s Korea that plays a more consequential role, given the narrative prominence of K-pop, and Seoul being the critical setting for the last act’s emotional catharsis.
That the movie manages to be a good time in spite of this just speaks to the commendable quality of its performances, direction, humour, and heart. Yes, it’s not in any way particularly original and belongs to a very clear American comedy tradition. But it’s fun and chaotic, and thrillingly energized by a delightful cast giving their all and who you just want to see more of. Joy Ride is the comedy of the summer –for as much as that means these days.
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