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Better Luck Tomorrow a Complex Exploration of American Suburbia

By Jennifer Fang | Yellowworld.org
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While the move is indeed the first “mainstream” movie written, directed and starring Asian Americans, it was never intended to make it big. It was not molded by Big Business Hollywood to be a cash cow, rather it was forged from a budget of Justin Lin’s top-ten credit cards. BLT should stir up Asian American pride because of its position as a pioneering first in Asian American cinema, proving once and for all that there is an Asian American consumer market. Expecting BLT to herald the wonders of Asian American men, women, heritage, history and culture in a warm and fuzzy, pop culture consumable product would be unrealistic and would undermine Justin Lin’s vision. That being said, BLT, taken as a film, is a movie masterpiece of depth and realism: a complex study of upper middle-class suburbia and Asian American male emasculation.

The story focuses on Ben Manibag (Parry Shin), a highly intelligent student at the local public high school. Ben doesn’t question his seemingly insatiable academic drive. He pushes himself forward as if that were merely the course of his life. In fact, he is exceedingly boring – he shoots 215 free throws every day in order to beat a meaningless statistic of 95% accuracy. He must make 207 in. Every night he learns a new word for the SATs. He has a gold fish. His best friend, Virgil Hu, is the bumbling clown, while Virgil’s brooding, badass cousin, Han Hu, rounds out the trio. The group of friends has their futures laid out before them, like a straight road through an open desert. College is a certainty; they are never in need of money or fear failing grades in school. They perform small-time scams for petty amounts of cash out of sheer boredom – they literally have nothing better to do, and in suburbia, kids make their own fun. The lure of crime is overwhelming: having been cast as the model minority, do-gooders all their lives, their need to rebel is translated into an attraction towards all things illegal. Even more addictive is the challenge of finding out how much the boys can get away with without anyone ever suspecting more from them then they would from any emasculated and weak Asian American male. Soon, the boys are joined by Daric, the charismatic valedictorian who weaves a spell of criminal camaraderie over the group and quickly assumes leadership.

Stephanie VanderGosh and her inattentive, on-again-off-again upper class private school boyfriend, Steve (who is cheating on her with a blonde-headed bimbo Barbie) round out the cast. Ben has a crush on Stephanie and dislikes Steve from the get-go. Ben finds Steve’s deceptive confidence disconcerting, and believes Stephanie deserves better (though not necessarily himself).

The wonderful thing about BLT is that, while the ethnicity of the main characters adds a layer of complexity to the movie’s theme of boredom, corruption, and seduction, it could easily have been made with a non-Asian cast. Like Asian American children of the MTV generation, being Asian is an aspect of their identity which has intangible – even near nonexistent – ties to an actual cultural root. The characters are Asian American, but are not linked to any Asian culture: the boys’ (presumably Asian) parents are never shown and Stephanie’s identity is vague and confused in part because she was adopted by an all-Caucasian family.

The movie follows the desperate struggle Ben endures to break away from his suburban monotony, where his future is fixed. But, in doing so, he finds himself trapped in a second spiral of crime and chaos. A drug dealer and an addict, Ben is led into a life of sex and violence, and soon he loses control. Unable to maintain his dual identity of criminal and high school student, he wants to opt out. He just wants to return to a life of order, where he is no longer addicted to coke and everything makes sense again. But, just as he has regained control, Steve offers him a proposal he cannot refuse: the largest scam the boys have ever committed – Steve’s own house. Steve suggests that the boys engineer a break-in of his family home while his parents are away, and sell the items for cash, while Steve can collect on insurance. However, even as Steve becomes the harbinger of Ben’s return to crime, he simultaneously establishes himself as a symbol of stability and structure. Steve is from an upper-class family, and his expansive house is stuffed with riches. Steve has already gained early admission to a handful of Ivy Leagues, and Stephanie refuses to leave him despite his poor treatment of her. It is a life Ben envies. And that envy makes him hateful and disgusted with Steve’s own loathing of that happiness.

Soon, Daric concocts a scheme to punish Steve, playing the other boys’ hatred of Steve and his affluence against them. They agree to rough Steve up, but things take a turn for the worse. Ben, who wanted no part of the attack, ends up unleashing his hatred of Steve in a rare moment of intense emotion. He destroys Steve, and in so doing destroys the last vestiges of normality in him. As Steve hovers at the edge of death, Daric takes control of the situation and orders Virgil to hold Steve down while Daric pours some form of household chemical down his throat. Virgil and Daric fight Steve’s deathbed convulsions, and at least Steve dies and is hastily buried in the backyard.

From this point on, we see the final deterioration of the boys’ lives. Nothing is certain. Will they be caught? Will one of them turn the others in? What will happen next?

Virgil attempts suicide, but even that act was botched. He ends up hooked to life support, his very ability to control the taking of his life stolen from him. Han is gripped by the uncertainty of whether Virgil will survive, or if he will survive but be brain damaged. Indeed, we never find out Virgil’s fate. Daric is consumed by fear that he will be forced to face justice for murdering Steve, and again we do not know if he does. As for Ben, he manages to navigate his way back to a balance between his former life and an incorporation of his new found chaotic spirit. He, too, does not know what the future holds, but he chooses not to tell Stephanie of Steve’s “mysterious disappearance”. Instead, he keeps the information within him, incorporating it into his history and identity.

In that way, Asian Americans are portrayed as far from moralistic and perfect. It is a portrayal that is much criticized. Many feel this movie is a negative representation of Asian Americans. The very uncertainty of the movie’s ending has also left many moviegoers feeling unsatisfied, but it is this same uncertainty that is the film’s key message.

Of course, BLT is by no means a perfect film. Stephanie’s character is one-dimensional and often grating in its naivete. Han’s character is never fully developed, making him seem like a superfluous addition to the story’s plot. Nevertheless, BLT is an excellent film documenting the vices of American suburbia, but with a yellow tinge. We can only hope that BLT will pave the way for an even “better tomorrow” for Asian American cinema.