Movies

A second serving of ‘The Wedding Banquet’ leaves audiences feeling overstuffed

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In 1993, when Ang Lee unveiled “The Wedding Banquet,” a poignant romantic dramedy set in New York, gay marriage was still illegal. However, instead of resorting to platitudes like “love is love,” Lee subtly portrayed that love can be self-centered, hurtful, short-sighted, and bewildering. This understated masterpiece, one of only two films Lee had made at the time, powerfully conveyed how much pain stems from fretting about what others might think. As someone who appreciates thought-provoking cinema, I found this film deeply moving and insightful.

In a new twist to cultural conflicts, director Andrew Ahn (“Spa Night,” “Fire Island”) has revitalized the film “The Wedding Banquet” by introducing additional characters and increased tension. Working alongside Lee’s longtime collaborator James Schamus, they’ve crafted an eccentric narrative filled with intricacies rather than depth.

In this new setup, we have not just one but two couples: Chris (Bowen Yang) and Min (Han Gi-chan), along with Angela (Kelly Marie Tran) and Lee (Lily Gladstone). They reside together at Lee’s house in Seattle; the women occupy the main house while the men stay in a barn-like structure in the yard. Throughout the movie, they will engage in arguments, share tender moments, and make each other laugh. However, in an unexpected turn, each couple may end up walking down the aisle with someone other than their initial partner.

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Discussion featuring key actors from “The Wedding Banquet”: Bowen Yang, Lily Gladstone, Kelly Marie Tran, and Han Gi-chan.

As a movie enthusiast, I’d rephrase it like this: Chris and I have been close friends since our college days. We experimented with a brief romance during our freshman year, though the lines between our sexual identities are somewhat unclear. What’s certain is that we share an inseparable bond, two individuals who seem to be soulmates, both of us being emotionally cautious and reluctant to grow up, as some might say, stuck in our childlike ways.

Today, we’ve reached the age where we can legally marry our partners. However, neither of us seems keen on taking that step. The blame for this decision has now shifted from societal expectations to our own inertia and unwillingness to commit fully to adulthood.

Despite their differences in ambition, each of them is contemplating a change in lifestyle. Min, a student specializing in fabric arts, carries an engagement ring with him. Originally from a prominent Korean fashion dynasty, Min enjoys spending his wealth from his grandmother, Ja-Young (Youn Yuh-Jung), while avoiding her persistence for him to assume the creative director role within the company. “You are not merely working for the company – you are the company,” she repeatedly emphasizes.

In the series, Lee embodies an earthy, free-spirited goddess who frequently tends to her garden. Matthew Simonelli’s costumes provide an amusing contrast with Lee’s flowery knitted outfits against Tran’s rugged Metallica roadie attire. The performances are top-notch all around.

Lee, a humanitarian worker for the LGBTQ+ community, is racing against time to have children of her own. She has gone through two heartbreaking rounds of in vitro fertilization and must also deal with her partner’s doubts about having kids. Angela’s relationship with her mother, May (played brilliantly by Joan Chen), is strained. May, who is more involved with her PFLAG friends, lacks experience in maternal affection. However, Angela is the most convincingly-written character, as she grapples with the fear of becoming a mother herself; it’s like improvising without a safety net. A humorous moment arises when May comforts her daughter by suggesting that she might not be such a terrible mother – she could always do worse.

Min requires a green card, Lee requires money for another attempt at IVF. Chris and Angela need more time before their business takes off. So, Min and Lee devise an unconventional plan: they propose a swap where Min marries Angela, and Angela marries Lee, in hopes of resolving one issue while potentially causing others. Due to complications that are hard to justify, this arrangement must be maintained when Ja-Young arrives to scrutinize whether Lee’s fiancée is after his wealth. The main characters are manipulated not by emotions but by the intricate plot that propels them from one artificial scene to another, allowing it to showcase their interactions as a depiction of the modern American family, albeit a bit sketchy and unconvincing.

