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Shortcomings is a Bitter Pill, But a Refreshing One


If his feature directing debut Shortcomings is anything to go on, Randall Park’s got a pretty interesting voice for the indie dramedy space. Granted, a lot of the unique and cynical tone of the film comes from its writer Adrian Tomine, adapting his own 2007 graphic novel about an Asian-American movie buff with deep relationship issues. Still, Park takes to the material very well, its rough-around-the-edges humour and compelling though often loathsome protagonist included. He understands the assignment, and seems to at least on some level share what appears to be Tomine’s overarching philosophy here.
The movie opens on a movie, starring Stephanie Hsu and Ronny Chieng as a wealthy Asian couple  triumphing over their white antagonist by buying his hotel. It’s a fairly derivative, manipulative end to a supposedly empowering film, and Justin H. Min’s Ben Tanaka, a spectator in the audience, says as much to his friends afterwards, even as they don’t see it, lauding it for its important representation. It even leads to an argument with Ben’s girlfriend Miko (Ally Maki). And though he’s obnoxious about it, the message is clear. Asian representation in movies is a good thing, but too often it’s overly pristine and polished -idealized. Where is the messy Asian-American representation in cinema?
That is where Shortcomings comes in. A movie that, if nothing else, completely defies any notion or manufactured image of Asian-American virtuosity and the model minority -and not in the outrageous subversive way of Joy Ride (with which it shares a leading actor). This movie is more tough and cutting, it’s humour a little abrasive and uncomfortable as it deals in the personality and relationship drama of a guy who is often a prick. Ben manages a second-run art-house theatre in Berkeley, California after letting slip his dreams of becoming a filmmaker himself. Expressing his emotional rut through constant sarcasm and condescension surprisingly doesn’t endear him to his girlfriend -already disconnecting from him due to a combination of his disinterest in her life and feelings, and his general attitude. As they fall apart and he embarks on new potential romances, his only real comfortable relationship is with his lesbian best friend Alice (Sherry Cola) -someone who seems, though critically isn’t, just as aimless as he is.
Coming to this movie as an opinionated critic and film lover, and who relates deeply to such things illustrated as watching Ozu’s Good Morning for comfort food or having Cassavetes’ Faces on in the background as one ponders their own relationship status, is difficult. Ben would not be out of place in the annals of film twitter, in the snarky film discourse that consumes a lot of the sectors of online movie fandom of which I and other critics and essayists frequently occupy. It would be easier if he were a reactionary film bro type, but he’s not; he is at least putting on the airs of somebody who cares about the art, technique, and politics of modern cinema. There’s even a scene where he ribs a co-worker for liking a bunch of Marvel movies -said co-worker is played by Jacob Batalon, who in the movie’s only winking reference, responds by defending the recent Spider-Man movies (and of course Park’s own appearances in the MCU must be remembered). While it could be tempting to look at this in concert with Ken’s behaviour as a broad-strokes caricature, it seems clear enough that Park and perhaps Tomine empathize with his passions, though not his expression. And we in the online space know too well how there are people who can let their frustrations with things like art boil over in toxic ways into their personality. It’s at least partially what has warped Ken’s outlook into a deeply cynical one, unable to comprehend anything seriously or take responsibility for his effect on others.
And it makes him an interesting and really subversive protagonist. Min is excellent here in a significant departure from the kind of roles he usually plays. He is allowed to be authentically grounded and charismatic, seemingly mindful and sensitive, in that endearing way of a lot of indie romantic leads. Yet he constantly alludes to that inability for self-reflection, that fear-informed ineptness at dealing with the apparent end of a relationship. Post-Miko, he pursues a young new employee (Tavi Gevinson), only for the attraction to be proven shallow when he is turned off by her eccentric personality and performance art. Another love interest, Sasha (Debby Ryan) is still emotionally attached to a previous relationship, a genuine issue, but one which Ken can only respond to with dismissal and bitterness. This behaviour builds and gets especially egregious in the third act where he is poised to lose both Alice to her new home and relationship in New York, and Miko to a more fulfilling relationship with a white guy, whom he accuses of sexually fetishizing Miko -all while being unwilling to address his own apparent preference for white women.
Through it all, Park emphasizes a light tone, an endearingly friendly banter between Ken and Alice, that obscures a certain appalling sharpness. Not until they are removed from their familiar contexts, does their conservation appear mean-spirited, for as much as they like each other. This kind of shift from a subjective to objective perspective pertaining to Ken’s personality is used to great effect in the climax. But around these scenes, there is a sharp, even thrilling energy reminiscent of something like Seinfeld –also a comedy about awful people filtered through a palatable lens. Sherry Cola is a big part of why this works -her buoyantly sarcastic sensibility just naturally diffuses tension, as was proven by Joy Ride. Yet she also demonstrates a strong capacity for warm authenticity. The rest of the cast is great: Maki plays well the beleaguered partner, delivering a pretty perfect speech of righteous indignation in the last act. Sonoya Mizuno plays Alice’s eventual girlfriend Meredith with real sensitivity, and as a love interest for Miko, Timothy Simons is absolutely hysterical in his pair of scenes.
Structurally, the film has some notable pacing issues, specifically around the passage of time, which is very inconsistent. Alice leaves for New York, and by the time Ben gets there, it could’ve been anywhere between a week and six months. Over the span of the movie, Ben and Miko haven’t officially broken up, but so much happens in each of their lives in that time that would imply at least a certain unrealistic longevity. Is Ben just clinging on for a year or more? Additionally, the fluctuations in tone can be a bit jarring with some of the techniques Park employs, including the cheery chapter titles and how certain severe moments have fairly casual editing. The scenes that hone in on Ken’s depression or tap into a more romantic feeling are well done -but there can be a bit of a disconnect of intent. On the one hand, it’s good to challenge the audience’s engagement in this way, but there is some degree to which the message, for the audience as much as Ken, could be obscured.
But it is a very curious little movie, defiant and distinct, funny and not always easy to take -and I’m nicely surprised by what Park does with this material. It’s certainly not what I imagine most would have expected from the Fresh Off the Boat guy. Justin H. Min and Sherry Cola demonstrate their range, and the movie overall effectively accomplishes what Tomine seems to have intended for it. It is not anything like that movie from the start. And while it plays at insinuating that fluff Asian-American movies have real value (in a way that evokes the classic climax of Sullivan’s Travels), it does stand by Ken’s assertion that a broader range of Asian-American movies need to be made. I’m glad that Shortcomings is one of them.

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