‘Dìdi (弟弟)’ Review: Sean Wang’s Brilliant Coming-Of-Age Tale
Sean Wang’s feature directorial debut, Dìdi (弟弟), is a poignant, often painful coming-of-age tale that anyone can relate to, with a towering lead turn from Izaac Wang.
Dìdi (弟弟), the feature directorial debut of Oscar-nominated director Sean Wang, is a profound meditation on growing up that feels all too real for anyone who ever experienced life through the conflicted eyes of a teenager. An often funny and relatable portrait, Wang’s vision of a coming-of-age tale never patronizes (like in Richard Linklater’s unwatchable Boyhood), nor does it gives important life lessons for anyone to abide by. Instead, it lets its central character, Chris Wang (Izaac Wang), figure it out for himself, and hopefully become a better individual by the time the movie is over.
The result is a total punch to the gut that takes a while to blossom, but its impact begins to creep up on us as Chris begins to drift away from his friendship with Fahad (Raul Dial), whom he considers his best friend. Social media is beginning to take shape during the time Chris enters High School, and he begins to develop intimate feelings for Madi (Mahaela Park), a girl he is madly in love to. Like any teenager, Chris peruses her MySpace (and, eventually, Facebook) profile to see what she likes, in an attempt to get her to like him, such as changing the ringtone of his cellphone to her favorite song or saying Adam Shankman’s A Walk to Remember is “hellllla good” without knowing what it’s about.
But Chris unfortunately alienates himself in a scene where he must have the courage to do something he’s not prepared to do, leaving a rift between himself and Madi, and further separating himself from Fahad after the latter lies about having enough room for him in his minivan. He eventually gets back at him, in one of the most painful scenes my two eyes viewed in a cinema this year, one that’s all-too-real for anyone who felt backstabbed by friends in high school, as they drift away from childhood and attempt to ‘fit in’ with the society they live in.
However, Chris has never fit in. The son of Asian immigrants, he’s constantly belittled by his sister, Vivian (Shirley Chen), who pities him until she realizes he’s been alone for some time and can’t seem to make new friends. Each decision he attempts as a way to ‘fit in’ only further distances him away from the people he cares about the most, including his mother (played by Joan Chen of Twin Peaks), and he immediately becomes a shell of the recognizable (and lovable) tween he was at the beginning of the film.
This shift between the two personalities doesn’t happen all of a sudden, which makes it scarier for any parent who don’t recognize who they bred into the world anymore. There isn’t a single scene that isn’t rooted in some form of realism, anyone can see themselves inside Chris, or even through his parental figures, either her mother or grandmother (played by Chang Li Hua, of Wang’s Oscar-nominated short Nai Nai & Wài Pó), who worries about the direction Chris is taking. All of this is treated with striking realism through cinematographer Sam A. Davis’ eye, either by the way he frames Chris’ emotional journey by constantly focusing on his eyes (and, by extension, the screen he spends the most time on) and flip it on its head when he begins to film skateboard videos à la Spike Jonze (who also appears in the movie), using fisheye and the grain of his digital camera to distort his perspective, looking at life through a different pair of eyes than he usually did.
But this wouldn’t be possible without such a towering lead turn from Izaac Wang, who represents not only the angst of being a teenager in such a thoughtful, almost personal, way, but acts as the mirror for anyone who ever felt alone as they were growing up, ostracized by their peers, or bullied by people that should instead care about him. This is not just an ‘Asian American’ story, though it will, of course, resonate more with anyone who grew up in the same background as Chris.
His story is universal. It’s not just a portrait of an Asian-American kid having difficulty growing up, it’s an observation of how us humans will always have different ways of expressing ourselves, and showcasing our innate feelings towards other people. In that regard, Wang more than succeeds in giving us a timely, ever-pertinent coming-of-age tale that never wants to tell the audience what to think about its protagonist and the situation he’s in. He lets their lived-experiences (joy, pain, sorrow, laughter, community) speak for themselves. One such scene sees Chris’ mother argue painfully with her grandmother, opening herself up in ways he never thought he would see her mother in such a state.
But she’s had enough, and lets it all out in front of her son. It’s one of the most striking moments of raw vulnerability I’ve seen from Chen, whose career spans one iconic performance after the next. But this could be the best thing she’s ever done, not only in how she deeply humanizes the character from the minute it’s introduced on screen but in how she transcends such a simple moment in her emotional journey as a cry for help. It’s a scene that will stay with me for a long time, and made me requisition the entirety of Dìdi (弟弟) not as a simple coming-of-age tale that comes and goes, but as a movie that will remind audiences of something they should always hold dear.
It’s going to be OK. No matter what happens in your life, and the curveballs it throws at you, it will eventually be OK. We all need this reminder at some point in our lives, some sooner than later, but it will get better. You have to believe it. I’ve gone through hell and back in my twenty-five years of existence on this Earth. I’ve still got lots to learn (and will always do), but it eventually got better, even if I thought it wasn’t going to. It will. There will be ups and downs, but it will work itself out. You have to believe it, and life will ultimately reward you of this privilege. If there’s anything to get out of Dìdi (弟弟), it’s this. Believe in it.