I Will Make You Mine: Lynn Chen Makes It a Trilogy

How many films can you make playing a meta-slacker version of yourself before it gets sad? Evidently, the answer two. After appearing in two pleasant indie comedies playing a likably schlubby version of himself, Goh Nakamura and his co-stars get more serious this time around. The first two largely well-received films (Surrogate Valentine and Daylight Savings) were directed and co-written by Dave Boyle, but co-star Lynn Chen assumed those duties as the driving force helming I Will Make You Mine, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

After the birth of his daughter Sachiko, Nakamura gave up on his performing career, accepting a stable but dreary customer service job instead. Yet, there is still tension between him and Sachiko’s mother, Erika. He will be joining her in Los Angeles to offer his dubious support while she arranges her father’s funeral. However, that will also offer him an opportunity to re-connect with Rachel, his one-time prom date, who has carried a torch for him ever since (even though she should be way out of his league).

Fortunately for the cash-strapped Nakamura, his old musical colleague Yea-ming invites him to crash at her pad. She also hopes to avail herself of his natural songwriting talents. Aside from his daughter, life has been disappointing for Nakamura, but all the women in Chen’s film still seem to be pre-occupied with him, which is kind of Woody Allen-ish (it’s filmed in black-and-white too).

Still, there is something refreshingly realistic about characters coming to terms with the repercussions of their decisions, as well as setbacks that were largely beyond their control. Nakamura remains a likable screen presence playing a meta-version of himself. Ayako Fujitani (who was so incredible in Boyle’s Man from Reno) portrays Erika with brutal honesty, yet surprises us in the third act with grace notes of understanding and compassion. Bay-area singer-songwriter Yea-Ming Chen is quite a charismatic performer on-screen, both musically and dramatically, but Joy Osmanski probably gets the biggest laughs in her brief appearance as Rachel’s hipster video-director friend, Amy.

Go Back to China (But Not Now)

Actually, this wouldn’t be such a great week for Sasha Li’s titular travel plans. However, her father’s toy factory would probably be reopened in accordance with Xi “Winnie the Flu” Jinping’s orders—public safety be damned, for the sake of his economic goals. It is during a much less contagious time, not so long ago in Shenzhen that Li reluctantly journeys to the Chinese home she hardly knows in Emily Ting’s Go Back to China, which opens tomorrow in New York.

The entitled Li has been blowing through her trust fund while waiting to magically land her perfect job in the fashion industry, despite her lack of work experience, until her wealthy father Teddy abruptly cuts her off. She has lived in America since her parents’ divorce, but now he wants her to come work in his tacky toy family and become part of his Chinese family. That involves getting to know her half-sisters: Carol who came before her and young Dior, who was the product of his third failed marriage (along with her brother, Christian).

Actually, Li rather likes getting to know her step-siblings better. She also gets used to doing the work thing. She even makes the best of provincial Shenzhen. It is her father’s arrogance and refusal to accept parental responsibility that keep fueling her resentment. However, she is not alone on that score.

Surprisingly, Ting presents a rather likable story of culture clash and family dysfunction that never peddles cheap “China is awesome” propaganda. She clearly critiques China’s vast economic disparities and the ostentatious consumption of its oligarchic class. In fact, it even shows signs the mighty Chinese economy is slowing down, pre-Coronavirus era.