Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Shortcomings’ on Netflix, a Smart and Funny Character Study Directed by Randall Park

Shortcomings (now on Netflix) opens with a movie within the movie, setting up some commentary – and maybe some self-commentary – about Asian American representation in film, so consider the baseline established so writer Adrian Tomine and director Randall Park can push past that idea. And from there, this hybrid dramatico-rom-com-ish film hones in on its prickly protagonist, who has many of the things in the title, although we should be honest here and admit that we all have some of the things in the title. It’s a matter of being aware of them and managing them and working past them and landing somewhere better, which is maybe easier said than done, as this movie shows us.

SHORTCOMINGS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Ben (Justin H. Min) isn’t perfect. None of us are. But he may not be quite in tune with his, as a title card reads, “FLAWS.” He’s kinda-sorta a failed filmmaker who now finds himself bored, unstimulated and seemingly unable to be positive about, well, anything. He can’t even fake it for a minute and say disingenuous positive things about a glossy big-studio movie that’s being celebrated for its Asian American representation, and you maybe can’t blame him – why be disingenuous about the film when he sees it as being fundamentally disingenuous itself? You have to appreciate his honesty; then again, there’s a time and place to voice your criticisms, and he also seems unable to see the silver lining in any situation. Are you getting all twisted around by this guy? This Ben guy? Who seems to be a curlicued composite of complexities? 

Now, imagine that you’ve been dating him for six years. That’s the situation Miko (Ally Maki) finds herself in. She and Ben fight a lot these days. She’s unhappy, dissatisfied on a number of levels, and it stems from Ben’s deep rut: He works a crummy job managing a wheezing arthouse movie theater in Berkeley, and would rather fire up his film-snob DVD collection than accept Miko’s come-hither to the bedroom. Furthering her insecurities is Ben’s apparent attraction to blond White women – evident by his male gazing and, cough, internet search history – although he has yet to really act on it. His best pal is Alice (Sherry Cola), a serially horny grad student; at lunch together, she flirts with the waitress and Ben rudely and impatiently cuts through their sparky banter with a loud request for more ketchup. Chill, bro. Nobody needs ketchup that badly. Trust me. It’s a trash condiment. The worst of the worst. Even if you actually eat it, and actually like it – I know, just, ew – you have to admit that. 

Where was I? Right: Miko clearly has had enough of Johnny Negativity in the bed next to her, and she sees an out: A three-month internship at an Asian American film festival in New York. She leaves it nice and vague – they’ll be “taking a break” while she’s gone, which says a lot by not saying much at all, so interpret away. Are they done? As in done-done? No. Yes! Maybe? Either way, Ben takes the opportunity to pursue his new ticket-booth employee Autumn (Tavi Gevinson), who just so happens to be a blond White woman, and a performance artist who makes Yoko Ono look like Celine Dion and takes photos of her urine-filled toilet bowl every morning for an in-progress art installation. Yes, egads, for sure, but she’s sweet, and sincere, and what’s Ben doing creatively, besides not a damn thing? And then there’s Sasha (Debby Ryan), who he meets at a party Alice drags him to, a party where the lamp moves more than he does. Sasha’s White, too. And after a bit, they seem to be arguing more than a cute couple should be at this early puppy-love infatuation stage, which might be a direct correlation with a hard truth about Ben here: He’s pretty much just, you know, a dick. 

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Shortcomings is populated with neo-intellectual people who are modern derivations of Woody Allen characters. It’s also of a mind with a movie Park starred in, Always Be My Maybe, an extraordinary rom-com – notably more pure of com than Shortcomings is – that cast Ali Wong as a protagonist who’s also not always so eager to please the people around her, or the audience, for that matter.

Performance Worth Watching: Min gives a thoughtfully knotty performance in Shortcomings, but it’s not lovable by design. More on that in a minute. But key to the movie’s success is Cola; her scene-stealing comic-relief role is the ebullient foil to Min’s dour complexity.  

Memorable Dialogue: Oh, and Cola gets all the best lines: “Just because I’m a hypocrite doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” she says (and she has a point). 

Sex and Skin: Bare male buttocks, in a comedic context.

Our Take: Character inconsistency can be problematic in other films, but in Shortcomings, it’s absolutely the point: Ben does not know who he is. He’s flailing, and when he’s not flailing, he’s wallowing. I know I called him a dick, and I stand by that, but that doesn’t mean he’s fundamentally a bad person. There’s a moment late in the film when our intellectual fascination with him as a thorny protagonist evolves into empathy as he realizes that change is inevitable, and he can’t just sit still anymore. Min’s performance is keenly layered; watch him in the moments when Ben is compelled to act against his true feelings to conform to social decorum, and you’ll see the character’s internal conflict manifest in his body language and facial expressions. Again, you have to admire Ben for being genuine, but when your genuine self is broken and emotionally poisonous, it’s a sign that you need to work on yourself.

Such is the universal arc of a film that practices what it preaches when it takes a dig at cultural representation in film as a superficial gesture, and then works hard to go deeper. Tomine’s characters frequently discuss the social politics of race and sexuality – a great, funny line out of Cola’s mouth: “Everything’s less creepy without the hetero power dynamics,” Alice says in justification of her questionable actions – although the movie isn’t always inherently about those topics. They’re present, as they should be, and the script’s commentary on such topical fodder dwells in the compelling murk between sincerity and satire. There’s no simple solution to such societal ills, so hey, might as well poke some, if not lighthearted, then mediumhearted fun.

Tonally, Shortcomings avoids easy categorization. It’s frequently funny; it’s quietly acidic; it’s insightful without being overly dramatic. Park isn’t afraid to be subtly provocative, either – the film’s pastel-colored title cards frequently slam down after an act concludes on a moment of awkwardness that defies easy resolution. And that makes thematic sense considering the movie is essentially about the pains of personal growth and emotional development, something we all can relate to. More specifically, it’s about an Asian American man who’s in the throes of depression and struggles to navigate the intellectual-emotional divide. By the end of the film, has he changed? Sure, but only a little. Drastic personal evolution only happens in big, dumb glossy movies about simple people. You know, the kind of movies that Ben hates so much.

Our Call: Shortcomings is a gem of a character study, and a pretty wily comedy to boot. STREAM IT. 

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.