In 2023, it often feels like we can’t watch a film or a show without asking what service each character does for representation. When people of marginalized races and genders get their moment on the big screen, we have high expectations for them: We expect them to be cool, kind, and relatable while simultaneously breaking all the stereotypes associated with their identity. When those characters are obnoxious or irritating, we are bothered—a brand of dissatisfaction that I hear voiced frequently: “Why does Devi from Never Have I Ever have to be so annoying and white-girl coded?” or “Is And Just Like That’s Che Diaz doing a disservice to the queer community?”
On the other hand, isn’t the point of representation to humanize people of all kinds, break down stereotypes, and make space for individuality within communities? The new film Shortcomings—actor Randall Park’s directorial debut—rejects the compulsion toward quote-unquote good representation by portraying Asian American protagonists who are imperfect, messy, and sometimes hard to root for. It’s a rom-com that can feel all too real, creating space for nuance in the tricky gendered complexities of fetishism and emasculation within Asian communities.
Shortcomings was adapted from the 2007 graphic novel of the same name by Adrian Tomine, and it closely aligns with that text. It follows Ben (Justin H. Min), a movie-theater manager in Berkeley, California, after his girlfriend, Miko (Ally Maki), moves to New York for a career opportunity and asks for a break from their relationship. Ben, a character who toggles swiftly between charming and insecure asshole, is hardly given a choice—Miko is going—and he copes with the separation with a distinct lack of grace.
The film opens with Ben and Miko, both of whom are Japanese American, at an Asian film festival that Miko helped organize. The fictional movie they’re seeing stars Stephanie Hsu and Ronnie Chieng and closely resembles the 2018 blockbuster Crazy Rich Asians. Afterward, one of the other organizers asks Ben what he thought of it, and without explicitly dissing the film, Ben makes it clear that he isn’t a fan. In the first of many scenes of the pair arguing, Miko makes the case that Asians have waited for a long time to see themselves represented in media. Ben snaps back that the movie is a “garish, mainstream rom-com that glorifies a capitalistic fantasy of vindication through wealth and materialism.”
This observation from Ben sets up one of the movie’s central questions: Do we need mainstream cinema’s capitalistic representation to open the doors for more indie films featuring Asians or any other underrepresented group? The making of Shortcomings itself—which might not exist without the success of films like Crazy Rich Asians—might answer that question.
Ben’s snobby disdain for mainstream media extends to other areas of his life and is occasionally kept in check by his gay best friend Alice, played by the always charming Sherry Cola. It is apparent as a viewer that Ben and Miko are a horrible fit as a couple, but their relationship, and its subsequent dissolution, is rife with insecurities connected to internalized racism. Miko confronts Ben when she finds porn with conventionally attractive white women on his laptop. His pathetic explanation is that “it’s supposed to be different from reality,” but once Miko leaves for New York, Ben unsuccessfully pursues his young, blonde employee Autumn and later Sasha, a bisexual hipster graduate student. Despite his own evident romantic preferences, Ben harbors a holier-than-thou disgust toward white men dating Asian women. Yet if his romantic flailing and hypocrisy don’t score him any likability points, they do heighten how real his character feels. This is, for sure, a guy I know.
As the story progresses, we watch Ben create a victim narrative for himself. His jealous tendencies are ugly, and his breakup wallowing is sad, almost too sad for a man as attractive as Min. But before the movie reaches its conclusion, with significant help from Alice and her stunning girlfriend, Ben is coerced into some serious self-reflection. (Isn’t that how it always is?) Without hitting us over the head too bluntly with the message, Park’s film, save a few absurd scenes, manages to tackle the illusion of choice when it comes to opting into social and cultural narratives around romance and dating. Ben will never transcend racial paradigms—and in the end, he is just a man-child experiencing heartbreak.
Shortcomings is in theaters on August 4.