Randall Park’s ‘Shortcomings’ Adaptation Proves Change Is Hard

In comedian and actor Randall Park’s directorial debut Shortcomings — adapted from Sacramento-born cartoonist Adrian Tomine’s 2007 graphic novella of the same name — an eclectic group of Asian American twenty-somethings face and fumble through the inadequacies of their lives, relationships and perspectives. The film’s main protagonist is Ben (Justin Min), a snarky movie theater manager who finds himself at a restless impasse when his longtime girlfriend Miko suddenly leaves their Berkeley home for an internship in New York.

Reeling from her departure, Ben continues spending time with his only friend, Alice (Sherry Cola), a queer PhD student, while pursuing new relationships with Autumn (Tavi Gevinson) and Sasha (Debby Ryan). All the while, he wanders past familiar East Bay settings like the cerulean blue exterior of Pegasus Books, the rainbow rounded top of Amoeba Records on Telegraph Avenue and the red brick of the Oakland Cannery.

From the start, the film makes it clear that Ben has a fixation on white women — and his ideas about this are contradictory and hypocritical. On Asian women who date white men, he reveals, his voice tinged with disgust: “I just think there’s something kinda creepy about an older white guy who’s horny for skinny Asian girls. I mean, what’s that all about?” But when he is questioned about Asian men who date white women, he declares, without a semblance of self-awareness: “Good for him. Good for both of them. You don’t second-guess that relationship. You’re like, ‘Wow, he must be a really cool guy and she is … really evolved.’”

Hearing this bit of dialogue, my eyes rolled back into their sockets and I was launched back into my third year of college. On a quiet and insignificant afternoon, a close friend told me that Asian women who date white men are subconsciously allowing themselves to be “colonized.” Ben is all-too real, and his on-screen presence exists as a reminder that this misogynistic perspective is more pervasive than imagined.

When it comes to the similarities between the comic and adaptation, it seems that Tomine — who also wrote the screenplay — made a concerted effort to add more nuance to the characters than he achieved in his original, 108-page book. In an interview with film critic Thomas Stoneham Judge at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Tomine described the freedom he allowed himself when approaching the writing for the adaptation. “I think for me it was really important to use the book as inspiration, as a launching pad, but not feel constricted by it,” he said.

As a result, this version of Ben feels more human and complex: he is just as kind and sincere as he is condescending and reductive. Paired with Min’s wide emotional acting range, this draft of Shortcomings makes room for the instability of Ben’s self-loathing — and the ugly ways in which it manifests — while also capturing his potential to change. Tomine addresses the shortcomings of his comic to create a more complete and empathetic portrait of the ways internalized racism impacts a person’s sense of self and their relationships. There is hope, however small, for redemption. In the original novella, there was nearly none.

Other highlights include Cola as Ben’s friend Alice, whose naturalistic performance and presence anchor the film. While some may try to relegate her to the “funny friend” supporting role, she imbues Alice with a level of restraint and avoidance that creates a real sense of history. As a closeted Chinese-Korean American woman, she upholds a facade with her family, introducing Ben as her boyfriend and pursuing an unfulfilling journey in academia. By spinning a false image for her relatives to uphold and believe in, she guarantees they may never truly know her — and she accepts this. Her story contains so much, and I only wish I could have had more of it.

Ultimately, Shortcomings is an easy watch, which is both its strength and its pitfall. While the storyline follows a pretty clear path, some scenes feel forced. Moments aren’t allowed to breathe on their own — it’s as if the film is trying to cushion any sense of discomfort a viewer might, and probably should, be feeling. Romantic background music plays when it shouldn’t, an unnecessary title card signals a new section. The film is strongest without these distractions: when the viewer is allowed to fully slip into the dialogue, mood and environment.

At its core, the film is about looking inward to enact change. For much of the plot, Ben’s worth rests on a deluded belief that he is better than certain people while simultaneously projecting his self-loathing onto others. “I’m sure you would’ve hated me anyways,” he tells Meredith, Alice’s new girlfriend.

Shortcomings asks how we move forward despite our failings and the myriad of ways we’ve ruined relationships — with others and with ourselves. When our sense of self is completely shattered, how do we learn to forgive ourselves and change? While it’s unclear if Ben is truly capable of redemption, we as an audience are left with a sense of hope that this breaking point may finally push him to forge a new way forward.

‘Shortcomings’ opens in theaters nationwide on Friday, Aug. 4.