Farewell, farewell, dear love of mine.
How radiantly you did shine
When this dull world had access to
The gift of heaven that was you
Before our parting closer drew,
Propelling you into decline.

My heart already mourns within
To see your light begin to dim,
For more dynamic days than these
Are now resigned to memories
While your concessions to disease
Convince me now of who will win.

I grieve the thought of such a day
When sounds of you have waned away,
The house too quiet in the wake
Of tears that fall and hearts that ache.
Yet while you’re here to still partake,
I’ll love you long as you will stay.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG

I feel like the timing of this movie made it more impactful than it might have been some other year, for me personally anyway. The last few months have been rough for my family. My dad has been on chemo for about a year and has been in a steep decline recently, and our family cat was also diagnosed with a tumor, forcing us to put her to sleep soon. So maybe watching a movie about a cancer diagnosis wasn’t the best idea, but The Farewell proved to be a sweet sleeper film, highlighting both cultural differences and universal themes of family.

Based on the true story of first-time director Lulu Wang, who originally told it for an episode of This American Life on the radio, The Farewell features Awkwafina (now Golden Globe-nominated) in a far more serious role than something like Crazy Rich Asians. As American-raised Billi Wang, she is heartbroken to hear that her grandmother, Nai Nai, has been diagnosed with lung cancer, as well as bewildered that her family has decided to keep the news from her, sparing Nai Nai the fear and worry that goes with it. They arrange a rushed wedding for Billi’s cousin as an excuse for the family to get together and say goodbye without raising Nai Nai’s suspicions, but Billi wrestles with the morality of this white lie.

Above all else, The Farewell felt real, like I was watching authentic family dynamics in an actual family crisis, the bickering among in-laws, the happy moments both forced and sincere, all the performances genuine and not too quirky to take me out of the story. The film is billed as a comedy/drama, but I question the comedy part. Aside from an occasional funny line or bit of irony, it’s a largely serious tale respectful of its weighty themes, at times reminiscent of the Chinese masterpiece Yi Yi. (Based on its Globe nomination, it’s also technically a foreign-language film, despite having a perhaps 70%/30% mix of Chinese and English.)

Zhao Shuzhen is a warm, good-humored, grandmotherly presence, chiding Billi as a “stupid child,” which I understand translates to a Chinese term of endearment. And Awkwafina is clearly the standout role, eager to do what’s best for her Nai Nai, but wary of being dishonest in the face of a terminal illness, which is apparently a widely accepted option in China. This conflict between individual rights and family values becomes a key example of the cultural disparity between East and West, which pops up elsewhere to challenge Billi and her parents on how Chinese vs American they really are.

The pace was a bit slow for my liking, but the main change I would have liked would be a closer look at the other family members, especially Billi’s cousin Hao Hao (Chen Han) and his Japanese bride Aiko (Aoi Mizuhara), whose wedding is used as a cover for the family reunion. Aiko, in particular, who doesn’t speak Chinese, just awkwardly follows her fiancé’s lead the whole time and only gets to speak once; I would have liked some insight into how she felt about her wedding being more or less a ruse, since she and Hao Hao don’t seem very close. Is the practice of lying to a sick family member common in Japan as well, making her more willing to go along with it?

Yet by the end, the emotion of Billi’s farewell is well-deserved, as a goodbye to both her Nai Nai and, in a sense, a part of her heritage. For such a culturally specific setting, the relationships feel universal, and that’s something any foreign-language film (or rather film in general) should strive for.

Best line: (Nai Nai, to Billi) “I’ve walked the path of life, and I must tell you, you’ll encounter difficulties, but you have to keep an open mind. Don’t be the bull endlessly ramming its horns into the corner of the room. Life is not just about what you do; it’s more about how you do it.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2019 S.G. Liput
655 Followers and Counting

A life lived in service is seen as disgrace,
For service is wholly ignoble and lowly,
A shame to escape and oppose.
For so many saints, though, this wasn’t the case;
To serve was a method to mimic the Holy,
A sacrifice God only knows.

A life lived in service is never a waste;
A volunteer’s spirit’s congratulatory,
And oh, that all servants could know!
Such angels of earth are not easily replaced,
For not all bear burdens as badges of glory
And not all saints lived long ago.
_________________

MPAA rating:  PG-13 (for limited profanity)

Mr. Church has been in my Netflix queue for so long that I was considering making it one of next year’s Blindspots just to finally get myself to watch it. The film was written by Susan McMartin, who based it off her own short story “The Cook Who Came To Live With Us,” drawing from her own life. I was curious to see a rare serious role for Eddie Murphy after four years of inactivity, and lo and behold, it turned out to be one of his best films, though you wouldn’t know it based on critical reviews or its scathing box office (less than a million dollars on an $8 million budget).

Murphy plays the titular mister, a cook in 1965 assigned to single mother Marie Brooks (Natascha McElhone) by the dying wish of his employer/Marie’s former lover. Tasked with caring for Marie through her treatment for breast cancer, he expects to only stay for six months, much to the chagrin of her daughter Charlie (played by Natalie Coughlin, and later by Britt Robertson), but, as Marie outlives her diagnosis, Mr. Church becomes a mainstay of the home and their family.

There’s something about this kind of movie that just gets me, an irresistible sweetness that stays in my heart when the credits roll. Mr. Church’s presence spans decades as Charlie grows from a callow girl to a young woman with a daughter of her own, and he imparts to her things that are near and dear to my own heart: a love of cooking, classic literature, music. And like Forrest Gump, Charlie’s poetic narration fits perfectly with this kind of nostalgic, generational story.

Robertson and McElhone excel in their emotional roles, but the surprise is a much-subdued Murphy, who instills Church with evident depth at arm’s length, making Charlie and the audience want to know more about him even as he self-effacingly insists on retaining his privacy. Critics have complained that, despite the film bearing his name, he is too much of a one-note character, there merely to serve his white “family,” and while that argument might have some merit, I fear they miss the point. It may not check the “woke” boxes of what critics expect in a black character these days, but that shouldn’t detract from the sweetness of the relationship forged between Charlie and Mr. Church, one of shared interests and quiet service, which becomes mutual over time.

Professional reviewers may decry it as sappy and sentimental, but Mr. Church deserves so much better than a 24% on Rotten Tomatoes. Many compared it to a Hallmark movie, but that shouldn’t be an insult by default, since such films can be deeply affecting when done well. I was disappointed that Mr. Church was such a box-office failure, since that likely makes Hollywood less likely to make these kinds of movies. If they’re as poignant as this one, I wish they’d make more.

Best line: (Charlie) “People act strange around death. There are those who talk about everything but the person who died. Those who talk about only the person who died. Those who try to cheer you up. And those who can’t help but make you cry. And then there are those who say nothing at all, because they don’t have to.”

Rank:  List-Worthy

© 2019 S.G. Liput
651 Followers and Counting