In contrast to 1993, Ahn and Schamus no longer assume that individuals like Min are eager to reside in America in 2025. “Your trains are so slow!” he complains. Rich, charismatic, and possessing the beauty of a pop star (his skincare routine is a humorous touch), Min only intends to remain in the U.S. due to his relationship with Chris, which puts unnecessary strain on Yang’s role that remains relatively undeveloped. Despite these constraints, this part ranks among Yang’s finest performances. Having solidified his status as larger than life on “Saturday Night Live,” he now possesses the self-assurance to portray a genuine human being.

Han acknowledges that he needs to overstate Min’s quirky innocence in order for us to understand his enthusiasm about sharing a small cabin with ambiguous Chris. Their acting, particularly their roles, seem least like reality but are most enjoyable. (“Even my own daughter marrying a man!” Chen laments, expressing his liberal frustration.) They are the only performers who’ve truly grasped that this story is a comedic twist, even though the cinematography gives an impression of realism, adding a damp sackcloth to the absurdity.

The cast effectively captivates us with their portrayal of love, even as they twist traditional notions into intricate shapes. However, the film’s depiction of extreme wealth appears fabricated and unrealistic. If Min, a character who inherits a renowned lineage, lacks ego in such a way that it seems implausible for someone of his social standing, it strains credulity. I’m not suggesting Min must be an entitled brat, but if he can purchase IVF as casually as a round of drinks, the film should acknowledge this by addressing the inevitable questions: How lopsided is this marriage-for-medical-treatment arrangement? If Min is so eager to distance himself from his grandmother’s fashion business, why would he make such an elaborate jacket for her hanbok? And at the very least, why can’t the characters afford to rent their own homes adjacent to each other?

In simpler terms, the mood suggests that Ahn wants us to believe in his ability to pull off a contemporary love story. However, he seems to shy away from revealing genuine moments such as deep discussions about errors and apologies. There’s a lack of heartfelt interactions between Min and Angela. It’s strange because long-time friends start acting as if one has become contagious. What makes it more unusual is that Ahn often skips over major conflicts, making it seem like we’re peeking into their lives but being told to mind our own business.

During the most gripping scenes, the camera shifts its attention from the action to Youn’s grandmother, who is observing the young ones through a window. Although it’s Youn, the actress who won an Oscar for “Minari” five years ago for Best Supporting Actress, who seems to bring good fortune to the film, the way the movie places her in moments that don’t seem fitting makes her feel like a burden. This is particularly true when the movie overlooks Gladstone’s Lee for an unnecessarily long time and fails to provide an opportunity for this central character to voice her thoughts.

There’s a certain charm in the rustic style and the serious demeanor of Gladstone and Youn’s characters, set amidst scenes where silence is broken by bird sounds. This heartwarming film sometimes appears self-conscious about being a comedy. When the jokes do appear, they feel forced and out of place: an unexpected and inappropriate slapstick moment, some farcical courtroom antics. The humor feels like an awkward wallflower at a party who is struggling with so many nervous thoughts that when it’s time to contribute, they blurt out something inappropriate.

It’s surprising that everyone connected here has such strong affection for the 1993 movie that they’ve either remade it or, like Schamus, rewritten it. However, it seems that much of the film’s sharp cultural and character-based humor has been lost in this process. Ahn manages to elicit a few chuckles with his portrayal of a hurried, imperfect Korean wedding ceremony where Chris parades around with a wooden duck and the unfortunate couple is bombarded with chestnuts and dates. The symbolism used in this scene is not fully grasped by those present, but it effectively conveys the message that traditions require reevaluation.

As a movie critic, I must confess that while the recent remake of “The Wedding Banquet” had its moments, I found myself yearning for the original charm delivered by Ang Lee himself. In his version, as a guest amidst the chaotic festivities, he humorously remarked, “You’re witnessing 5,000 years of sexual repression.”

Reflecting on this new adaptation, I can’t help but notice the absence of a grand banquet. Instead, it seems we are left with mere remnants, or as I like to call them, leftovers.

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2025-04-17 23:31

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