It’s always tricky translating literature to screen. In Shortcomings’ case, it struggles to make its Berkeley and New York settings appear more lived-in than just a few postcard-like frames. You could also tell that the conversations it stirs up about things like representation and mixed-race relationships began in the early aughts, when the novel it was adapted from was first released. But those lapses are small and forgivable in the face of a lovely ensemble cast and a whipsmart script.
It also takes a special kind of skill to make a character as fiercely unlikeable as Ben (Min) watchable, to hold up a mirror to the audience and make them stay. Thankfully, it’s a skill that Tomine and first-time director Randall Park display with such grace. Ben, Alice (Sherry Cola), and Miko (Ally Maki) are flawed and often pathetic, but they’re also honest reflections of who we become when the demands of self-preservation and romantic openness clash. It’s a little unnerving to hear them verbalize what we’ve always feared about ourselves, but it’s also exhilarating, not to mention comforting, knowing that we’re not alone in feeling this way. Shortcomings works because it doesn’t confine itself to genre: it’s a character study first, and a romantic comedy second.
"Shortcomings isn’t revolutionary, but it’s authentic, resonant, and laugh-out-loud funny. It opens with the notion that big-budget cheesy films from Asian creatives pave the way for riskier, less bankable projects, and then proves the importance of both."
— Proma Khosla
"A wickedly funny, absorbing character study."
— Robert Daniels
When his girlfriend leaves for New York City on a 3-month-long internship, a strongly opinionated Berkeley arthouse movie theater manager begins exploring life as a bachelor.
Based on the graphic novel by Adrian Tomine, Shortcomings follows Ben (Justin H. Min), a college dropout turned filmmaker with more than a few things to say about love, art, politics, and identity.
The three leads give wonderful lived-in performances, but it’s hard to turn your eyes away from Tavi Gevinson as Autumn and Jacob Batalon as Gene whenever they’re on screen. Despite their limited screen time, they make the characters truly their own, with personalities and mannerisms that somehow feel both unique and universal. It’s clear they’re mostly there for comic relief, but they fulfill that role with such gumption I just keep wanting to see them.
Also known by me as Crazy Broke Asians, a film that has me finally feeling seen.
Sundance
1 nomination
