DIDI, meaning younger brother in Mandarin, starts as the typical coming-of-age story, but quickly builds into something bigger. This semi-autobiographical film by Sean Wang takes us to Fremont, CA in the summer of 2008, when its eponymous 13-year-old character, Chris “Wang Wang'” Wang (Izaac Wang) is spending a quietly tumultuous August failing at life but learning more than enough to make up for it. Maybe.
His is a tense family life. His absent father is back in Taiwan making money, his college-bound sister, Vivian (Shirley Chen) taunts him mercilessly, his grandmother (Sean Wang’s real-life grandmother Zhang Li Hua) fawns over him, pushes Vivian aside, and scolds his mother (Joan Chen) non-stop for her perceived failings as a wife, mother, and daughter-in-law. Yet, it is clear that his mother is what keeps the family together, even if Chris and Vivian can’t see past her Old Country ways enough to appreciate it.
As for Chris, he’s crushing on Maddie (Mahaela Park), whom he follows on My Space (it’s 2008), and trading bro-style insults with best friends Fahad (Raul Dial) and Soup (Aaron Chang). Introspective as well as profane, he is not quite as cool as his friends, but his shyness is cute enough, despite the acne, to get Maddie to notice him. While his dreams of being a filmmaker push him far enough out of his comfort zone to land in the orbit of some local older skaters (Chiron Cillia Denk, Montay Boseman, Sunil Mukherjee Maurillo) looking for someone to film them and land their dream of getting a sponsor.
Wang is not subtle in depicting the casual profanity and bullying in which the three friends indulge. Nor in the vicious ragging the siblings give each other. What Chris does to Vivien’s body lotion, and her revenge, is pointedly vile. It’s also necessary for the emotional progression, as is the offhanded cruelty he shows his mother when she tries to nurture him, or, worse, try to be a part of her life. The dismissive insult to the painting she has done is heartbreaking. And it, too, is necessary for where Wang want to take us.
The film plays out nostalgically on AOL IM screens and My Space message boards as much as it does on the oppressively sunny streets of Fremont. Chris, at a loss when choosing the correct emoji or missing all the social the cues about what is acceptable banter, take on the aspects of low comedy and high tragedy as Chris struggles with the raw hormonal electricity surging through his body and his psyche, neither one of which he is prepared to deal with it. Chung, a young actor of remarkable nuance, brings complexity to the adolescent acting out, tying it firmly to the physiological confusion he is going through as well as the quiet hostility of his home life. The way he masks the awkwardness and immaturity with a fragile bravado is funny and heart-breaking as he continually gets himself in over his head. He can find seemingly infinite shades of meaning in a slight nod of his chin, and he uses his face with an astonishing assurance to show us how Chris is processing any given moment and thereby demonstrate the profound impact that a moment is having in shaping the person he will become. The camera pauses with him, allowing the dynamic of his inner life to be externalized with all the patience of a loving mother, and the honest commentary of an older sister. That same camera also captures the raucous energy of being on the cusp of high school and young adulthood before the free reverie of boyhood has completely dissipated.
Wang also explores with gentle humor the inevitable clashes of an immigrant parent raising American children. Chris looks askance as Mom eats a fast-food hamburger with a knife and fork, and he and Vivian both whine when she uses an umbrella to shade her from the sun. In this, Chen becomes the beating heart of the film as a woman with dreams of her own caught between generations, finding no peace and certainly no appreciation as she navigates a life for which she cannot have prepared herself. The love language of one culture failing to translate into another as it lands with rolled eyes and exasperated sighs. Yet Chen is never weak, rather she has her character absorb the slights and worse with disappointment and with laughter until, like her son, there is a breaking point that transcends culture and rallies for individuality.
DIDI is never condescending in either its depiction of adolescence or of a family in crisis. This is not right and wrong, heroes or villains, but an honest, emotionally vital chronicle of growth and renewal. In this is it universal and intensely moving.
Your Thoughts?