Film Review: The Half of It

Copyright © 2020 Netflix US, LLC.

Égalité: Pride Month 2020 is our series commemorating or criticizing pop culture that relates directly to the LGBTQIA+ movement. Done in a non-chronological order, it will span films, music, and even historical events to show a concrete picture of the evolution of the movement from Stonewall onward.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

To start off the week, we're commemorating the more recent attempts to pin down the emotional turmoil a child in the LGBTQIA+ spectrum would have. The Half of It is a 2020 LGBT romance film written and directed by Alice Wu--her second feature film.

Previously, she had made waves with her 2004 film Saving Face, an exploration of the realities of being lesbian and Asian-American that tackles it with the qualities of a great romantic comedy: smart enough to ground the characters' problems and take it seriously, but light enough tonally to be easily rewatchable and relatable. [Side note: it was technically the first Hollywood film with a primarily-Asian-American cast since The Joy Luck Club in 1993, and will be the last of its kind until Crazy Rich Asians in 2018].

The Half of It is a lot more different from Saving Face: where her first feature film was an exploration of an adult lesbian relationship in the middle of New York City's rich Chinese families, The Half of It is set in a small town where teenage immigrant Ellie Chu (played by Leah Lewis) falls in love with aloof artist and popular girl Aster Flores (played by Alexxis Lemire). Ellie is a great writer, but she doesn't know how to say what she wants to say from the inner parts of her soul. She even refuses to flirt with her crush Aster Flores, until Aster herself challenges the sentiment she quoted from Wings of Desire to her letter.

Aster's first reply.
Copyright © 2020 Netflix US, LLC.

[Side note: My close friend said that this film is a retelling of Cyrano de Bergerac, which I did not know about until now, and also explains why the plot of 2016 Filipino romcom Vince & Kath & James is so similar.]

 The Ellie Chu-Aster Flores flirting feels intoxicatingly romantic to watch, two lonely souls finally finding their equals in a world that cares nothing for them. The rush of their romance is balanced out by the goofy friendship that forms between Ellie and doofus football player Paul Munsky (played by Daniel Diemer), the one who has a crush on Aster, who can't write a letter to save his life, and who forms a genuine bond with Ellie, one that makes her more confident and honest and him more open-minded and articulate about what he wants. Everything about this film feels like an answer to the over-stylized and underwritten CW dramas and indie projects like Riverdale or Me and Earl and the Dying Girl: there's a certain personal connection to this work, a willingness to stop and meditate on the themes and allow the quiet moments to speak for themselves.

These relationships alone would probably make this a fun romantic comedy to watch in any other situation.

Another awkward date.
Copyright © 2020 Netflix US, LLC.

But this is not a typical fun romantic comedy: the character of Ellie Chu herself is different from the typical protagonist because her struggles feel much more rooted in the context of her race and social status. She can't leave for college because she has a Chinese-speaking father who needs her help in doing his job; she can't make friends because, in becoming the primary breadwinner, all interactions with her classmates feel transactional; and she's trapped in this culture that treats her like a second-class citizen in spite of her knowing the ins and outs of its very being. She can't even ask the person she's in love with on a date because, for the most part, her race and status in the community renders her invisible.

Being gay in this world becomes the least of her problems, especially considering the fact that Aster Flores is trapped in a similar predicament: a second-class citizen in her own country, a popular girl forced into conformity, a person with no true friends and no true freedom. The Cyrano ruse is necessary for them to connect because they fear that trying to make that connection authentically will reveal too much ammo for them to get hurt, or in Aster's case, reveal that there was no authentic self at all.

The reason why scenes like them vandalizing a wall with graffiti art are so effective is that, for these two people, their anonymity gives them the freedom to be happy, to make brave and daring strokes that they would otherwise not be allowed to make. They can explore their feelings with candor, unafraid that the person on the other end is judging them for what they feel and think. It's an idea that only marginalized groups really consider, and making the Ellie-Aster relationship center upon how they free each other from the bullshit and pretension makes each victory and hurdle hit harder than in a typical romance. Neither of them can save each other from this small town, and they know that. But they give each other hope that if they keep exploring themselves and their inner lives separate from others, they'll find the courage to make the bold stroke and live a little better.

Five strokes.
Copyright © 2020 Netflix US, LLC.

Alice Wu's second feature came in almost two decades after her first, but it seems like she found a deeper insight into what it means for her to be a woman, Asian, and gay in a culture where they fetishize or downright refuse to portray their existence. She seems to understand that you cannot make a single film that represents the experiences of all gay Asian-American women out there and that the best way to make an audience feel general empathy is to make a specific story worth empathizing with. It took nearly two decades, but she found the right story.